one hand on the man's shoulder and said in a
voice that was quite gentle and kind again: "Johann Knoll, do not
waste your time, or ours, in thinking up useless lies. You are almost
convicted of this crime now. You have already acknowledged so much, that
there is but little more for you to say. If you make an open confession,
it will be greatly to your advantage."

Again the room was quiet while the others waited for what would happen.
For a moment the tramp stood silent, with the commissioner's right hand
resting on his shoulder. Then there was a sudden movement, a struggle
and a shout, and the two policemen had overpowered the prisoner and held
him firmly. Muller rose quickly and sprang to his chief's side. Riedau
had not even changed colour, and he said calmly: "Oh, never mind,
Muller; sit down again. The man had handcuffs on and he is quite quiet
now. I think he has sense enough to see that he is only harming himself
by his violence."

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."

"He was killed by a shot."

"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