The Case of the Lamp That Went Out

by Auguste Groner

  CHAPTER VII. THE FACE AT THE GATE

  The second examination of the prisoner brought nothing new. JohannKnoll refused to speak at all, or else simply repeated what he had saidbefore. This second examination took place early the next morning, butMuller was not present. He was taking a walk in Hietzing.

  When they took Johann Knoll in the police wagon to the City Prison,Muller was just sauntering slowly through the street where the murderhad been committed. And as the door of the cell shut clangingly behindthe man whose face was distorted in impotent rage and despair, JosephMuller was standing in deep thought before the broken willow twig, whichnow hung brown and dry across the planks of the fence. He looked at itfor a long time. That is, he seemed to be looking at it, but in realityhis eyes were looking out and beyond the willow twig, out into theunknown, where the unknown murderer was still at large. LeopoldWinkler's body had already been committed to the earth. How long willit be before his death is avenged? Or perhaps how long may it even bebefore it is discovered from what motive this murder was committed. Wasit a murder for robbery, or a murder for personal revenge perhaps? Werethe two crimes committed here by one and the same person, or were theretwo people concerned? And if two, did they work as accomplices? Or is itpossible that Knoll's story was true? Did he really only rob the body,not realising that it was a dead man and not merely an intoxicatedsleeper as he had supposed? These and many more thoughts rushedtumultuously through Muller's brain until he sighed despairingly underthe pressure. Then he smiled in amusement at the wish that had crossedhis brain, the wish that this case might seem as simple to him as itapparently did to the commissioner. It would certainly have saved him alot of work and trouble if he could believe the obvious as most peopledid. What was this devil that rode him and spurred him on to delveinto the hidden facts concerning matters that seemed so simple on thesurface? The devil that spurred him on to understand that there alwayswas some hidden side to every case? Then the sigh and the smile passed,and Muller raised his head in one of the rare moments of pride in hisown gifts that this shy unassuming little man ever allowed himself. Thiswas the work that he was intended by Providence to do or he wouldn'thave been fitted for it, and it was work for the common good, for thepublic safety. Thinking back over the troubles of his early youth,Muller's heart rejoiced and he was glad in his own genius. Then themoment of unwonted elation passed and he bent his mind again to theproblem before him.

  He sauntered slowly through the quiet street in the direction of thefour houses. To reach them he passed the fence that enclosed this end ofthe Thorne property. Muller had already known, for the last twenty-fourhours at least, that the owner of the fine old estate was an artist bythe name of Herbert Thorne. His own landlady had informed him ofthis. He himself was new to the neighbourhood, having moved out thererecently, and he had verified her statements by the city directory. Ashe was now passing the Thorne property, in his slow, sauntering walk,he had just come within a dozen paces of the little wooden gate in thefence when this gate opened. Muller's naturally soft tread was madestill more noiseless by the fact that he wore wide soft shoes. Yearsbefore he had acquired a bad case of chilblains, in fact had been inimminent danger of having his feet frozen by standing for five hoursin the snow in front of a house, to intercept several aristocraticgentlemen who sooner or later would be obliged to leave that house. Thepolice had long suspected the existence of this high-class gambling den;but it was not until they had put Muller in charge of the case, thatthere were any results attained. The arrests were made at the risk ofpermanent injury to the celebrated detective. Since then, Muller's stepwas more noiseless than usual, and now the woman who opened the gateand peered out cautiously did not hear his approach nor did she see himstanding in the shadow of the fence. She looked towards the other endof the street, then turned and spoke to somebody behind her. "There'snobody coming from that direction," he said. Then she turned her headthe other way and saw Muller. She looked at him for a moment and slammedthe gate shut, disappearing behind it. Muller heard the lock click andheard the beat of running feet hastening rapidly over the gravel paththrough the garden.

