"I wish to know if you can tell me the reason Moxton was murdered?" said Ellis, slowly, in German.
"No, I cannot. I know nothing about it."
"Then I must tell you--that is, I must refresh your memory. Moxton was murdered by a man who wished to obtain possession of a forged bill."
The German bit his cigar through, and a portion fell on the floor. "I know nothing of any forged bill," he said angrily.
"That bill," resumed Ellis, calmly, "was placed by Moxton in a red pocket-book." Here Schwartz started and groaned. "Zirknitz saw him put it there. When the clothes of the corpse were examined, that pocket-book was missing; and, strange to say, Mr. Schwartz, it was found to-day in your desk at Goethe Cottage."
"In my desk!" gasped the man. "Who--who found it there?"
"Miss Gordon. For a jest, Miss Garret opened all the drawers of your desk, because you were foolish enough to leave your keys behind. Miss Gordon closed them again. In the lowest drawer she saw and recognised the pocket-book of her brother-in-law. That book is now in her possession--or rather, in mine, as she gave it to me."
There was silence for a few moments, and Schwartz breathed heavily. "What do you want me to do?" he said sullenly.
"Confess your guilt."
"And if I do--what then?"