The evening was already far gone when Muller entered Riedau's office.
"You're in time, the man isn't here yet. The train is evidently late," said the commissioner. "We're working this case off quickly. We will have the murderer here in half an hour at the latest. He did not have much time to enjoy the stolen property. He was here in Vienna this morning, and was arrested in Pressburg this afternoon. Here is the telegram, read it."Dr. von Riedau handed Muller the message. The commissioner was evidently pleased and excited. The telegram read as follows: "Man arrested here in possession of described purse containing four ten gulden notes and four guldens in silver. Arrested in store of second-hand clothes dealer Goldstamm. Will arrive this evening in Vienna under guard."The message was signed by the Chief of the Pressburg police.
Muller laid the paper on the desk without a word. There was a watch on this desk already; it was a heavy gold watch, unusually thick, with the initials L. W. on the cover. Just as Muller laid down the telegram, a door outside was opened and the commissioner covered the watch hastily. There was a loud knock at his own door and an attendant entered to announce that the party from Pressburg had arrived He was followed by one of the Pressburg police force, who brought the official report.
"Did you have any difficulty with him?" asked the commissioner.
"Oh, no, sir; it was a very easy job. He made no resistance at all, and he seems to be quite sober now. But he hasn't said a word since we arrested him."Then followed the detailed report of the arrest, and the delivery of the described pocketbook to the commissioner.
"Is that all?" asked Dr. von Riedau.
"Yes, sir."
"Then you may go home now, we will take charge of the man."The policeman bowed and left the room. A few moments later the tramp was brought in, guarded by two armed roundsmen. His guards remained at the door, while the prisoner himself walked forward to the middle of the room. Commissioner von Riedau sat at his desk, his clerk beside him ready to take down the evidence. Muller sat near a window with a paper on his lap, looking the least interested of anybody in the proceedings.
For a moment there was complete silence in the room, which was broken in a rather unusual manner. A deep voice, more like a growl, although it had a queer strain of comic good-nature in it, began the proceedings with the remark: "Well now, say, what do you want of me, anyway?"The commissioner looked at the man in astonishment, then turned aside that the prisoner might not notice his smile. But he might have spared himself the trouble, for Muller, the clerk, and the two policemen at the door were all on a broad grin.
Then the commissioner pulled himself together again, and began with his usual official gravity: "It is I who ask questions here. Is it possible that you do not know this? You look to me as if you had had experience in police courts before." The commissioner gazed at the prisoner with eyes that were not altogether friendly. The tramp seemed to feel this, and his own eyes dropped, while the good-natured impertinence in his bearing disappeared. It was evidently the last remains of his intoxication. He was now quite sober.
"What is your name?" asked the commissioner.
"Johann Knoll."
"Where were you born?"
"Near Brunn."
"Your age?"
"I'm - I'll be forty next Christmas."
"Your religion?"
"Well, you can see I'm no Jew, can't you?"
"You will please answer my questions in a proper manner. This impertinence will not make things easier for you.""All right, sir," said the tramp humbly. "I am a Catholic.""You have been in prison before?" This was scarcely a question.
"No, sir," said Knoll firmly.
"What is your business?"
"I don't know what to say, sir," answered Knoll, shrugging his shoulders. "I've done a lot of things in my life. I'm a cattle drover and a lumber man, and I -""Did you learn any trade?"
"No, sir, I never learned anything."
"Do you mean to tell me that without having learned any trade you've gotten through life thus far honestly?""Oh, I've worked hard enough - I've worked good and hard sometimes.""The last few days particularly, eh?"
"Why, no, sir, not these last days - I was drover on a transport of pigs; we brought 'em down from Hungary, 200 of 'em, to the slaughter house here.""When was that?"
"That was - that was Monday."
"This last Monday?"
"Yes, sir.
"And then you went to Hietzing?"
"Yes, sir, that's right."
"Why did you go to Hietzing?"
"Why, see here, sir, if I had gone to Ottakring, then I suppose you would have asked why did I go to Ottakring. I just went to Hietzing.
A fellow has to go somewhere. You don't stay in the same spot all the time, do you?"Again the commissioner turned his head and another smile went through the room. This Hietzing murderer had a sense of humour.
"Well, then, we'll go to Hietzing again, in our minds at least,"said the commissioner, turning back to Knoll when he had controlled his merriment. "You went there on Monday, then - and the day was coming to an end. What did you do when you reached Hietzing?""I looked about for a place to sleep."
"Where did you look for a place to sleep?"
"Why, in Hietzing."
"That is not definite enough."
"Well, in a garden."
"You were trespassing, you mean?"
"Why, yes, sir. There wasn't anybody that seemed to want to invite me to dinner or to give me a place to sleep. I just had to look out for myself.""You evidently know how to look out for yourself at the cost of others, a heavy cost." The commissioner's easy tone had changed to sternness. Knoll felt this, and a sharp gleam shot out from his dull little eyes, while the tone of his voice was gruff and impertinent again as he asked: "What do you mean by that?""You know well enough. You had better not waste any more time, but tell us at once how you came into possession of this purse.""It's my purse," Knoll answered with calm impertinence. "I got it the way most people get it. I bought it.""This purse?" the commissioner emphasised both words distinctly.