  The detective stood immediately in front of the gate, shaking his head."What was the matter with the woman? What was it that she wanted to seeor do in the street? Why should she run away when she saw me?" Thesewere his thoughts. But he didn't waste time in merely thinking. Mullernever did. Action followed thought with him very quickly. He saw aknot-hole in the fence just beside the gate and he applied his eyesto this knot-hole. And through the knot-hole he saw something thatinterested and surprised him.

  The woman whose face had appeared so suddenly at the gate, anddisappeared still more suddenly, was the same woman whom he had seenbidding farewell to Mr. Thorne and his wife on the Tuesday morningprevious, the woman whom he took to be the housekeeper. The old butlerstood beside her. It was undoubtedly the same man, although he had worna livery then and was now dressed in a comfortable old house coat.He stood beside the woman, shaking his head and asking her just thequestions that Muller was asking himself at the moment.

  "Why, what is the matter with you, Mrs. Bernauer? You're so nervoussince yesterday. Are you ill? Everything seems to frighten you? Why didyou run away from that gate so suddenly? I thought you wanted me to showyou the place?"

  Mrs. Bernauer raised her head and Muller saw that her face looked paleand haggard and that her eyes shone with an uneasy feverish light. Shedid not answer the old man's questions, but made a gesture of farewelland then turned and walked slowly towards the house. She realised,apparently, and feared, perhaps, that the man who was passing the gatemight have noticed her sudden change of demeanour and that he waslistening to what she might say. She did not think of the knot-holein the board fence, or she might have been more careful in hiding herdistraught face from possible observers.

  Muller stood watching through this knot-hole for some little time. Hetook a careful observation of the garden, and from his point of vantagehe could easily see the little house which was apparently the dwellingof the gardener, as well as the mansard roof of the main building. Therewas considerable distance between the two houses. The detective decidedthat it might interest him to know something more about this garden,this house and the people who lived there. And when Muller made such adecision it was usually not very long before he carried it out.

  The other street, upon which the main front of the mansard house opened,contained a few isolated dwellings surrounded by gardens and a number ofnewly built apartment houses. On the ground floor of these latter houseswere a number of stores and immediately opposite the Thorne mansion wasa little cafe. This suited Muller exactly, for he had been there beforeand he remembered that from one of the windows there was an excellentview of the gate and the front entrance of the mansion opposite. It wasa very modest little cafe, but there was a fairly good wine to be hadthere and the detective made it an excuse to sit down by the window,as if enjoying his bottle while admiring the changing colours of thefoliage in the gardens opposite.

  Another rather good chance, he discovered, was the fact that thelandlord belonged to the talkative sort, and believed that therefreshments he had to sell were rendered doubly agreeable when spicedby conversation. In this case the good man was not mistaken. It wasscarcely ten o'clock in the forenoon and there were very few people inthe cafe. The landlord was quite at leisure to devote himself to thisstranger in the window seat, whom he did not remember to have seenbefore, and who was therefore doubly interesting to him. Severalsubjects of conversation usual in such cases, such as politics andthe weather, seemed to arouse no particular enthusiasm in his patron'smanner. Finally the portly landlord decided that he would touch upon thetheme which was still absorbing all Hietzing.

  "Oh, by the way, sir, do you know that you are in the immediate vicinityof the place where the murder of Monday evening was committed? Peopleare still talking about it around here. And I see by the papers that themurderer was arrested in Pressburg yesterday and brought to Vienna lastnight."
>
  "Indeed, is that so? I haven't seen a paper to-day," replied Muller,awakening from his apparent indifference.

  The landlord was flattered by the success of the new subject, and stoodready to unloose the floodgates of his eloquence. His customer sat upand asked the question for which the landlord was waiting.

  "So it was around here that the man was shot?"

  "Yes. His name was Leopold Winkler, that was in the papers to-day too.You see that pretty house opposite? Well, right behind this house is thegarden that belongs to it and back of that, an old garden which hasbeen neglected for some time. It was at the end of this garden whereit touches the other street, that they found the man under a bigelder-tree, early Tuesday morning, day before yesterday."

  "Oh, indeed!" said. Muller, greatly interested, as if this was the firsthe had heard of it. The landlord took a deep breath and was about tobegin again when his customer, who decided to keep the talkative manto a certain phase of the subject, now took command of the conversationhimself.

  "I should think that the people opposite, who live so near the placewhere the murder was committed, wouldn't be very much pleased," he said."I shouldn't care to look out on such a spot every time I went to mywindow."

  "There aren't any windows there," exclaimed the landlord, "for therearen't any houses there. There's only the old garden, and then the largegarden and the park belonging to Mr. Thorne's house, that fine old houseyou see just opposite here. It's a good thing that Mr. Thorne and hiswife went away before the murder became known. The lady hasn't been wellfor some weeks, she's very nervous and frail, and it probably would havefrightened her to think that such things were happening right close toher home."

  "The lady is sick? What's the matter with her?"

  "Goodness knows, nerves, heart trouble, something like that. The thingsthese fine ladies are always having. But she wasn't always that way, notuntil about a year ago. She was fresh and blooming and very pretty tolook at before that."

  "She is a young lady then?"

  "Yes, indeed, sir; she's very young still and very pretty. It makes youfeel sorry to see her so miserable, and you feel sorry for her husband.Now there's a young couple with everything in the world to make themhappy and so fond of each other, and the poor little lady has to be sosick."

  "They are very happy, you say?" asked Muller carelessly. He had noparticular set purpose in following up this inquiry, none but his usualunderstanding of the fact that a man in his business can never amass toomuch knowledge, and that it will sometimes happen that a chance bit ofinformation comes in very handy.

  The landlord was pleased at the encouragement and continued: "Indeedthey are very happy. They've only been married two years. The lady comesfrom a distance, from Graz. Her father is an army officer I believe, andI don't think she was over-rich. But she's a very sweet-looking lady andher rich husband is very fond of her, any one can see that."

  "You said just now that they had gone away, where have they gone to?"

  "They've gone to Italy, sir. Mrs. Thorne was one of the few people whodo not know Venice. Franz, that's the butler, sir, told me yesterdayevening that he had received a telegram saying that the lady andgentleman had arrived safely and were very comfortably fixed in theHotel Danieli. You know Danieli's?"

  "Yes, I do. I also was one of the few people who did not know Venice,that is I was until two years ago. Then, however, I had the pleasure ofriding over the Bridge of Mestre," answered Muller. He did not add thathe was not alone at the time, but had ridden across the long bridge incompany with a pale haggard-faced man who did not dare to look to theright or to the left because of the revolver which he knew was held inthe detective's hand under his loose overcoat. Muller's visit to Venice,like most of his journeyings, had been one of business. This time tocapture and bring home a notorious and long sought embezzler. He didnot volunteer any of this information, however, but merely asked ina politely interested manner whether the landlord himself had been toVenice.

  "Yes, indeed," replied the latter proudly. "I was head waiter at Baner'sfor two years."

  "Then you must make me some Italian dishes soon," said Muller. Furtherconversation was interrupted by the entrance of Franz, the old butler ofthe house opposite.

  "Excuse me, sir; I must get him his glass of wine," said the landlord,hurrying away to the bar. He returned in a moment with a small bottleand a glass and set it down on Muller's table.

  "You don't mind, sir, if he sits down here?" he asked. "He usually sitshere at this table because then he can see if he is needed over at thehouse."

  "Oh, please let him come here. He has prior rights to this tableundoubtedly," said the stranger politely. The old butler sat downwith an embarrassed murmur, as the voluble landlord explained that thestranger had no objection. Then the boniface hurried off to attend tosome newly entered customers and the detective, greatly pleased at theprospect, found himself alone with the old servant.

  "You come here frequently?" he began, to open the conversation.

  "Yes, sir, since my master and myself have settled down here--wetravelled most of the time until several years ago--I find this placevery convenient. It's a cosy little room, the wine is good and notexpensive, I'm near home and yet I can see some new faces occasionally."

  "I hope the faces that you see about you at home are not so unpleasantthat you are glad to get away from them?" asked Muller with a smile.

  The old man gave a start of alarm. "Oh, dear, no, sir," he exclaimedeagerly; "that wasn't what I meant. Indeed I'm fond of everybody in thehouse from our dear lady down to the poor little dog."

  Here Muller gained another little bit of knowledge, the fact that thelady of the house was the favourite of her servants, or that she seemedto them even more an object of adoration than the master.

  "Then you evidently have a very good place, since you seem so fond ofevery one."

  "Indeed I have a good place, sir."

  "You've had this place a long time?"

  "More than twenty years. My master was only eleven years old when I tookservice with the family."

  "Ah, indeed! then you must be a person of importance in the house if youhave been there so long?"

  "Well more or less I might say I am," the old man smiled and lookedflattered, then added: "But the housekeeper, Mrs. Bernauer, is even moreimportant than I am, to tell you the truth. She was nurse to our presentyoung master, and she's been in the house ever since. When hisparents died, it's some years ago now, she took entire charge of thehousekeeping. She was a fine active woman then, and now the young masterand mistress couldn't get along without her. They treat her as if shewas one of the family."

  "And she is ill also? I say also," explained Muller, "because thelandlord has just been telling me that your mistress is ill."

  "Yes, indeed, more's the pity! our poor dear young lady has beenmiserable for nearly a year now. It's a shame to see such a sweet angelas she is suffer like that and the master's quite heart-broken over it.But there's nothing the matter with Mrs. Bernauer. How did you come tothink that she was sick?"

  Muller did not intend to explain that the change in the housekeeper'sappearance, a change which had come about between Tuesday morning andThursday morning, might easily have made any one think that she wasill. He gave as excuse for his question the old man's own words: "Why,I thought that she might be ill also because you said yourself that thehousekeeper--what did you say her name was?"

  "Bernauer, Mrs. Adele Bernauer. She was a widow when she came to takecare of the master. Her husband was a sergeant of artillery."

  "Well, I mean," continued Muller, "you said yourself that when thegentleman's parents died, Mrs. Bernauer was a fine active woman,therefore I supposed she was no longer so."

  Franz thought the matter over for a while. "I don't know just why I putit that way. Indeed she's still as active as ever and always fresh andwell. It's true that for the last two or three days she's been verynervous and since yesterday it is as if she was a changed woman. Shemust be ill, I do
n't know how to explain it otherwise."

  "What seems to be the matter with her?" asked Muller and then to explainhis interest in the housekeeper's health, he fabricated a story: "Istudied medicine at one time and although I didn't finish my courseor get a diploma, I've always had a great interest in such things, andevery now and then I'll take a case, particularly nervous diseases. Thatwas my specialty." Muller took up his glass and turned away from thewindow, for he felt a slow flush rising to his cheeks. It was anotherof Muller's peculiarities that he always felt an inward embarrassment atthe lies he was obliged to tell in his profession.

  The butler did not seem to have noticed it however, and appeared eagerto tell of what concerned him in the housekeeper's appearance anddemeanour. "Why, yesterday at dinner time was the first that we beganto notice anything wrong with Mrs. Bernauer. The rest of us, that is,Lizzie the upstairs girl, the cook and myself. She began to eat herdinner with a good appetite, then suddenly, when we got as far as thepudding, she let her fork fall and turned deathly white. She got upwithout saying a word and left the room. Lizzie ran after her to ask ifanything was the matter, but she said no, it was nothing of importance.After dinner, she went right out, saying she was doing some errands.She brought in a lot of newspapers, which was quite unusual, for shesometimes does not look at a newspaper once a week even. I wouldn't havenoticed it but Lizzie's the kind that sees and hears everything andshe told us about it." Franz stopped to take a drink, and Muller saidindifferently, "I suppose Mrs. Bernauer was interested in the murdercase. The whole neighbourhood seems to be aroused about it."

