The Case of the Lamp That Went Out
the arrest of one who had just taken the life of a fellow creature. The realisation of this gave the old man strength and calmness.     

       “A nice sort of an eye for size you have,” cried the tramp as the old man came up to him. “I suppose you’ve brought me in a boy’s suit? What do you take me for? Any girl could go to a ball in the shoes you brought me to try on here.”      

       “Are they so much too small?” asked the dealer in an innocent tone. “Well, there’s plenty more there. And perhaps you had better be trying on this suit behind the curtain here while I’m hunting up the shoes.”      

       This suggestion seemed to please the stranger, as he was evidently in a hurry. He passed in behind the curtain and began to undress. Goldstamm’s keen eyes watched him through a crack. There was not much to be seen except that the tramp seemed anxious to keep his overcoat within reach of his hand. He had carefully put the purse in one of its pockets.     

       “We’ll get the things all together pretty soon,” said the dealer. “I’ve found a pair of boots here, fine boots of good quality, and sure to fit.”      

       “Stop your talk,” growled the other, “and come here and help me so that I can get away.”      

       Goldstamm came forward, and though his heart was very heavy within him, he aided this man, this man about whom so many hundreds were now thinking in terror, as calmly as he had aided his other poor but honest customers.     

       With hands that did not tremble, the dealer busied himself about his customer, listening all the while to sounds in the street in the hope that his tete-e-tete with the murderer would soon be over. But in spite of all his natural anxiety, the old man’s sharp eyes took cognizance of various things, one of which was that the man whom he was helping to dress in his new clothes did not have the watch which was described in the police notice. This fact, however, did not make the old man’s heart any lighter, for the purse mended with yellow thread was too clearly the one stolen from the murdered man found in the quiet street in Hietzing.     

       “What’s the matter with you, you’re so slow? I can get along better myself,” growled the tramp, pushing the old man away from him. Goldstamm had really begun to tremble now in spite 
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