The woman would have fled, but Brunner watched the old man intently. He saw the weapon in the hand of the other as well—-it had not been outright murder. And also the man did not run, but returned his gaze with troubled curiosity. At last some form of recognition seemed to come over him, because with a twisting gesture of the right arm which he could not lower, he beckoned them towards him.
"Come on," he said to the nurse.
She shook her head. "Make him drop the knife."
"All right." He lowered his mask. "My friend. . .we mean you no harm. As a gesture that you don't either, will you drop the knife?" The other looked puzzled. "Will you please drop the knife?"
At this he seemed to understand. He shook the arm with the knife in it, but would not let it go. "Why doesn't he drop it?"
Brunner advance slowly. "He can't. The bones have fused around it."
She came reluctantly behind and they made a semi-circle past the body, and stood at a small distance from him on the unshaded portion of the terrace.
"I would like to check your records," said the German slowly, pointing to the entrance. But at this the other's manner seemed to grow hostile. Brunner took a step toward the high door, and then was certain. The old man tried to cut them off, waving the arm with the knife. A terrible conflict of doubt seemed to be taking place inside him, as if in his ravaged mind he could not seize upon the memory he sought. Brunner walked slowly back into the sunlight. Something had to be done.
"Stay here," he said to the nurse. "I've got to talk to him."
"NO! Be careful."