We had seen enough dead men to know.
"There she is," said the doctor and straightened up.
He wiped the bullet and gave it to the officer.
"It is the same.
From the same weapon, isn't it?"
Koster bent down and looked closely at the little, dull shining bullets that rolled to and fro in the officer's hand.
"Yes," said he.
The officer wrapped them in paper and put them in his pocket.
"It is not allowed really," said he, then, "but if you want to take him home . . . The facts are clear, aren't they, doctor?" The doctor nodded. "You are coroner's doctor as well, of course," went on the officer; "in that case—if you like—only you must . . . It may be that a commission will come to-morrow—"
"I understand," said Koster. "We will leave everything just as it is."
The officers went.
The doctor had covered and stuck down Gottfried's wounds again.
"How will you do it?" he asked. "You can take the stretcher.
You only need send it back sometime during the day to-morrow."
"Yes, thank you," said Koster. "Come on, Bob."
"I'll help you," said the orderly.
I shook my head.
"We can manage."
We took up the stretcher, carried it out and laid it on the two left-hand seats, which with the lowered backs made a flat place.
The orderly and the doctor came out and watched us.
We put Gottfried's coat over him and drove off.
After a while Koster turned to me.
"We'll drive through the street again.
I've done it once already. But it was too soon then.
Perhaps they'll be about again now."
It began slowly to snow.
Koster drove the car almost noiselessly. He declutched, and often even shut off the en gine.
He did not want to be heard, though the four we were looking for didn't know, of course, that we had a car.
We glided along soundlessly like a white ghost through the ever more thickly falling snow.
I took a hammer out of the tool box and laid it beside me to be ready to spring out of the car and strike at once.
We passed along the street in which it had happened.
Under the street lamp was still a black patch of blood.
Koster switched off the lights.
We ran along close by the kerb and surveyed the street.
Not a soul was to be seen.
Only from a lighted pub we heard voices.
Koster pulled up at the crossing.
"Stay here," said he; "I want to have a look in the pub."
"I'll come with you," I replied.
He gave me a look that I recognised from the times when he would go on patrol by himself.
"I won't settle anything in the pub," said he. "He might get away from me still.
I only want to see if he is there.
Then we'll wait for him.
You stay here with Gottfried."
I nodded and he disappeared in the scurry of snow.
The flakes flew in my face and melted on my skin.
I suddenly couldn't bear Gottfried's being covered up, as if he didn't belong to us any more, and I pushed the coat from his head.
The snow now fell on his face also, on his eyes and his lips, but it did not melt.
I took a handkerchief and wiped it away, and put the coat over him again.
Koster came back.