  "No, I don't think that was it," answered the old servant, "because thenshe would have sent for a paper this morning too."

  "And she didn't do that?"

  "No, unless she might have gone out for it herself. There's a news standright next door here. But I don't think she did because I would haveseen the paper around the house then."

  "And is that all that's the matter with her?" asked Muller in a tone ofdisappointment. "Why, I thought you'd have something really interestingto tell me."

  "Oh, no, that isn't all, sir," exclaimed the old man eagerly.

  Muller leaned forward, really interested now, while Franz continued:"She was uneasy all the afternoon yesterday. She walked up and downstairs and through the halls--I remember Lizzie making some joke aboutit--and then in the evening to our surprise she suddenly began a greatrummaging in the first story."

  "Is that where she lives?"

  "Oh, no; her room is in the wing out towards the garden. The rooms onthe first floor all belong to the master and mistress. This morning wefound out that Mrs. Bernauer's cleaning up of the evening before hadbeen done because she remembered that the master wanted to take somepapers with him but couldn't find them and had asked her to look forthem and send them right on."

  "Well, I shouldn't call that a sign of any particular nervousness, butrather an evidence of Mrs. Bernauer's devotion to her duty."

  "Oh, yes, sir--but it certainly is queer that she should go intothe garden at four o'clock this morning and appear to be looking forsomething along the paths and under the bushes. Even if a few of thepapers blew out of the window, or blew away from the summer house, wherethe master writes sometimes, they couldn't have scattered all over thegarden like that."

  Muller didn't follow up this subject any longer. There might come atime when he would be interested in finding out the reason for thehousekeeper's search in the garden, but just at present he wantedsomething else. He remembered some remark of the old man's about the"poor little dog," and on this he built his plan.

  "Oh, well," he said carelessly, "almost everybody is nervous andimpatient now-a-days. I suppose Mrs. Bernauer felt uneasy becauseshe couldn't find the paper right away. There's nothing particularlyinteresting or noticeable about that. Anyway, I've been occupying myselfmuch more these last years with sick animals rather than with sickpeople. I've had some very successful cures there."

  "No, really, have you? Then you could do us a great favour," exclaimedFranz in apparent eagerness. Muller's heart rejoiced. He had apparentlyhit it right this time. He knew that in a house like that "a poor dog"could only mean a "sick dog." But his voice was quite calm as he asked:"How can I do you a favour?"

  "Why, you see, sir, we've got a little terrier," explained the old man,who had quite forgotten the fact that he had mentioned the dog before."And there's been something the matter with the poor little chap forseveral days. He won't eat or drink, he bites at the grass and rollsaround on his stomach and cries--it's a pity to see him. If you're fondof animals and know how to take care of them, you may be able to help usthere."

  "You want me to look at the little dog? Why, yes, I suppose I can."

  "We'll appreciate it," said the old man with an embarrassed smile. ButMuller shook his head and continued: "No, never mind the payment, Iwouldn't take any money for it. But I'll tell you what you can dofor me. I'm very fond of flowers. If you think you can take theresponsibility of letting me walk around in the garden for a littlewhile, and pick a rose or two, I will be greatly pleased."

  "Why, of course you may," said Franz. "Take any of the roses you seethere that please you. They're nearly over for the season now and it'sbetter they should be picked rather than left to fade on the bush.We don't use so many flowers in the house now when the family are notthere."

  "All right, then, it's a bargain," laughed Muller, signalling to thelandlord. "Are you, going already?" asked the old servant.

  "Yes, I must be going if I am to spend any time with the little dog."

  "I suppose I ought to be at home myself," said Franz. "Something's thematter with the electric wiring in our place. The bell in the master'sroom keeps ringing. I wrote to Siemens & Halske to send us a man outto fix it. He's likely to come any minute now." The two men rose, paidtheir checks, and went out together. Outside the cafe Muller hesitateda moment. "You go on ahead," he said to Franz. "I want to go in here andget a cigar."

