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diff --git a/1834-h/1834-h.htm b/1834-h/1834-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70cb34a --- /dev/null +++ b/1834-h/1834-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2552 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Case of the Pocket Diary Found in The Snow, by Grace Isabel Colbron + and Augusta Groner + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Case of The Pocket Diary Found in the +Snow, by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Case of The Pocket Diary Found in the Snow + +Author: Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner + +Release Date: October 29, 2008 [EBook #1834] +Last Updated: October 14, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POCKET DIARY *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE CASE OF THE POCKET DIARY FOUND IN THE SNOW + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION TO JOE MULLER </a> + </p> + <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>THE CASE OF THE POCKET DIARY FOUND IN + THE SNOW</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE. THE DISCOVERY IN THE SNOW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO. THE STORY OF THE NOTEBOOK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE. THE LONELY COTTAGE </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION TO JOE MULLER + </h2> + <p> + Joseph Muller, Secret Service detective of the Imperial Austrian police, + is one of the great experts in his profession. In personality he differs + greatly from other famous detectives. He has neither the impressive + authority of Sherlock Holmes, nor the keen brilliancy of Monsieur Lecoq. + Muller is a small, slight, plain-looking man, of indefinite age, and of + much humbleness of mien. A naturally retiring, modest disposition, and two + external causes are the reasons for Muller’s humbleness of manner, which + is his chief characteristic. One cause is the fact that in early youth a + miscarriage of justice gave him several years in prison, an experience + which cast a stigma on his name and which made it impossible for him, for + many years after, to obtain honest employment. But the world is richer, + and safer, by Muller’s early misfortune. For it was this experience which + threw him back on his own peculiar talents for a livelihood, and drove him + into the police force. Had he been able to enter any other profession, his + genius might have been stunted to a mere pastime, instead of being, as + now, utilised for the public good. + </p> + <p> + Then, the red tape and bureaucratic etiquette which attaches to every + governmental department, puts the secret service men of the Imperial + police on a par with the lower ranks of the subordinates. Muller’s + official rank is scarcely much higher than that of a policeman, although + kings and councillors consult him and the Police Department realises to + the full what a treasure it has in him. But official red tape, and his + early misfortune... prevent the giving of any higher official standing to + even such a genius. Born and bred to such conditions, Muller understands + them, and his natural modesty of disposition asks for no outward honours, + asks for nothing but an income sufficient for his simple needs, and for + aid and opportunity to occupy himself in the way he most enjoys. + </p> + <p> + Joseph Muller’s character is a strange mixture. The kindest-hearted man in + the world, he is a human bloodhound when once the lure of the trail has + caught him. He scarcely eats or sleeps when the chase is on, he does not + seem to know human weakness nor fatigue, in spite of his frail body. Once + put on a case his mind delves and delves until it finds a clue, then + something awakes within him, a spirit akin to that which holds the + bloodhound nose to trail, and he will accomplish the apparently + impossible, he will track down his victim when the entire machinery of a + great police department seems helpless to discover anything. The high + chiefs and commissioners grant a condescending permission when Muller + asks, “May I do this? ... or may I handle this case this way?” both + parties knowing all the while that it is a farce, and that the department + waits helpless until this humble little man saves its honour by solving + some problem before which its intricate machinery has stood dazed and + puzzled. + </p> + <p> + This call of the trail is something that is stronger than anything else in + Muller’s mentality, and now and then it brings him into conflict with the + department,... or with his own better nature. Sometimes his unerring + instinct discovers secrets in high places, secrets which the Police + Department is bidden to hush up and leave untouched. Muller is then taken + off the case, and left idle for a while if he persists in his opinion as + to the true facts. And at other times, Muller’s own warm heart gets him + into trouble. He will track down his victim, driven by the power in his + soul which is stronger than all volition; but when he has this victim in + the net, he will sometimes discover him to be a much finer, better man + than the other individual, whose wrong at this particular criminal’s hand + set in motion the machinery of justice. Several times that has happened to + Muller, and each time his heart got the better of his professional + instincts, of his practical common-sense, too, perhaps,... at least as far + as his own advancement was concerned, and he warned the victim, defeating + his own work. This peculiarity of Muller’s character caused his undoing at + last, his official undoing that is, and compelled his retirement from the + force. But his advice is often sought unofficially by the Department, and + to those who know, Muller’s hand can be seen in the unravelling of many a + famous case. + </p> + <p> + The following stories are but a few of the many interesting cases that + have come within the experience of this great detective. But they give a + fair portrayal of Muller’s peculiar method of working, his looking on + himself as merely an humble member of the Department, and the comedy of + his acting under “official orders” when the Department is in reality + following out his directions. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE CASE OF THE POCKET DIARY FOUND IN THE SNOW + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE. THE DISCOVERY IN THE SNOW + </h2> + <p> + A quiet winter evening had sunk down upon the great city. The clock in the + old clumsy church steeple of the factory district had not yet struck + eight, when the side door of one of the large buildings opened and a man + came out into the silent street. + </p> + <p> + It was Ludwig Amster, one of the working-men in the factory, starting on + his homeward way. It was not a pleasant road, this street along the edge + of the city. The town showed itself from its most disagreeable side here, + with malodorous factories, rickety tenements, untidy open stretches and + dumping grounds offensive both to eye and nostril. + </p> + <p> + Even by day the street that Amster took was empty; by night it was + absolutely quiet and dark, as dark as were the thoughts of the solitary + man. He walked along, brooding over his troubles. Scarcely an hour before + he had been discharged from the factory because of his refusal to submit + to the injustice of his foreman. + </p> + <p> + The yellow light of the few lanterns show nothing but high board walls and + snow drifts, stone heaps, and now and then the remains of a neglected + garden. Here and there a stunted tree or a wild shrub bent their twigs + under the white burden which the winter had laid upon them. Ludwig Amster, + who had walked this street for several years, knew his path so well that + he could take it blindfolded. The darkness did not worry him, but he + walked somewhat more slowly than usual, for he knew that under the thin + covering of fresh-fallen snow there lay the ice of the night before. He + walked carefully, watching for the slippery places. + </p> + <p> + He had been walking about half an hour, perhaps, when he came to a cross + street. Here he noticed the tracks of a wagon, the trace still quite + fresh, as the slowly falling flakes did not yet cover it. The tracks led + out towards the north, out on to the hilly, open fields. + </p> + <p> + Amster was somewhat astonished. It was very seldom that a carriage came + into this neighbourhood, and yet these narrow wheel-tracks could have been + made only by an equipage of that character. The heavy trucks which passed + these roads occasionally had much wider wheels. But Amster was to find + still more to astonish him. + </p> + <p> + In one corner near the cross-roads stood a solitary lamp-post. The light + of the lamp fell sharply on the snow, on the wagon tracks, and—on + something else besides. + </p> + <p> + Amster halted, bent down to look at it, and shook his head as if in doubt. + </p> + <p> + A number of small pieces of glass gleamed up at him and between them, like + tiny roses, red drops of blood shone on the white snow. All this was a few + steps to one side of the wagon tracks. + </p> + <p> + “What can have happened here—here in this weird spot, where a cry + for help would never be heard? where there would be no one to bring help?” + </p> + <p> + So Amster asked himself, but his discovery gave him no answer. His + curiosity was aroused, however, and he wished to know more. He followed up + the tracks and saw that the drops of blood led further on, although there + was no more glass. The drops could still be seen for a yard further, + reaching out almost to the board fence that edged the sidewalk. Through + the broken planks of this fence the rough bare twigs of a thorn bush + stretched their brown fingers. On the upper side of the few scattered + leaves there was snow, and blood. + </p> + <p> + Amster’s wide serious eyes soon found something else. Beside the bush + there lay a tiny package. He lifted it up. It was a small, light, square + package, wrapped in ordinary brown paper. Where the paper came together it + was fastened by two little lumps of black bread, which were still moist. + He turned the package over and shook his head again. On the other side was + written, in pencil, the lettering uncertain, as if scribbled in great + haste and in agitation, the sentence, “Please take this to the nearest + police station.” + </p> + <p> + The words were like a cry for help, frozen on to the ugly paper. Amster + shivered; he had a feeling that this was a matter of life and death. + </p> + <p> + The wagon tracks in the lonely street, the broken pieces of glass and the + drops of blood, showing that some occupant of the vehicle had broken the + window, in the hope of escape, perhaps, or to throw out the package which + should bring assistance—all these facts grouped themselves together + in the brain of the intelligent working-man to form some terrible tragedy + where his assistance, if given at once, might be of great use. He had a + warm heart besides, a heart that reached out to this unknown who was in + distress, and who threw out the call for help which had fallen into his + hands. + </p> + <p> + He waited no longer to ponder over the matter, but started off at a full + run for the nearest police station. He rushed into the room and told his + story breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + They took him into the next room, the office of the commissioner for the + day. The official in charge, who had been engaged in earnest conversation + with a small, frail-looking, middle-aged man, turned to Amster with a + question as to what brought him there. + </p> + <p> + “I found this package in the snow.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see it.” + </p> + <p> + Amster laid it on the table. The older man looked at it, and as the + commissioner was about to open it, he handed him a paper-knife with the + words: “You had better cut it open, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “It is best not to injure the seals that fasten a package.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you say, Muller,” answered the young commissioner, smiling. He + was still very young to hold such an office, but then he was the son of a + Cabinet Minister, and family connections had obtained this responsible + position for him so soon. Kurt von Mayringen was his name, and he was a + very good-looking young man, apparently a very good-natured young man + also, for he took this advice from a subordinate with a most charming + smile. He knew, however, that this quiet, pale-faced little man in the + shabby clothes was greater than he, and that it was mere accident of birth + that put him, Kurt von Mayringen, instead of Joseph Muller, in the + position of superior. + </p> + <p> + The young commissioner had had most careful advice from headquarters as to + Muller, and he treated the secret service detective, who was one of the + most expert and best known men in the profession, with the greatest + deference, for he knew that anything Muller might say could be only of + value to him with his very slight knowledge of his business. He took the + knife, therefore, and carefully cut open the paper, taking out a tiny + little notebook, on the outer side of which a handsome monogram gleamed up + at him in golden letters. + </p> + <p> + “A woman made this package,” said Muller, who had been looking at the + covering very carefully; “a blond woman.” + </p> + <p> + The other two looked at him in astonishment. He showed them a single blond + hair which had been in one of the bread seals. + </p> + <p> + “How I was murdered.” Those were the words that Commissioner von Mayringen + read aloud after he had hastily turned the first few pages of the + notebook, and had come to a place where the writing was heavily + underscored. + </p> + <p> + The commissioner and Amster were much astonished at these words, but the + detective still gazed quietly at the seals of the wrapping. + </p> + <p> + “This heading reads like insanity,” said the commissioner. Muller shrugged + his shoulders, then turned to Amster. “Where did you find the package?” + </p> + <p> + “In Garden street.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “About twenty minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + Amster gave a short and lucid account of his discovery. His intelligent + face and well-chosen words showed that he had observation and the power to + describe correctly what he had observed. His honest eyes inspired + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Where could they have been taking the woman?” asked the detective, more + of himself than of the others. + </p> + <p> + The commissioner searched hastily through the notebook for a signature, + but without success. “Why do you think it is a woman? This writing looks + more like a man’s hand to me. The letters are so heavy and—” + </p> + <p> + “That is only because they are written with broad pen,” interrupted + Muller, showing him the writing on the package; “here is the same hand, + but it is written with a fine hard pencil, and you can see distinctly that + this is a woman’s handwriting. And besides, the skin on a man’s thumb does + not show the fine markings that you can see here on these bits of bread + that have been used for seals.” + </p> + <p> + The commissioner rose from his seat. “You may be right, Muller. We will + take for granted, then, that there is a woman in trouble. It remains to be + seen whether she is insane or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that remains to be seen,” said Muller dryly, as he reached for his + overcoat. + </p> + <p> + “You are going before you read what is in the notebook?” asked + Commissioner von Mayringen. + </p> + <p> + Muller nodded. “I want to see the wagon tracks before they are lost; it + may help me to discover something else. You can read the book and make any + arrangements you find necessary after that.” + </p> + <p> + Muller was already wrapped in his overcoat. “Is it snowing now?” He turned + to Arnster. + </p> + <p> + “Some flakes were falling as I came here.