Bucholz related to him at this interview a dream which he said he had the evening before. He had seen the court assembled—the room was filled with people and his trial was going on. Then, stopping suddenly in his narration, he gazed wildly at his companion, and exclaimed:
"If you are a detective, you have made a nice catch this time. But, you see I have a steady hand yet, and if you were to take the stand against me, I would rise in my place and denounce you to the court. Then I would plunge a knife into my heart."
The detective looked unflinchingly and scornfully into the glaring eyes of the man before him, and laughed lightly at his ravings. He resolved, however, in order to prevent accidents, that every precaution should be taken against the occurrence of such a scene.
He had no fear that Bucholz would do what he threatened. At heart he knew the man to be a coward. No one who could stealthily creep behind his unsuspecting victim and deal the deadly blow of an assassin could, in his opinion, possess the moral courage to face a death by his own hands, and particularly after the failure of this first attempt.
He did not communicate this opinion to the prisoner, but he treated the subject in a jesting manner, and told him that if he heard any more of such nonsense he would inform the prison authorities and his liberty would be curtailed.
He then proceeded to unfold a plan which he had concocted for the relief of his friend, and to manufacture evidence that would bear an important part in the coming trial.
He would procure an old shirt and a pair of pantaloons, which he would first stain with blood, and would then bury them in the ground near to the scene of the murder, and would then write an anonymous letter to the State's attorney and to the counsel for Bucholz, informing them of the place where they could be found.
The prisoner eagerly accepted this suggestion. He seemed to forget his pain, his fears and his suspicions as he listened, and when Sommers had concluded he laughed heartily, then he added, hurriedly:
"You must get an axe also, and bury that with the clothes; that was——"
He stopped abruptly, as though afraid of saying too much, and Sommers looked inquiringly into his face.