The barkeeper kept his head, but his color changed.
“I don't know anything about him.” He thrust his mop into the pail. K. rose.
“Does Schwitter know?”
“He doesn't know nothing. He's been out at the barn all night.”
The farmhand had filled his box and disappeared around the corner of the house. K. put his hand on Bill's shirt-sleeved arm.
“We've got to get him away from here, Bill.”
“Get who away?”
“You know. The county men may come back to search the premises.”
“How do I know you aren't one of them?”
“I guess you know I'm not. He's a friend of mine. As a matter of fact, I followed him here; but I was too late. Did he take the revolver away with him?”