The banker was sent for, and identified the prisoner as his friend Herr Richter. As a matter of course the wealthy gentleman escaped the grasp of the Philistines.
On leaving the beetle-browed gateway of the police barracks the Herr breathed freely again, rejoicing that matters had turned out no worse in that empire of suspicion and caprice. He moved along through the principal thoroughfare of the Austrian capital, pondering over his recent unpleasant adventure. At length he called a cab to take him to his club, where he might drown the indignity of the morning in a bumper of Tokay or Johannisberg, and invite oblivion by devouring a good dinner. Hardly, however, had he placed his foot on the step than he was forced deep down into the vehicle by a mysterious personage at his back, who, whispering to the driver, "To the police station!" enters the cab also. Speechless and aghast as though a spectre were the intruder, the unfortunate Herr Richter looked wildly at his compulsory companion.
"Sir," said the spectre—
"I know all you are going to say," feebly remarked the desperate Richter, cursing his fate.
"Of course you know," sneered the spectre at his side, who, however, is no spectre, but a jolly-booking individual in the prime of manhood. "Of course you know." And with this he dives his hand into his pocket, and drags forth the fatal warrant.
"All right!" groans out the inevitable captive, with whom despair was fast degenerating into recklessness. "All right, you need not take the trouble to read every trait. I have read the account myself. It is very correct, wonderfully correct, terribly correct."
"For a gentleman of your profession," observed the portly detective, "you are really very civil. Half a dozen such as you would marvellously improve the manners of our modern chevaliers d'industrie. I say, old boy," continued the pleasant thief-catcher, poking the unresisting Herr in the ribs, "you ought to think it over, and exert yourself to instill a little politeness into your tribe. It's a large section of the community, you know. If yon get out again, think over my advice."
The only reply of Herr Richter was a faint, helpless smile.
Arrived at the station, a general shout of laughter greeted the captor and the captured.
The latter seated himself in a chair, and, composing his thoughts for a desperate harangue, thus addressed the commissioners present: