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o’clock at the mill. I was there ten minutes early.”
    “So it took you twenty minutes to walk with a horse about a kilometre? That is a reasonably slow pace.”
    “I had plenty of time; there was no need to rush the horse. I wanted him to look his best and strongest so I could get the best price.”
    “Which route did you take Herr Weide? Did you pass Mariannenstrasse?”
    Prala Weide shook his head.
    “It is nearby but in the wrong direction. It would have added another, maybe, ten minutes to my journey.”
    “So you took the most direct route to your meeting?”
    “Of course. Why would I take a longer one?”
    Deschler smiled.
    “Why indeed, Herr Weide? The prosecution has already tried to establish that you were in the general area. The fact that you were within ten minutes of Mariannenstrasse means that you were in the locality. Could you be mistaken? Could you have passed Mariannenstrasse?”
    Prala Weide shook his head once more.
    “No. I am not mistaken. I was not near Mariannenstrasse. There was no reason for me to be there.”
    Deschler nodded and took the piece of paper he was holding, turned it over and placed it on the table before picking up another from his pile.
    “Herr Weide, what was the name of the man you were meeting?” he asked.
    “Josef Jauner,” replied Weide.
    “Were you meeting him alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “And did he buy your horse?”
    “Yes. For seven hundred and forty-eight Reichsmarks.”
    “That is a very precise number.”
    For the first time Meyer saw Weide smile.
    “It was how the negotiations progressed,” he replied, with a shrug.
    Deschler stroked his moustache before continuing.
    “Were you happy with that price, Herr Weide?”
    “It was a reasonable price for the horse, yes.”
    “Remember you are not on trial for illegal horse trading Herr Weide, please be frank with the court about the price you were paid and the quality of the animal.”
    The smile had left Weide’s face now and his deep Romany voice was much quieter as he gave his answer.
    “I was very happy with the price. The horse was worth it mind you, but yes, I was very happy with the price.”
    “Josef Jauner paid you in full? And in cash? No promissory note?”
    Weide looked aghast.
    “In full. In cash. Nobody Romany does business on a promise!”
    Deschler made a mark with a pencil on the paper he was holding before continuing with the questions.
    “How long did these negotiations over the price for the horse take?”
    “I couldn’t be entirely certain but around twenty minutes, including the usual pleasantries.”
    “Pleasantries?” asked Deschler.
    “You know, asking about family health and so on. Passing on stories and news from the road.”
    Deschler nodded.
    “And after Herr Jauner had paid you and bid you farewell, did you go directly home?”
    It was Weide’s turn to stroke his moustache.
    “No, I didn’t go home directly. There are a few bars on the route and I thought that I would quench my thirst with a beer or two.”
    “How many bars did you frequent on your journey home?”
    “One.”
    “Only one, Herr Weide?”
    “Yes. Only one.”
    “And why only one, Herr Weide?”
    “I was arrested coming out of the bar next to the mill.”
    Deschler turned over his paper and placed it face down on the desk.
    “Thank you, Herr Weide. No further questions.”
    Deschler sat down and Judge Koehler asked Fuhrmann, the prosecutor, if he had any further questions.
    Fuhrmann stood and ran his fingers through his white hair, while reading notes through spectacles balanced precariously on the end of his nose. Without looking up from the paper he held, he asked, “Where is this Josef Jauner?”
    Weide looked over at Deschler and then back to Fuhrmann.
    “I don’t know.”
    Fuhrmann blinked and finally peered over his glasses at Weide.
    “The police also do not know where he is. Or where this,” Fuhrmann cleared his throat, “horse is.”
    He was then silent for a few moments before