Part 11 (1/2)

But the face grew ugly again as Knoll opened his eyes and looked up. He shook off the clouds of slumber as he felt Muller's hand on his shoulder and raised himself to a sitting position, grumbling: ”Can't I have any rest? Are they going to question me again? I'm getting tired of this.

I've said everything I know anyhow.”

”Perhaps not everything. Perhaps you will answer a few of my questions when I tell you that I believe the story you told us yesterday, and that I want to be your friend and help you.”

Knoll's little eyes glanced up without embarra.s.sment at the man who spoke to him. They were sharp eyes and had a certain spark of intelligence in them. Muller had noticed that yesterday, and he saw it again now. But he saw also the gleam of distrust in these eyes, a distrust which found expression in Knoll's next words. ”You think you can catch me with your good words, but you're makin' a mistake. I've got nothin' new to say. And you needn't think that you can blind me, I know you're one of the police, and I'm not going to say anything at all.”

”Just as you like. I was trying to help you, I believe I really could help you. I have just come from Hietzing--but of course if you don't want to talk to me--” Muller shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the door.

But before he reached it Knoll stood at his side. ”You really mean to help me?” he gasped.

”I do,” said the detective calmly.

”Then swear, on your mother's soul--or is your mother still alive?”

”No, she has been dead some time.”

”Well, then, will you swear it?”

”Would you believe an oath like that?”

”Why shouldn't I?”

”With the life you've been leading?”

”My life's no worse than a lot of others. Stealing those things on Monday was the worst thing I've done yet. Will you swear?”

”Is it something so very important you have to tell me?”

”No, I ain't got nothin' at all new to tell you. But I'd just like to know--in this black hole I've got into--I'd just like to know that there's one human being who means well with me--I'd like to know that there's one man in the world who don't think I'm quite good-for-nothin'.”

The tramp covered his face with his hands and gave a heart-rending sob.

Deep pity moved the detective's breast. He led Knoll back to his cot, and put both hands on his shoulders, saying gravely: ”I believe that this theft was the worst thing you have done. By my mother's salvation, Knoll, I believe your words and I will try to help you.”

Knoll raised his head, looking up at Muller with a glance of unspeakable grat.i.tude. With trembling lips he kissed the hand which a moment before had pressed kindly on his shoulder, clinging fast to it as if he could not bear to let it go. Muller was almost embarra.s.sed. ”Oh, come now, Knoll, don't be foolish. Pull yourself together and answer my questions carefully, for I am asking you these questions more for your own sake than for anything else.”

The tramp nodded and wiped the tears from his face. He looked almost happy again, and there was a softness in his eyes that showed there was something in the man which might be saved and which was worth saving.

Muller sat beside him on the cot and began: ”There was one mistake in your story yesterday. I want you to think it over carefully. You said that you saw first a woman and then a man going through the neighbouring garden. I believe that one or both of these people is the criminal for whom we are looking. Therefore, I want you to try and remember everything that you can connect with them, every slightest detail.

Anything that you can tell us may be of the greatest importance.

Therefore, think very carefully.”

Knoll sat still a few moments, evidently trying hard to put his hazy recollections into useful form and shape. But it was also evident that orderly thinking was an unusual work for him, and he found it almost too difficult. ”I guess you 'better ask me questions, maybe that'll go,” he said after a pause.

Then Muller began to question. With his usual thoroughness he began at the very beginning: ”When was it that you climbed the fence to get into the shed?”

”It just struck nine o'clock when I put my foot on the lowest bar.”

”Are you sure of that?”