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.

"This purse--yes," answered the tramp with a perfect imitation of
Riedau's voice. "Why shouldn't I have bought this purse just like any
other?"

"Because you stole this purse from the man whom you--murdered," was the
commissioner's reply.

There was another moment of dead silence in the room. The commissioner
and Muller watched intently for any change of expression in the face
of the man who had just had such an accusation hurled at him. Even the
clerk and the two policemen at the door were interested to see what
would happen.

Knoll's calm impertinence vanished, a deadly pallor spread over his
face, and he seemed frozen to stone. He attempted to speak, but was not
able to control his voice. His hands were clenched and tremors shook his
gaunt but strong-muscled frame.

"When did I murder anybody?" he gasped finally in a hoarse croak.
"You'll have to prove it to me that I am a murderer."

"