"That's all right. I won't keep you fifteen minutes. I want you to tell me all you know about the night of the Balfame murder."
He had taken the young German's arm and felt it stiffen. "I know nothing," was the reply.
"Oh, yes, you do. You took Frieda home and got there some little time before the shooting. You went in the side entrance to the back yard, but you could see the grove all right."
"It was a black-dark night. I could see nothing in the grove."
"Ah! You saw something else! You have been afraid to speak out, as there had been talk of your father having employed gun-men—"
"Such lies!" shrieked young Kraus.
"Of course! I know that. So does the press. That was a wild dream of the police. But all the same you thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep clear of the whole business. That is true. Don't attempt to deny it. You saw something that would put the law on the right track. Now, what was it? There are five hundred dollars waiting for you if you will tell the truth. I don't want anything but the truth, mind you. I don't represent a paper that pays for lies, so your honour is quite safe. So also are you."
Conrad ruminated for a few moments. He was literal and honest and wanted to be quite positive that he was not asked to do something which would make him feel uncomfortable while investing those desirable five hundred dollars in West Elsinore town lots, and could reassure himself that the truth was always right whether commercially valuable or not. He balanced the pro's and con's so long that Bruce was about to break out impatiently just as he made up his mind.
"Yes, I saw something. But I wished to say nothing. They might say that I was in it, or that I lied to protect Frieda—"
"That's all right. There was no possible connection between her and Balfame—"