  While buying his cigar and lighting it, he asked for several newspapers,choosing those which his quick eye had told him were no longer among thepiles on the counter. "I'm very sorry, sir," said the clerk; "we haveonly a few of those papers, just two or three more than we need for ourregular customers, and this morning they are all sold. The housekeeperfrom the Thorne mansion took the very last ones."

  This was exactly what Muller wanted to know. He left the store andcaught up with the old butler as the latter was opening the handsomeiron gate that led from the Thorne property out onto the street.

  "Well, where's our little patient?" asked the detective as he walkedthrough the courtyard with Franz.

  "You'll see him in a minute," answered the old servant. He led the waythrough a light roomy corridor furnished with handsome old pieces inempire style, and opened a door at its further end.

  "This is my room."

  It was a large light room with two windows opening on the garden. Mullerwas not at all pleased that the journey through the hall had been such ashort one. However he was in the house, that was something, and he couldafford to trust to chance for the rest. Meanwhile he would look at thedog. The little terrier lay in a corner by the stove and it did not takeMuller more than two or three minutes to discover that there was nothingthe matter with the small patient but a simple case of over-eating.But he put on a very wise expression as he handled the little dog andlooking up, asked if he could get some chamomile tea.

  "I'll go for it, I think there's some in the house. Do you want it madefresh?" said Franz.

  "Yes, that will be better, about a cupful will do," was Muller's answer.He knew that this harmless remedy would be likely to do the dog good andat the present moment he wanted to be left alone in the room. As soonas Franz had gone, the detective hastened to the window, placing himselfbehind the curtain so that he could not be seen from outside. He himselfcould see first a wide courtyard lying between the two wings of thehouse, then beyond it the garden, an immense square plot of groundbeautifully cultivate
d. The left wing of the house was about six windowslonger than the other, and from the first story of it it would be quiteeasy to look out over the vacant lot where the old shed stood which hadserved as a night's lodging for Johann Knoll.

  There was not the slightest doubt in Muller's mind that this part of thetramp's story was true, for by a natural process of elimination he knewthere was nothing to be gained by inventing any such tale. Besideswhich the detective himself had been to look at the shed. His well-knownpedantic thoroughness would not permit him to take any one's word foranything that he might find out for himself. In his investigations onTuesday morning he had already seen the half-ruined shed, now he knewthat it contained a broken bench.

  Thus far, therefore, Knoll's story was proved to be true--but there wassomething that didn't quite hitch in another way. The tramp had saidthat he had seen first a woman and then a man come from the main houseand go in the direction of the smaller house which he took to be thegardener's dwelling. This Muller discovered now was quite impossible.A tall hedge, fully seven or eight feet high and very thick, stretchedfrom the courtyard far down into the garden past the gardener's littlehouse. There was a broad path on the right and the left of this greenwall. From his position in the shed, Knoll could have seen peoplepassing only when they were on the right side of the hedge. But to reachthe gardener's house from the main dwelling, the shortest way would beon the left side of the hedge. This much Muller saw, then he heard thebutler's steps along the hall and he went back to the corner where thedog lay.

  Franz was not alone. There was some one else with him, the housekeeper,Mrs. Bernauer. Just as they opened the door, Muller heard her say:"If the gentleman is a veterinary, then we'd better ask him about theparrot--"

  The sentence was never finished. Muller never found out what was thematter with the parrot, for as he looked up with a polite smile ofinterest, he looked into a pale face, into a pair of eyes that openedwide in terror, and heard trembling lips frame the words: "There he isagain!"

  A moment later Mrs. Bernauer would have been glad to have recalled herexclamation, but it was too late.

  Muller bowed before her and asked: "'There he is again,' you said; haveyou ever seen me before?"

