Christian said: “I really don’t remember precisely. I do remember the ring and the girl’s pleasure in it, but I can’t tell you to-day just why I smiled. It would have been better, by the way, if the girl had been less happy. A few days later she lost the ring, and the poor thing cried for hours. It would have been better if I had said to her: ‘Neither the ring nor the stone is worth anything.’ I should have told her to throw it away. On such occasions it is almost always better to say to people, ‘Throw it away.’ Perhaps I smiled because that is what I wanted to say and didn’t have the courage.” “That’s how it looked,” Dr. Voltolini said quickly and with a touch of excitement. “That’s the impression I had.” “Why speak of it?” Christian said. They had reached the house on Stolpische Street. Niels Heinrich, who had followed them, disappeared among the vehicles on the street. Dr. Voltolini looked at the pavement, and said with embarrassment and hesitation: “You could do a great deal for me in the sense you suggested, if I might call on you every now and then. It sounds strange and like a confession of weakness, coming from a man of my years to one of yours. I can’t justify my request, but I know I should be helped. I would get on and be more reconciled to my fate and work harder at the re-establishment of my life.” His eyes were turned tensely to Christian’s face. Christian lowered his head, and after some reflection answered: “Your request is very flattering. I should be glad to serve you; I hope I may. But in order not to put you off with empty phrases, I should tell you that I shall be deeply preoccupied in the immediate future--not only inwardly, I am always that, but outwardly too. I am confronted with a difficult task--a terribly difficult task.” Struck by Christian’s terrible seriousness Dr. Voltolini said: “I don’t mean to be inquisitive. But may I ask what that task is?” “To find the man who murdered Ruth Hofmann.” “How?” The physician was utterly astonished. “But I thought that the ... murderer had been arrested.” Christian shook his head. “It is not the right man,” he said, softly but with assurance. “I saw him. I saw him when he appeared before the investigating judge. I knew him before the crime too. He is not the murderer.” “That sounds strange,” said Dr. Voltolini. “Is that merely your personal opinion, or do the authorities also----?” “It’s not an opinion,” Christian said meditatively. “Perhaps it’s more, perhaps it’s less--quite as one chooses. I don’t know what the authorities suspect. Undoubtedly they consider Joachim Heinzen the murderer. He has confessed, but I consider his confession false.” “Did you express that opinion before the judge?” “No. How could I have done that? I haven’t even a legitimate suspicion. Only I know that the man who is now held is not the murderer.” “But how do you expect to find the real criminal, if you haven’t even a suspicion?” “I don’t know, but I must do it.”