I went on telling fortunes.  Every night I shut myself in, all alone, and studied the day’s thumb-prints with a magnifying-glass.  Imagine the devouring eagerness with which I pored over those mazy red spirals, with that document by my side which bore the right-hand thumb-and-finger-marks of that unknown murderer, printed with the dearest blood—­to me—­ that was ever shed on this earth!  And many and many a time I had to repeat the same old disappointed remark, ‘will they never correspond!’

But my reward came at last.  It was the print of the thumb of the forty-third man of Company C whom I had experimented on—­Private Franz Adler.  An hour before, I did not know the murderer’s name, or voice, or figure, or face, or nationality; but now I knew all these things!  I believed I might feel sure; the Frenchman’s repeated demonstrations being so good a warranty.  Still, there was a way to make sure.  I had an impression of Kruger’s left thumb.  In the morning I took him aside when he was off duty; and when we were out of sight and hearing of witnesses, I said, impressively—­

’A part of your fortune is so grave, that I thought it would be better for you if I did not tell it in public.  You and another man, whose fortune I was studying last night,—­Private Adler,—­have been murdering a woman and a child!  You are being dogged:  within five days both of you will be assassinated.’

He dropped on his knees, frightened out of his wits; and for five minutes he kept pouring out the same set of words, like a demented person, and in the same half-crying way which was one of my memories of that murderous night in my cabin—­

’I didn’t do it; upon my soul I didn’t do it; and I tried to keep him from doing it; I did, as God is my witness.  He did it alone.’

This was all I wanted.  And I tried to get rid of the fool; but no, he clung to me, imploring me to save him from the assassin.  He said—­

’I have money—­ten thousand dollars—­hid away, the fruit of loot and thievery; save me—­tell me what to do, and you shall have it, every penny.  Two-thirds of it is my cousin Adler’s; but you can take it all.  We hid it when we first came here.  But I hid it in a new place yesterday, and have not told him—­shall not tell him.  I was going to desert, and get away with it all.  It is gold, and too heavy to carry when one is running and dodging; but a woman who has been gone over the river two days to prepare my way for me is going to follow me with it; and if I got no chance to describe the hiding-place to her I was going to slip my silver watch into her hand, or send it to her, and she would understand.  There’s a piece of paper in the back of the case, which tells it all.  Here, take the watch—­tell me what to do!’

He was trying to press his watch upon me, and was exposing the paper and explaining it to me, when Adler appeared on the scene, about a dozen yards away.  I said to poor Kruger—­