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Come with me and show me the way.” Muller nodded carelessly to + his superior officer, his mind evidently already engrossed in thoughts of + the interesting case, and hurried out with Amster. The commissioner was + quite satisfied with the state of affairs. He knew the case was in safe + hands. He seated himself at his desk again and began to read the little + book which had come into his hands so strangely. His eyes ran more and + more rapidly over the closely written pages, as his interest grew and + grew. + </p> + <p> + When, half an hour later, he had finished the reading, he paced restlessly + up and down the room, trying to bring order into the thoughts that rushed + through his brain. And one thought came again and again, and would not be + denied in spite of many improbabilities, and many strange things with + which the book was full; in spite, also, of the varying, uncertain + handwriting and style of the message. This one thought was, “This woman is + not insane.” + </p> + <p> + While the young official was pondering over the problem, Muller entered as + quietly as ever, bowed, put his hat and cane in their places, and shook + the snow off his clothing. He was evidently pleased about something. Kurt + von Mayringen did not notice his entrance. He was again at the desk with + the open book before him, staring at the mysterious words, “How I was + murdered.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a woman, a lady of position. And if she is mad, then her madness + certainly has method.” Muller said these words in his usual quiet way, + almost indifferently. The young commissioner started up and snatched for + the fine white handkerchief which the detective handed him. A strong sweet + perfume filled the room. “It is hers?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “It is hers,” said Muller. “At least we can take that much for granted, + for the handkerchief bears the same monogram, A. L., which is on the + notebook.” + </p> + <p> + Commissioner von Mayringen rose from his chair in evident excitement. + “Well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + It was a short question, but full of meaning, and one could see that he + was waiting in great excitement for the answer. Muller reported what he + had discovered. The commissioner thought it little enough, and shrugged + his shoulders impatiently when the other had finished. + </p> + <p> + Muller noticed his chief’s dissatisfaction and smiled at it. He himself + was quite content with what he had found. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” murmured the commissioner, as if disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “That is all,” repeated the detective calmly, and added, “That is a good + deal. We have here a closely written notebook, the contents of which, + judging by your excitement, are evidently important. We have also a + handkerchief with an unusual perfume on it. I repeat that this is quite + considerable. Besides this, we have the seals, and we know several other + things. I believe that we can save this lady, or if it be too late, we can + avenge her at least.” + </p> + <p> + The commissioner looked at Muller in surprise. “We are in a city of more + than a million inhabitants,” he said, almost timidly. + </p> + <p> + “I have hunted criminals in two hemispheres, and I have found them,” said + Muller simply. The young commissioner smiled and held out his hand. “Ah, + yes, Muller—I keep forgetting the great things you have done. You + are so quiet about it.” + </p> + <p> + “What I have done is only what any one could do who has that particular + faculty. I do only what is in human power to do, and the cleverest + criminal can do no more. Besides which, we all know that every criminal + commits some stupidity, and leaves some trace behind him. If it is really + a crime which we have found the trace of here, we will soon discover it.” + Muller’s editorial “we” was a matter of formality. He might with more + truth have used the singular pronoun. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, do what you can,” said the commissioner with a friendly + smile. + </p> + <p> + The older man nodded, took the book and its wrappings from the desk, and + went into a small adjoining room. + </p> + <p> + The commissioner sent for an attendant and gave him the order to fetch a + pot of tea from a neighbouring saloon. When the tray arrived, he placed + several good cigars upon it, and sent it in to Muller. Taking a cigar + himself, the commissioner leaned back in his sofa corner to think over + this first interesting case of his short professional experience. That it + concerned a lady in distress made it all the more romantic. + </p> + <p> + In his little room the detective, put in good humour by the thoughtful + attention of his chief, sat down to read the book carefully. While he + studied its contents his mind went back over his search in the silent + street outside. + </p> + <p> + He and Amster had hurried out into the raw chill of the night, reaching + the spot of the first discovery in about ten or fifteen minutes. Muller + found nothing new there. But he was able to discover in which direction + the carriage had been going. The hoof marks of the single horse which had + drawn it were still plainly to be seen in the snow. + </p> + <p> + “Will you follow these tracks in the direction from which they have come?” + he asked of Amster. “Then meet me at the station and report what you have + seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” answered the workman. The two men parted with a hand + shake. + </p> + <p> + Before Muller started on to follow up the tracks in the other direction, + he took up one of the larger pieces’ of glass. “Cheap glass,” he said, + looking at it carefully. “It was only a hired cab, therefore, and a + one-horse cab at that.” + </p> + <p> + He walked on slowly, following the marks of the wheels. His eyes searched + the road from side to side, looking for any other signs that might have + been left by the hand which had thrown the package out of the window. The + snow, which had been falling softly thus far, began to come down in + heavier flakes, and Muller quickened his pace. The tracks would soon be + covered, but they could still be plainly seen. They led out into the open + country, but when the first little hill had been climbed a drift heaped + itself up, cutting off the trail completely. + </p> + <p> + Muller stood on the top of this knoll at a spot where the street divided. + Towards the right it led down into a factory suburb; towards the left the + road led on to a residence colony, and