The commissioner returned to his desk and Muller went back to his chair by the window. The prisoner was quiet again, although his face wore a dark flush and the veins on throat and forehead were swollen thick. He trembled noticeably and the heavy drops besprinkled his brow.
“I--I have something to say, sir,” he began, “but first I want to beg your pardon--”
“Oh, never mind that. I am not angry when a man is fighting for his life, even if he doesn’t choose quite the right way,” answered the commissioner calmly, playing with a lead pencil.
Knoll’s expression was defiant now. He laughed harshly and began again: “What I’m tellin’ you now is the truth whether you believe it or not. I didn’t kill the man. I took the watch and purse from him. I thought he was drunk. If he was killed, I didn’t do it.”
“A shot? Why, yes, I heard a shot, but I didn’t think any more about it, I didn’t think there was anythin’ doing, I thought somebody was shootin’ a cat, or else-”
“Oh, don’t bother to invent things. It was a man who was shot at, the man whom you robbed. But go on, go on. I am anxious to hear what you will tell me.”
Knoll’s hands, clenched to fists and his eyes glowed in hate and defiance. Then he dropped them to the floor again and began to talk slowly in a monotonous tone that sounded as if he were repeating a lesson. His manner was rather unfortunate and did not tend to induce belief in the truth of his story. The gist of what he said was as follows:
He had reached Hietzing on Monday evening about 8 o’clock. He was thirsty, as usual, and had about two gulden in his possession, his wages for the last day’s work. He turned into a tavern in Hietzing and ate and drank until his money was all gone, and he had not even enough left to pay for a night’s lodging. But Knoll was not worried about that. He was accustomed to sleeping out of doors, and as this was a particularly fine evening, there was nothing in the prospect to alarm him. He set about finding a suitable place where he would not be disturbed by the guardians of the law. His search led him by chance into a newly opened street. This suited him exactly. The fences were easy to climb, and there were several little summer houses in sight which made much more agreeable lodgings than the ground under a bush. And above all, the street was so quiet and deserted that he knew it was just the place for him. He had never been in the street before, and did not know its name. He passed the four houses at the end of the street--he was on the left sidewalk--and then he came to two fenced-in building lots. These interested him. He was very agile, raised himself up on the fences easily and took stock of the situation. One of the lots did not appeal to him particularly, but the second one did. It bordered on a large garden, in the middle of which he could see a little house of some kind. It was after sunset but he could see things quite plainly yet for the air was clear and the moon was just rising. He saw also that in the vacant lot adjoining the garden, a lot which appeared to have been a garden itself once, there was a sort of shed. It looked very much damaged but appeared to offer shelter sufficient for a fine night.