  The woman looked at him as if hypnotised and answered almost in awhisper: "I saw you Tuesday morning for the first time, Tuesday morningwhen the family were going away. Then I saw you pass through our streettwice again that same day. This morning you went past the garden gateand now I find you here. What-what is it you want of us?"

  "I will tell you what I want, Mrs. Bernauer, but first I want to speakto you alone. Mr. Franz doesn't mind leaving us for a while, does he?"

  "But why?" said the old man hesitatingly. He didn't understand at allwhat was going on and he would much rather have remained.

  "Because I came here for the special purpose of speaking to Mrs.Bernauer," replied Muller calmly.

  "Then you didn't come on account of the dog?"

  "No, I didn't come on account of the dog."

  "Then you--you lied to me?"

  "Partly."

  "And you're no veterinary?"

  "No--I can help your dog, but I am not a veterinary and never havebeen."

  "What are you then?"

  "I will tell Mrs. Bernauer who and what I am when you areoutside--outside in the courtyard there. You can walk about in thegarden if you want to, or else go and get some simple purgative for thisdog. That is all he needs; he has been over-fed."

  Franz was quite bewildered. These new developments promised to beinteresting and he was torn between his desire to know more, and hisdoubts as to the propriety of leaving the housekeeper with this queerstranger. He hesitated until the woman herself motioned to him to go. Hewent out into the hall, then into the courtyard, watched by the two inthe room who stood silently in the window until they saw the butler passdown into the garden. Then they looked at each other.

  "You belong to the police?" asked Adele Bernauer finally with a deepsigh.

  "That was a good guess," replied Muller with an ironic smile, adding:"All who have any reason to fear us are very quick in recognising us."

  "What do you mean by that?" she exclaimed with a start. "What are youthinking of?"

  "I am thinking about the same thing that you are thinking of--that Ihave proved you are thinking of--the same thing that drove you out intothe street yesterday and this morning to buy the papers. These papersprint news which is interesting many people just now, and some people agreat deal. I am thinking of the same thing that was evidently in yourthoughts as you peered out of the garden gate this morning, although youwould not come out into the street. I know that you do not read even onenewspaper regularly. I know also that yesterday and today you boughta great many papers, apparently to get every possible detail about acertain subject. Do you deny this?"

  She did not deny it, she did not answer at all. She sank down ona chair, her wide staring eyes looking straight ahead of her, andtrembling so that the old chair cracked underneath her weight. But thiscondition did not last long. The woman had herself well under control.Muller's coming, or something else, perhaps, may have overwhelmed herfor a moment, but she soon regained her usual self-possession.

  "Still you have not told me what you want here," she began coldly,and as he did not answer she continued: "I have a feeling that youare watching us. I had this feeling when I saw you the first time andnoticed then--pardon my frankness--that you stared at us sharply whilewe were saying goodbye to our master and mistress. Then I saw you passtwice again through the street and look up at our windows. This morningI find you at our garden gate and now--you will pardon me if I tell theexact truth--now you have wormed yourself in here under false pretensesbecause you have no right whatever to force an entrance into this house.And I ask you again, what do you want here?"

  Muller was embarrassed. That did not happen very often. Also it did nothappen very often that he was in the wrong as he was now. The womanwas absolutely right. He had wormed himself into the house under falsepretenses to follow up the new clue which almost unconsciously as yetwas leading him on with a stronger and stronger attraction. He could nothave explained it and he certainly was not ready to say anything aboutit at police headquarters, even at the risk of being obliged to continueto enter this mysterious house under false pretenses and to be toldthat he was doing so. Of course this sort of thing was necessary in hisbusiness, it was the only way in which he could follow up the criminals.

  But there was something in this woman's words that cut into a sensitivespot and drove the blood to his cheeks. There was something in thebearing and manner of this one-time nurse that impressed him, althoughhe was not a man to be lightly impressed. He had a feeling that he hadmade a fool of himself and it bothered him. For a moment he did not knowwhat he should say to this woman who stood before him with so much quietenergy in her bearing. But the something in his brain, the somethingthat made him what he was, whispered to him that he had done right, andthat he must follow up the trail he had found. That gave him back hisusual calm.