straight ahead the way was open, + between fields, pastures and farms, over moors, to another town of + considerable size lying beside a river. Muller knew all this, but his + knowledge of the locality was of little avail, for all traces of the + carriage wheels were lost. + </p> + <p> + He followed each one of the streets for a little distance, but to no + purpose. The wind blew the snow up in such heaps that it was quite + impossible to follow any trail under such conditions. + </p> + <p> + With an expression of impatience Muller gave up his search and turned to + go back again. He was hoping that Amster might have had better luck. It + was not possible to find the goal towards which the wagon had taken its + prisoner—if prisoner she was—as soon as they had hoped. + Perhaps the search must be made in the direction from which she had been + brought. + </p> + <p> + Muller turned back towards the city again. He walked more quickly now, but + his eyes took in everything to the right and to the left of his path. Near + the place where the street divided a bush waved its bare twigs in the + wind. The snow which had settled upon it early in the day had been blown + away by the freshening wind, and just as Muller neared the bush he saw + something white fluttering from one twig. It was a handkerchief, which had + probably hung heavy and lifeless when he had passed that way before. Now + when the wind held it out straight, he saw it at once. He loosened it + carefully from the thorny twigs. A delicate and rather unusual perfume + wafted up to his face. There was more of the odour on the little cloth + than is commonly used by people of good taste. And yet this handkerchief + was far too fine and delicate in texture to belong to the sort of people + who habitually passed along this street. It must have something to do with + the mysterious carriage. It was still quite dry, and in spite of the fact + that the wind had been playing with it, it had been but slightly torn. It + could therefore have been in that position for a short time only. At the + nearest lantern Muller saw that the monogram on the handkerchief was the + same in style and initials as that on the notebook. It was the letters A. + L. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO. THE STORY OF THE NOTEBOOK + </h2> + <p> + It was warm and comfortable in the little room where Muller sat. He closed + the windows, lit the gas, took off his overcoat—Muller was a + pedantically careful person—smoothed his hair and sat down + comfortably at the table. Just as he took up the little book, the + attendant brought the tea, which he proceeded at once to enjoy. He did not + take up his little book again until he had lit himself a cigar. He looked + at the cover of the dainty little notebook for many minutes before he + opened it. It was a couple of inches long, of the usual form, and had a + cover of brown leather. In the left upper corner were the letters A. L. in + gold. The leaves of the book, about fifty in all, were of a fine quality + of paper and covered with close writing. On the first leaves the writing + was fine and delicate, calm and orderly, but later on it was irregular and + uncertain, as if penned by a trembling hand under stress of terror. This + change came in the leaves of the book which followed the strange and + terrible title, “How I was murdered.” + </p> + <p> + Before Muller began to read he felt the covers of the book carefully. In + one of them there was a tiny pocket, in which he found a little piece of + wall paper of a noticeable and distinctly ugly pattern. The paper had a + dark blue ground with clumsy lines of gold on it. In the pocket he found + also a tramway ticket, which had been crushed and then carefully smoothed + out again. After looking at these papers, Muller replaced them in the + cover of the notebook. The book itself was strongly perfumed with the same + odour which had exhaled from the handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + The detective did not begin his reading in that part of the book which + followed the mysterious title, as the commissioner had done. He began + instead at the very first words. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! she is still young,” he murmured, when he had read the first lines. + “Young, in easy circumstances, happy and contented.” + </p> + <p> + These first pages told of pleasure trips, of visits from and to good + friends, of many little events of every-day life. Then came some accounts, + written in pencil, of shopping expeditions to the city. Costly laces and + jewels had been bought, and linen garments for children by the dozen. “She + is rich, generous, and charitable,” thought the detective, for the book + showed that the considerable sums which had been spent here had not been + for the writer herself. The laces bore the mark, “For our church”; behind + the account for the linen stood the words, “For the charity school.” + </p> + <p> + Muller began to feel a strong sympathy for the writer of these notices. + She showed an orderly, almost pedantic, character, mingled with generosity + of heart. He turned leaf after leaf until he finally came to the words, + written in intentionally heavy letters, “How I was murdered.” + </p> + <p> + Muller’s head sank down lower over these mysterious words, and his eyes + flew through the writing that followed. It was quite a different writing + here. The hand that penned these words must have trembled in deadly + terror. Was it terror of coming death, foreseen and not to be escaped? or + was it the trembling and the terror of an overthrown brain? It was + undoubtedly, in spite of the difference, the same hand that had penned the + first pages of the book. A few characteristic turns of the writing were + plainly to be seen in both parts of the story. But the ink was quite + different also. The first pages had been written with a delicate violet + ink, the later leaves were penned with a black ink of uneven quality, of + the kind used by poor people who write very seldom. The words of this + later portion of the book were blurred in many places, as if the writer + had not been able to dry them properly before she turned the leaves. She + therefore had had neither blotting paper nor sand at her disposal. + </p> + <p> + And then the weird title! + </p> + <p> + Was it written at the dictation of insanity? or did A. L. know, while she + wrote it, that it was too late for any help to reach her? Did she see her + doom approaching so clearly that she knew there was no escape? + </p> + <p> + Muller breathed a deep breath before he continued his reading. Later on + his breath came more quickly still, and he clinched his fist several + times, as if deeply moved. He was not a cold man, only thoroughly + self-controlled. In his breast there lived an unquenchable hatred of all + evil. It was this that awakened the talents which made him the celebrated + detective he had become. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that it will be impossible for any one to save me now, but perhaps + I may be avenged. Therefore I will write down here all that has happened + to me since I set out on my journey.” These were the first words that were + written under the mysterious title. Muller had just read them when the + commissioner entered. + </p> + <p> + “Will you speak to Amster; he has just returned?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Muller rose at once. “Certainly. Did you telegraph to all the railway + stations?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the commissioner, “and also to the other police stations.” + </p> + <p> + “And to the hospitals?