"He did not tell me that; it might make a difference."
"That ... that is ... what I fear," said the girl, her eyes
looking keenly into those of the man who sat opposite. "And then,
it was his revolver."
"Then you do believe him guilty?"
"It would be horrible, horrible--and yet I do not know what to
think."
There was silence in the room for a moment. Miss Roemer's head
drooped again and her hands twisted nervously in her lap. Muller's
brain was very busy with this new phase of the problem. Finally
he spoke.
"Let us dismiss this side of the question and talk of another phase
of it, a phase of which it is necessary for me to know something.
You would naturally be the person nearest the dead man, the one, the
only one, perhaps, to whom he had given his confidence. Do you know
of any enemies he might have had in the city?"
"No, I do not know of any enemies, or even of any friends he had
there. When the terrible thing happened that clouded his past,
when he had regained his freedom, after his term of imprisonment,
there was no one left whom he cared to see again. He does not seem
to have borne any malice towards the banker who accused him of the
theft. The evidence was so strong against him that he felt the
suspicion was justified. But there was hatred in his heart for one
man, for the Justice who sentenced him, Justice Schmidt, who is now
Attorney General in G--."
"The man who, in the name of the State, will conduct this case?"
asked Muller quickly.
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