  He took up his hat, and standing before the pale-faced woman, lookingher firmly in the eyes, he said: "It is true that I have no right as yetto force my way into your house, therefore I have been obliged to enterit as best I could. I have done this often in my work, but I do itfor the safety of society. And those who reproach me for doing it aregenerally those whom I have been obliged to persecute in the name ofthe law. Mrs. Bernauer, I will confess that there are moments in which Ifeel ashamed that I have chosen this profession that compels me tohunt down human beings. But I do not believe that this is one of thosemoments. You have read this morning's papers; you must know, therefore,that a man has been arrested and accused of the murder which interestsyou so much; you must be able to realise the terror and anxiety whichare now filling this man's heart. For to-day's papers--I have read themmyself--expressed the public sentiment that the police may succeed inconvicting this man of the crime, that the death may be avenged andjustice have her
due. Several of these papers, the papers I know youhave bought and presumably read, do not doubt that Johann Knoll is themurderer of Leopold Winkler.

  "Now there are at least two people who do not believe that Knoll is themurderer. I am one of them, and you, Mrs. Bernauer, you are the other.I am going now and when I come again, as I doubtless will come again,I will come with full right to enter this house. I acknowledge franklythat I have no justification in causing your arrest as yet, but you arequite clever enough to know that if I had the faintest justification Iwould not leave here alone. And one thing more I have to say. You maynot know that I have had the most extraordinary luck in my profession,that in more than a hundred cases there have been but two where thecriminal I was hunting escaped me. And now, Mrs. Bernauer, I will bidyou good day."

  Muller stepped towards the window and motioned to Franz, who was walkingup and down outside. The old man ran to the door and met the detectivein the hall.

  "You'd better go in and look after Mrs. Bernauer," said the latter, "Ican find my way out alone."

  Franz looked after him, shaking his head in bewilderment and thenentered his own room. "Merciful God!" he exclaimed, bending down interror over the housekeeper, who lay on the floor. In his shock andbewilderment he imagined that she too had been murdered, until herealised that it was only a swoon from which she recovered in a moment.He helped her regain her feet and she looked about as if still dazed,stammering: "Has he gone?"

  "The strange man? ... Yes, he went some time ago. But what happened toyou? Did he give you something to make you faint? Do you think he was athief?"

  Mrs. Bernauer shook her head and murmured: "Oh, no, quite the contrary."A remark which did not enlighten Franz particularly as to the statusof the man who had just left them. There was a note of fear in thehousekeepers's voice and she added hastily: "Does any one besidesourselves know that he was here?"

  "No, Lizzie and the cook are in the kitchen talking about the murder."

  Mrs. Bernauer shivered again and went slowly out of the room and up thestairs.

  If Franz believed that the stranger had left the house by the frontentrance he was very much mistaken. When Muller found himself alone inthe corridor he turned quickly and hurried out into the garden. Noneof the servants had seen him. Lizzie and the cook were engaged in anearnest conversation in the kitchen and Franz was fully occupied withMrs. Bernauer. The gardener was away and his wife busy at her washtubs. No one was aware, therefore, that Muller spent about ten minuteswandering about the garden, and ten minutes were quite sufficient forhim to become so well acquainted with the place that he could have drawna map of it. He left the garden through the rear gate, the latch ofwhich he was obliged to leave open. The gardener's wife found it thatway several hours later and was rather surprised thereat. Muller walkeddown the street rapidly and caught a passing tramway. His mood wasnot of the best, for he could not make up his mind whether or no thismorning had been a lost one. His mind sorted and rearranged all thathe knew or could imagine concerning Mrs. Bernauer. But there was hardlyenough of these facts to reassure him that he was not on a false trail,that he had not allowed himself to waste precious hours all because hehad seen a woman's haggard face appear for a moment at the little gatein the quiet street.