—asylums?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not do that.” Commissioner von Mayringen blushed, a blush that + was as becoming to him as was his frank acknowledgment of his mistake. He + went out to remedy it at once, while Muller heard Amster’s short and not + particularly important report. The workingman was evidently shivering, and + the detective handed him a glass of tea with a good portion of rum in it. + </p> + <p> + “Here, drink this; you are cold. Are you ill?” Amster smiled sadly. “No, I + am not ill, but I was discharged to-day and am out of work now—that’s + almost as bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you married?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I have an old mother to support.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave your address with the commissioner. He may be able to find work for + you; we can always use good men here. But now drink your tea.” Amster + drank the glass in one gulp. “Well, now we have lost the trail in both + directions,” said Muller calmly. “But we will find it again. You can help, + as you are free now anyway. If you have the talent for that sort of thing, + you may find permanent work here.” + </p> + <p> + A gesture and a look from the workingman showed the detective that the + former did not think very highly of such occupation. Muller laid his hand + on the other’s shoulder and said gravely: “You wouldn’t care to take + service with us? This sort of thing doesn’t rate very high, I know. But I + tell you that if we have our hearts in the right place, and our brains are + worth anything, we are of more good to humanity than many an honest + citizen who wouldn’t shake hands with us. There—and now I am busy. + Goodnight.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Muller pushed the astonished man out of the room, shut + the door, and sat down again with his little book. This is what he read: + </p> + <p> + “Wednesday—is it Wednesday? They brought me a newspaper to-day which + had the date of Wednesday, the 20th of November. The ink still smells + fresh, but it is so damp here, the paper may have been older. I do not + know surely on what day it is that I begin to write this narrative. I do + not know either whether I may not have been ill for days and weeks; I do + not know what may have been the matter with me—I know only that I + was unconscious, and that when I came to myself again, I was here in this + gloomy room. Did any physician see me? I have seen no one until to-day + except the old woman, whose name I do not know and who has so little to + say. She is kind to me otherwise, but I am afraid of her hard face and of + the smile with which she answers all my questions and entreaties. ‘You are + ill.’ These are the only words that she has ever said to me, and she + pointed to her forehead as she spoke them. She thinks I am insane, + therefore, or pretends to think so. + </p> + <p> + “What a hoarse voice she has. She must be ill herself, for she coughs all + night long. I can hear it through the wall—she sleeps in the next + room. But I am not ill, that is I am not ill in the way she says. I have + no fever now, my pulse is calm and regular. I can remember everything, + until I took that drink of tea in the railway station. What could there + have been in that tea? I suppose I should have noticed how anxious my + travelling companion was to have me drink it. + </p> + <p> + “Who could the man have been? He was so polite, so fatherly in his anxiety + about me. I have not seen him since then. And yet I feel that it is he who + has brought me into this trap, a trap from which I may never escape alive. + I will describe him. He is very tall, stout and blond, and wears a long + heavy beard, which is slightly mixed with grey. On his right cheek his + beard only partly hides a long scar. His eyes are hidden by large smoked + glasses. His voice is low and gentle, his manners most correct—except + for his giving people poison or whatever else it was in that tea. + </p> + <p> + “I did not suffer any—at least I do not remember anything except + becoming unconscious. And I seem to have felt a pain like an iron ring + around my head. But I am not insane, and this fear that I feel does not + spring from my imagination, but from the real danger by which I am + surrounded. I am very hungry, but I do not dare to eat anything except + eggs, which cannot be tampered with. I tasted some soup yesterday, and it + seemed to me that it had a queer taste. I will eat nothing that is at all + suspicious. I will be in my full senses when my murderers come; they shall + not kill me by poison at least. + </p> + <p> + “When I came to my senses again—it was the evening of the day before + yesterday—I found a letter on the little table beside my bed. It was + written in French, in a handwriting that I had never seen before, and + there was no signature. + </p> + <p> + “This strange letter demanded of me that I should write to my guardian, + calmly and clearly, to say that for reasons which I did not intend to + reveal, I had taken my own life. If I did this my present place of sojourn + would be exchanged for a far more agreeable one, and I would soon be quite + free. But if I did not do it, I would actually be put to death. A pen, ink + and paper were ready there for the answer. + </p> + <p> + “‘Never,’ I wrote. And then despair came over me, and I may have indeed + appeared insane. The old woman came in. I entreated and implored her to + tell me why this dreadful fate should have overtaken me. She remained + quite indifferent and I sank back, almost fainting, on the bed. She laid a + moist cloth over my face, a cloth that had a peculiar odour. I soon fell + asleep. It seemed to me that there was some one else besides the woman in + the room with me. Or was she talking to herself? Next morning the letter + and my answer had disappeared. It was as I thought; there was some one + else in my room. Some one who had come on the tramway. I found the ticket + on the carpet beside my bed. I took it and put it in my notebook!!!!! + </p> + <p> + “I believe that it is Sunday to-day. It is four days now since I have been + conscious. The first sound that I remember hearing was the blast of a + horn. It must come from a factory very near me. The old windows in my room + rattle at the sound. I hear it mornings and evenings and at noon, on week + days. I did not hear it to-day, so it must be Sunday. It was Monday, the + 18th of November, that I set out on my trip, and reached here in the + evening—(here? I do not know where I am), that is, I set out for + Vienna, and I know that I reached the Northern Railway station there in + safety. + </p> + <p> + “I was cold and felt a little faint—and then he offered me the tea—and + what happened after that? Where am I? The paper that they gave me may have + been a day or two old or more. And to-day is Sunday—is it the first + Sunday since my departure from home? I do not know. I know only this, that + I set out on the 18th of November to visit my kind old guardian, and to + have a last consultation with him before my coming of age. And I know also + that I have fallen into the hands of some one who has an interest in my + disappearance. + </p> + <p> + “There is some one in the next room with the old woman. I hear a man’s + voice and they are quarrelling. They are talking of me. He wants her to do + something which she will not do. He commands her to go away, but she + refuses. What does he mean to do? I do not want her to leave me alone. I + do not hate her any more; I know that she is not bad. When I listened I + heard her speaking of me as of an insane person. She really believes that + I am ill. When the man went away he must have been angry. He stamped down + the stairs until the steps creaked under his tread: I know it is a wooden + staircase therefore. + </p> + <p> + “I am safe from him to-day, but I am really ill of fright. Am I really + insane? There is one thing that I have forgotten to write down. When I + first came to myself I found a bit of paper beside me on which was + written, ‘Beware of calling in help from outside. One scream will mean + death to you.’ It was written in French like the letter. Why? Was it + because the old woman could not read it? She knew of the piece of paper, + for she took it away from me. It frightens me that I should have forgotten + to write this down. Am I really ill? If I am not yet ill, this terrible + solitude will make me so. + </p> + <p> + “What a gloomy room this is, this prison of mine. And such a strange ugly + wall-paper. I tore off a tiny bit of it and hid it in this little book. + Some one may find it some day and may discover from it this place where I + am suffering, and where I shall die, perhaps. There cannot be many who + would buy such a pattern, and it must be possible to find the factory + where it was made. And I will also write down here what I can see from my + barred window. Far down below me there is a rusty tin roof, it looks like + as if it might belong to a sort of shed. In front and to the right there + are windowless walls; to the left, at a little distance, I can see a + slender church spire, greenish in colour, probably covered with copper, + and before the church there are two poplar trees of different heights. + </p> + <p> + “Another day has passed, a day of torturing fear! Am I really insane? I + know that I see queer things. This morning I looked towards the window and + I saw a parrot sitting there! I saw it quite plainly. It ruffled up its + red and green feathers and stared at me. I stared back at it and suddenly + it was gone. I shivered. Finally I pulled myself together and went to the + window. There was no bird outside nor was there a trace of any in the snow + on the window sill. Could the wind have blown away the tracks so soon, or + was it really my sick brain that appeared to see this tropical bird in the + midst of the snow? It is Tuesday to-day; from now on I will carefully + count the days—the days that still remain to me. + </p> + <p> + “This morning I asked the old woman about the parrot. She only smiled and + her smile made me terribly afraid. The thought that this thing which is + happening to me, this thing that I took to be a crime, may be only a + necessity—the thought fills me with horror! Am I in a prison? or is + this the cell of an insane asylum? Am I the victim of a villain? or am I + really mad? My pulse is quickening, but my memory is quite clear; I can + look back over every incident in my life. + </p> + <p> + “She has just taken away my food. I asked her to bring me only eggs as I + was afraid of everything else. She promised that she would do it. + </p> + <p> + “Are they looking for me? My guardian is Theodore Fellner, Cathedral Lane, + 14. My own name is Asta Langen. + </p> + <p> + “They took away my travelling bag, but they did not find this little book + and the tiny bottle of perfume which I had in the pocket of my dress. And + I found this old pen and a little ink in a drawer of the writing table in + my room. + </p> + <p> + “Wednesday. The stranger was here again to-day. I recognised his soft + voice. He spoke to the woman in the hall outside my room. I listened, but + I could catch only a few words. ‘To-morrow evening—I will come + myself—no responsibility for you.’ Were these words meant for me? + Are they going to take me away? Where will they take me? Then they do not + dare to kill me here? My head is burning hot. I have not dared to drink a + drop of liquid for four days. I dare not take anything into which they + might have put some drug or some poison. + </p> + <p> + “Who could have such an interest in my death? It cannot be because of the + fortune which is to be mine when I come of age; for if I die, my father + has willed it to various charitable institutions. I have no relatives, at + least none who could inherit my money. I had never harmed any one; who can + wish for my death? + </p> + <p> + “There is somebody with her, somebody was listening at the door. I have a + feeling as if I was being watched. And yet—I examined the door, but + there is no crack anywhere and the key is in the lock. Still I seem to + feel a burning glance resting on me. Ah! the parrot! is this another + delusion? Oh God, let it end soon! I am not yet quite insane, but all + these unknown dangers around me will drive me mad. I must fight against + them. + </p> + <p> + “Thursday. They brought me back my travelling bag. My attendant is uneasy. + She was longer in cleaning up the room than usual to-day. She seemed to + want to say something to me, and yet she did not dare to speak. Is + something to happen to-day then? I did not close my eyes all night. Can + one be made insane from a distance? hypnotised into it, as it were? I will + not allow fear alone to make me mad. My enemy shall not find it too easy. + He may kill my body, but that is all—” + </p> + <p> + These were the last words which Asta Langen had written in her notebook, + the little book which was the only confidant of her terrible need. When + the detective had finished reading it, he closed his eyes for a few + minutes to let the impression made by the story sink into his mind. + </p> + <p> + Then he rose and put on his overcoat. He entered the commissioner’s room + and took up his hat and cane. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going, Muller?” asked Herr Von Mayringen. + </p> + <p> + “To Cathedral Lane, if you will permit it.” + </p> + <p> + “At this hour? it is quarter past eleven! Is there any such hurry, do you + think? There is no train from any of our stations until morning. And I + have already sent a policeman to watch the house. Besides, I know that + Fellner is a highly respected man. + </p> + <p> + “There is many a man who is highly respected until he is found out,” + remarked the detective. + </p> + <p> + “And you are going to find out about Fellner?” smiled the commissioner. + “And this evening, too?” + </p> + <p> + “This very evening. If he is asleep I shall wake him up. That is the best + time to get at the truth about a man.” + </p> + <p> + The commissioner sat down at his desk and wrote out the necessary + credentials for the detective. A few moments later Muller was in the + street. He left the notebook with the commissioner. It was snowing + heavily, and an icy north wind was howling through the streets. Muller + turned up the collar of his coat and walked on quickly. It was just + striking a quarter to twelve when he reached Cathedral Lane. As he walked + slowly along the moonlit side of the pavement, a man stepped out of the + shadow to meet him. It was the policeman who had been sent to watch the + house. Like Muller, he wore plain clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” the latter asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing new. Mr. Fellner has been ill in bed several days, quite + seriously ill, they tell me. The janitor seems very fond of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Hm—we’ll see what sort of a man he is. You can go back to the + station now, you must be nearly frozen standing here.” + </p> + <p> + Muller looked carefully at the house which bore the number 14. It was a + handsome, old-fashioned building, a true patrician mansion which looked + worthy of all confidence. But Muller knew that the outside of a house has + very little to do with the honesty of the people who live in it. He rang + the bell carefully, as he wished no one but the janitor to hear him. + </p> + <p> + The latter did not seem at all surprised to find a stranger asking for the + owner of the house at so late an hour. “You come with a telegram, I + suppose? Come right up stairs then, I have orders to let you in.” + </p> + <p> + These were the words with which the old janitor greeted Muller. The + detective could see from this that Mr. Theodore Fellner’s conscience must + be perfectly clear. The expected telegram probably had something to do + with the non-appearance of Asta Langen, of whose terrible fate her + guardian evidently as yet knew nothing. The janitor knocked on one of the + doors, which was opened in a few moments by an old woman. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the telegram?” she asked sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the janitor. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Muller, “but I want to speak to Mr. Fellner.” + </p> + <p> + The two old people stared at him in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “To speak to him?” said the woman, and shook her head as if in doubt. “Is + it about Miss Langen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, please wake him.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is ill, and the doctor—” + </p> + <p> + “Please wake him up. I will take the responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + “But who are you?” asked the janitor. + </p> + <p> + Muller smiled a little at this belated caution on the part of the old man, + and answered. “I will tell Mr. Fellner who I am. But please announce me at + once. It concerns the young lady.” His expression was so grave that the + woman waited no longer, but let him in and then disappeared through + another door. The janitor stood and looked at Muller with half + distrustful, half anxious glances. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no good news you bring,” he said after a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + “You may be right.” + </p> + <p> + “Has anything happened to our dear young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know Miss Asta Langen and her family?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course. I was in service on the estate when all the dreadful + things happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What things?” + </p> + <p> + “Why the divorce—and—but you are a stranger and I shouldn’t + talk about these family affairs to you. You had better tell me what has + happened to our young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I must tell that to your master first.” + </p> + <p> + The woman came back at this moment and said to Muller, “Come with me, + please. Berner, you are to stay here until the gentleman goes out again.” + </p> + <p> + Muller followed her through several rooms into a large bed-chamber where + he found an elderly man, very evidently ill, lying in bed. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” asked the sick man, raising his head from the pillow. The + woman had gone out and closed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Muller, police detective. Here are my credentials.” + </p> + <p> + Fellner glanced hastily at the paper. “Why does the police send to me?” + </p> + <p> + “It concerns your ward.” + </p> + <p> + Fellner sat upright in bed now. He leaned over towards his visitor as he + said, pointing to a letter on the table beside his bed, “Asta’s overseer + writes me from her estate that she left home on the 18th of November to + visit me. She should have reached here on the evening of the 18th, and she + has not arrived yet. I did not receive this letter until to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you expect the young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew only that she would arrive sometime before the third of December. + That date is her twenty-fourth birthday and she was to celebrate it here.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she not usually announce her coming to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she liked to surprise me. Three days ago I sent her a telegram asking + her to bring certain necessary papers with her. This brought the answer + from the overseer of her estate, an answer which has caused me great + anxiety. Your coming makes it worse, for I fear—” The sick man broke + off and turned his eyes on Muller; eyes so full of fear and grief that the + detective’s heart grew soft. He felt Fellner’s icy hand on his as the sick + man murmured: “Tell me the truth! Is Asta dead?” + </p> + <p> + The detective shrugged his shoulders. “We do not know yet. She was alive + and able to send a message at half past eight this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “A message? To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “To the nearest police station.” Muller told the story as it had come to + him. + </p> + <p> + The old man listened with an expression of such utter dazed terror that + the detective dropped all suspicion of him at once. + </p> + <p> + “What a terrible riddle,” stammered the sick man as the other finished the + story. + </p> + <p> + “Would you answer me several questions?” asked Muller. The old gentleman + answered quickly, “Any one, every one.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Langen is rich?” + </p> + <p> + “She has a fortune of over three hundred thousand guldens, and + considerable land.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she any relatives?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Fellner harshly. But a thought must have flashed through his + brain for he started suddenly and murmured, “Yes, she has one relative, a + step-brother.” + </p> + <p> + The detective gave an exclamation of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you astonished at this?” asked Fellner. + </p> + <p> + “According to her notebook, the young lady does not seem to know of this + step-brother.” + </p> + <p> + “She does not know, sir. There was an ugly scandal in her family before + her birth. Her father turned his first wife and their son out of his house + on one and the same day. He had discovered that she was deceiving him, and + also that her son, who was studying medicine at the time, had stolen money + from his safe. What he had discovered about his wife made Langen doubt + whether the boy was his son at all. There was a terrible scene, and the + two disappeared from their home forever. The woman died soon after. The + young man went to Australia. He has never been heard of since and has + probably come to no good.” + </p> + <p> + “Might he not possibly be here in Europe again, watching for an + opportunity to make a fortune?” + </p> + <p> + Fellner’s hand grasped that of his visitor. The eyes of the two men gazed + steadily at each other. The old man’s glance was full of sudden helpless + horror, the detective’s eyes shone brilliantly. Muller spoke calmly: “This + is one clue. Is there no one else who could have an interest in the young + lady’s death?” + </p> + <p> + “No one but Egon Langen, if he bear this name by right, and if he is still + alive.” + </p> + <p> + “How old would he be now?” + </p> + <p> + “He must be nearly forty. It was many years before Langen married again.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him personally?