Muller's goal was the prison where Johann Knoll was awaiting his fate. The detective had permission to see the man as often as he wished to. Knoll had been proven a thief, but the accusation of murder against him had not been strengthened by anything but the most superficial circumstantial evidence, therefore it was necessary that Muller should talk with him in the hope of discovering something more definite.
Knoll lay asleep on his cot as the detective and the warder entered the cell. Muller motioned the attendant to leave him alone with the prisoner and he stood beside the cot looking down at the man.
The face on the hard pillow was not a very pleasant one to look at.
The skin was roughened and swollen and had that brown-purple tinge which comes from being constantly in the open air, and from habitual drinking. The weather-beaten look may be seen often in the faces of men whose honest work keeps them out of doors; but this man had not earned his colouring honestly, for he was one of the sort who worked only from time to time when it was absolutely necessary and there was no other way of getting a penny. His hands proved this, for although soiled and grimy they had soft, slender fingers which showed no signs of a life of toil. But even a man who has spent forty years in useless idling need not be all bad. There must have been some good left in this man or he could not have lain there so quietly, breathing easily, wrapped in a slumber as undisturbed as that of a child. It did not seem possible that any man could lie there like that with the guilt of murder on his conscience, or even with the knowledge in his soul that he had plundered a corpse.
Muller had never believed the first to be the case, but he had thought it possible that Knoll knew perfectly well that it was a lifeless body he was robbing. He had believed it at least until the moment when he stood looking down at the sleeping tramp. Now, with the deep knowledge of the human heart which was his by instinct and which his profession had increased a thousand-fold, Muller knew that this man before him had no heavy crime upon his conscience - that it was really as he had said - that he had taken the watch and purse from one whom he believed to be intoxicated only. Of course it was not a very commendable deed for which the tramp was now in prison, but it was slight in comparison to the crimes of which he was suspected.
Muller bent lower over the unconscious form and was surprised to see a gentle smile spread over the face before him. It brightened and changed the coarse rough face and gave it for a moment a look of almost child-like innocence. Somewhere within the coarsened soul there must be a spot of brightness from which such a smile could come.
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 embarrassment 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: "Ibelieve 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 gratitude. 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 embarrassed. "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.
