In the office, I sat him in the armchair and then sat down at the table.
“So, the watch hasn’t been found yet?” I asked.
He eyed me with indignation.
“Is Mr. Police Officer expecting that it will just somehow turn up?”
“I had hopes,” I said. “But since it didn’t turn up, there’s nothing I can do.”
“I’m no fan of our police force,” Moses said, looking steadily at me. “Or of this inn. Murders, avalanches… dogs, thieves, noises in the middle of the night… Who did you put in my room? I clearly said that the entire hallway is to be mine, excluding the den. I have no need for a den. How dare you break our agreement? Who is the vagrant they put in room three?”
“He was in the avalanche,” I said. “He’s been crippled, frostbitten. It would be cruel to have to drag him upstairs.”
“But I paid for room three! You were required to ask my permission!”
I couldn’t argue with him, I didn’t have the strength to explain that his drunk eyes had mistaken me for the owner. So I didn’t.
“The management offers its apologies, Mr. Moses, and assures you that tomorrow things will be back to normal.”
“Tramps!” Mr. Moses barked, pouncing on his mug. “Is he at least a respectable person, this vagrant in room three? Or is he some sort of thief?”
“An utterly respectable person,” I said, attempting to pacify him.
“In that case, why set your repulsive dog to watch him?”
“That is a pure coincidence,” I answered, closing my eyes. “Tomorrow things will return to normal, I promise you.”
“Perhaps the dead man will be resurrected?” the old bat asked sarcastically. “Perhaps you’d like to promise me that as well? Me, a Moses! Albert Moses, sir! I am not accustomed to dead men, dogs, resurrections, avalanches and cutthroats…”
I sat with my eyes closed and waited.
“I am not accustomed to someone bursting in on my wife in the middle of the night,” Mr. Moses continued. “I am not accustomed to losing three hundred crowns in one evening to some sort of traveling magician trying to pass himself off as an aristocrat. This Barl… Braddle… He’s simply a hustler! A Moses does not cut cards with hustlers! A Moses—we’re talking about a Moses here, sir!…”
He babbled on like this, growling, grumbling, slurping noisily, burping and puffing as I internalized the fact that a Moses was a Moses, that this was Albert Moses, sir, that he was not accustomed to this sort of, this damnable snow up to one’s knees, but that he was used to such things as, such things as coniferous baths, sir… I sat with closed eyes and attempted to escape by imagining how he managed to sleep without letting go of his mug—how he must have balanced it delicately, snoring and whistling, and taking a sip every once in a while, without waking up…
“There you have it, Inspector,” he said patronizingly, and stood up. “Remember what I said, and let this stand as a lesson to you for the rest of your life. You could learn a lot from it, sir. Good night.”
“One minute,” I said. “Two small questions.” He opened his mouth to voice his dissatisfaction, but I was ready and didn’t give him a chance. “Approximately when did you leave the dining room, Mr. Moses?”
“Approximately?” he grunted. “This is how you expect to solve the crime? Approximately!… I can give you a precise account. A Moses never does anything approximately, otherwise he wouldn’t be a Moses… Perhaps I might sit?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes, I beg your pardon.”
“Thank you, Inspector,” he said, even more sarcastically, and sat. “So then, I was with Mrs. Moses, whose room you barged into this very night in such an unpleasant manner, without any right, and not alone either, indeed, without even knocking, to say nothing of a warrant or anything of that nature—naturally I have no right to expect today’s police to respect such legal niceties as the right that every honest man has to his house, that is to say his fortress, particularly, sir, when we’re talking about the wife of a Moses, Albert Moses, Inspector!…”
“Yes, yes, that was reckless,” I said. “My sincerest apologies to you and Mrs. Moses.”
“I am unable to accept your apology, Inspector, until you clarify for me down to the utmost detail who the person settled in room three is (a room belonging to me), on what basis he is in a room adjoining my wife’s bedroom, and why he is being guarded by a dog.”
“We ourselves are not yet clear down to the utmost detail as to who this person is,” I said, again closing my eyes. “His car crashed; he is a cripple, he has one arm, he is currently asleep. As soon as we know anything about who he is, you will be informed, Mr. Moses.” I opened my eyes. “And now, let’s go back to that moment when you and Mrs. Moses left the dining room. When was that exactly?”
He lifted the mug to his lips and stared balefully at me.
“I am satisfied with your explanation,” he declared. “Allow me to express my hope that you will keep your promise and report back immediately.” He took a sip. “Mrs. Moses and I left the table and left the room at approximately—” He narrowed his eyes and with great disdain repeated, “Approximately, Inspector, at twenty-one hours and thirty-three minutes local time. Are you satisfied? Excellent. Let us proceed to your second, and I hope last question.”
“We are not yet completely finished with the first one,” I objected. “So, you left the dining room at twenty-one hours and thirty-three minutes. And then?”
“What ‘then’?” Moses asked angrily. “What are you trying to ask me, young man? You couldn’t possibly want to know what I did when I got back to my room?”
“The investigation would be in your debt, sir,” I said earnestly.
“The investigation? What do I care about your investigation’s thanks? Nevertheless, I have nothing to hide. Having returned to my room, I immediately undressed and went to bed. I then slept up until the time that awful noise and bustle arose in room three (which belongs to me). Only my natural restraint and the consciousness that I was a Moses prevented me from making my way there immediately and dispersing the rabble that the police had gotten together. Keep in mind, however, that my restraint has its limits, I will not tolerate idlers…”
“As is your right,” I said briskly. “One last question, Mr. Moses.”
“The last!” he said, shaking a threatening finger at me.
“Did you notice approximately when Mrs. Moses left the dining room?”
The pause that followed was excruciating. Moses stared at me with bulging eyes, his face turning blue.
“You dare to suggest that the wife of a Moses played a part in the murder?” he said in a choked voice. I shook my head vigorously, but it didn’t help. “And you dare suggest that a Moses in that situation would give you any sort of testimony? Or maybe you do not think that you are dealing with a Moses, sir? Perhaps you have allowed yourself to imagine that you are dealing with a one-armed tramp who stole a valuable gold watch from me? Or perhaps…”
I closed my eyes. Over the course of the next five minutes, I listened to the most incredible barrage of propositions concerning my intentions and designs, my attack on the honor, dignity, property and even physical security of a Moses, sir, which was not some low dog, good merely as a boardinghouse for fleas, but a Moses, Albert Moses, sir—are you capable of understanding that, or not?… By the time this speech was drawing to a close, I had already lost hope of receiving any sort of sensible answer. I realized with despair that now I would never get to question Mrs. Moses. But things took an unexpected turn. Suddenly Moses stopped and waited for me to open my eyes, and then said, with indescribable contempt: