They crowded in after him, and he closed the door; then led the way to where, at one side of the room, the baron lay tied hand and foot. At the other side was the woman, tied in the same way.
“The Dutchman was ragin’ round so at one time that I had to anchor him to the wall, as you can see,” he said. “Trust me, gents, to keep him; I’ll do it if I have to kill him!”
A rope passed round the baron’s rotund body held him to the wall.
“Ach!” he spat at them as the light was flashed in his face. “Go avay!”
“How are ye feelin’, Dutchy?” asked the man of the blond hair, laughing down upon him.
“Uff I effer gidt dese t’ings off uff my handts, I vill keel you!” the baron howled at him.
“You see how gentle and tame he is, gents!” said Uncle Sam. “I don’t know but I’ll have to put a gag in his mouth, to keep him from biting himself.”
“Vhen I gidt oudt uff dhis,” the baron snarled, “I vill shoodt you yoost so full uff holes dot you vondt holdt vhisky any longker.”
“Wow! He thinks, Gabie, that I’m a steady patron of your bar. You might disabuse his mind of so unflattering an idea.”