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
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