Then the commissioner pulled himself together again, and began with his usual official gravity: “It is I who ask questions here. Is it possible that you do not know this? You look to me as if you had had experience in police courts before.” The commissioner gazed at the prisoner with eyes that were not altogether friendly. The tramp seemed to feel this, and his own eyes dropped, while the good-natured impertinence in his bearing disappeared. It was evidently the last remains of his intoxication. He was now quite sober.
“What is your name?” asked the commissioner.
“Johann Knoll.”
“Where were you born?”
“Near Brunn.”
“Your age?”
“I’m—I’ll be forty next Christmas.”
“Your religion?”
“Well, you can see I’m no Jew, can’t you?”
“You will please answer my questions in a proper manner. This impertinence will not make things easier for you.”