I then told her we had a search warrant, but she had better come down to the Federal Agent. She refused, saying she had work to do and must get it out. I told her we had a car outside and would bring her back to her print shop, but she still refused. I then told her I would walk down with her to the print shop and then we could talk over the ’phone and get more instructions. When we arrived at the print shop, which is about eight feet square, I told Operative No. 9 to go into the house and call up Mr. W——, Federal Agent, and ask for instructions. Being warned by the neighbors that subject carried a gun, I went into the printing shop and asked her if she did carry a gun. She immediately became enraged and rushed for her leather grip and pulled out a .38-Colt, fully loaded. I made a grab at her, and after a tussle obtained possession of the weapon. While putting this gun in my pocket, she obtained a hammer and was endeavoring to hit me over the head, and also at the same time calling for assistance. I now called Operative No. 9 from the house, and between us, we obtained the hammer. But in some manner she pulled from her clothes a .32-automatic revolver and then endeavored to shoot us if possible. Operative No. 9 and myself overpowered her and took this gun from her. We proceeded to take subject to the car, which was about half a block away. She continually screamed, “Help! Help! Won’t someone help a good Protestant?” We finally got her in the car, and then I sent Operative No. 9 back after my hat, her bag, and the search warrant, which we had dropped. I stood outside the car, holding subject by one arm, when she drew a knife from her bosom and slashed at my hand. I got in the car and we tussled again, and I finally got the knife away from her. I had just thrown the knife over into the front seat of the automobile when she drew a small dirk from her bosom. Between Operative No. 9, who had come back, and myself, we got this dirk away from her, slightly cutting her hand. We then thought it would be best to have a witness as to what was going on, and seeing a man standing looking at us, we called him. Upon noticing some women standing at the corner watching us, I thought it would be better to have them come and search her, and upon calling them they came over. I told them what I wanted them to do and they asked if it would be safe, and told them yes—by this time. I explained who we were and what we were doing, and asked them to search subject and they agreed to do so. During their search they found a pocket containing ten bullets, sewed on to her petticoat, an 8-inch Bowie knife, and also another revolver, a Colt .41, fully loaded.