METROPOLIS Slim looked the doctor in the face; the latter shrugged his shoulders. Slim bent over the prostrate man. "Georgi," he said in a low voice, "can you hear me?" The sick man nodded; it was the shadow of a nod. "Do you know who I amr" A second nod. "Are you in a condition to answer two or three questions?" Another nod. "How did you get the white silk clothes?" For a long time he received no answer apart from the gentle falling of the tear drops. Then came the voice, softer than a whisper.
".... He changed with me.... "Who did?" "Freder. ... Joh Fredersen's son....w "And then, Georgi?" "He told me I was to wait for him... . "VI/ait where, Georgi?" A long silence. And then, barely audible: "Ninetieth Street. House seven. Seventh floor ...." Slim did not question him further. He knew who lived there. He looked at the doctor; the latter's face wore a completely impenetrahle expression. Slim drew a breath as though he were sighing. He said, more deploringly than inquiringly: "Why did you not rather go there, Georgi. .. ," He huned to go but stopped still as Georgi's voice came wavering after him; ". . . . The city. . . . all the lights. . . . mOre than enough money. . . . It is written. ... . Forgive us our trespasses. , .. lead us not into temptation, . ' .. His voice died flway. His head fell to one side. He breathed as thotlgh his soul wept, for his eyes could do so no longer. The doctor clem'ed his throat cautiously. Slim raised his head as though somebody had called him, then dropped it again. "I shall come bac~ again," he said softly. "He is to remain under your care.... N
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