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you a picture of Miss Langen?” + </p> + <p> + Fellner rang a bell and Berner appeared. “Give this gentleman Miss Asta’s + picture. Take the one in the silver frame on my desk;” the old gentleman’s + voice was friendly but faint with fatigue. His old servant looked at him + in deep anxiety. Fellner smiled weakly and nodded to the man. “Sad news, + Berner! Sad news and bad news. Our poor Asta is being held a prisoner by + some unknown villain who threatens her with death.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, is it possible? Can’t we help the poor young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “We will try to help her, or if it is—too late, we will at least + avenge her. My entire fortune shall be given up for it. But bring her + picture now.” + </p> + <p> + Berner brought the picture of a very pretty girl with a bright intelligent + face. Muller took the picture out of the frame and put it in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You will come again? soon? And remember, I will give ten thousand guldens + to the man who saves Asta, or avenges her. Tell the police to spare no + expense—I will go to headquarters myself to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Fellner was a little surprised that Muller, although he had already taken + up his hat, did not go. The sick man had seen the light flash up in the + eyes of the other as he named the sum. He thought he understood this + excitement, but it touched him unpleasantly and he sank back, almost + frightened, in his cushions as the detective bent over him with the words + “Good. Do not forget your promise, for I will save Miss Langen or avenge + her. But I do not want the money for myself. It is to go to those who have + been unjustly convicted and thus ruined for life. It may give the one or + the other of them a better chance for the future.” + </p> + <p> + “And you? what good do you get from that?” asked the old gentleman, + astonished. A soft smile illumined the detective’s plain features and he + answered gently, “I know then that there will be some poor fellow who will + have an easier time of it than I have had.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded to Fellner, who had already grasped his hand and pressed it + hard. A tear ran down his grey beard, and long after Muller had gone the + old gentleman lay pondering over his last words. + </p> + <p> + Berner led the visitor to the door. As he was opening it, Muller asked: + “Has Egon Langen a bad scar on his right cheek?” + </p> + <p> + Berner’s eyes looked his astonishment. How did the stranger know this? And + how did he come to mention this forgotten name. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has, but how did you know it?” he murmured in surprise. He + received no answer, for Muller was already walking quickly down the + street. The old man stared after him for some few minutes, then suddenly + his knees began to tremble. He closed the door with difficulty, and sank + down on a bench beside it. The wind had blown out the light of his + lantern; Berner was sitting in the dark without knowing it, for a sudden + terrible light had burst upon his soul, burst upon it so sharply that he + hid his eyes with his hands, and his old lips murmured, “Horrible! + Horrible! The brother against the sister.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning was clear and bright. Muller was up early, for he had + taken but a few hours sleep in one of the rooms of the station, before he + set out into the cold winter morning. At the next corner he found Amster + waiting for him. “What are you doing here?” he asked in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking over what you said to me yesterday. Your profession + is as good and perhaps better than many another.” + </p> + <p> + “And you come out here so early to tell me that?” + </p> + <p> + Amster smiled. “I have something else to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “The commissioner asked me yesterday if I knew of a church in the city + that had a slender spire with a green top and two poplars in front of it.” + </p> + <p> + Muller looked his interest. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it might possibly be the Convent Church of the Grey Sisters, + but I wasn’t quite sure, so I went there an hour ago. It’s all right, just + as I thought. And I suppose it has something to do with the case of last + night, so I thought I had better report at once. I was on my way to the + station.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do very well. You have saved us much time and you have shown + that you are eminently fitted for this business.” + </p> + <p> + “If you really will try me, then—” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll see. You can begin on this. Come to the church with me now.” Muller + was no talker, particularly not when, as now, his brain was busy on a + problem. + </p> + <p> + The two men walked on quickly. In about half an hour they found themselves + in a little square in the middle of which stood an old church. In front of + the church, like giant sentinels, stood a pair of tall poplars. One of + them looked sickly and was a good deal shorter than its neighbour. Muller + nodded as if content. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the church the commissioner was talking about?” queried Amster. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” was the answer. Muller walked on toward a little house built up + against the church, which was evidently the dwelling of the sexton. + </p> + <p> + The detective introduced himself to this official, who did not look + over-intelligent, as a stranger in the city who had been told that the + view from the tower of the church was particularly interesting. A bright + silver piece banished all distrust from the soul of the worthy man. With + great friendliness he inquired when the gentlemen would like to ascend the + tower. “At once,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + The sexton took a bunch of keys and told the strangers to follow him. A + few moments later Muller and his companion stood in the tiny belfry room + of the slender spire. The fat sexton, to his own great satisfaction, had + yielded to their request not to undertake the steep ascent. The cloudless + sky lay crystal clear over the still sleeping city and the wide spread + snow-covered fields which lay close at hand, beyond the church. On the one + side were gardens and the low rambling buildings of the convent, and on + the other were huddled high-piled dwellings of poverty. + </p> + <p> + Muller looked out of each of the four windows in turn. He spent some time + at each window, but evidently without discovering what he looked for, for + he shook his head in discontent. But when he went once more to the opening + in the East, into which the sun was just beginning to pour its light, + something seemed to attract his attention. He called Amster and pointed + from the window. “Your eyes are younger than mine, lend them to me. What + do you see over there to the right, below the tall factory chimney?” + Muller’s voice was calm, but there was something in his manner that + revealed excitement. Amster caught the infection without knowing why. He + looked sharply in the direction towards which Muller pointed, and began: + “There is a tall house near the chimney, to the right of it, one wall + touching it. The house is crowded in between other newer buildings, and + looks to be very old and of a much better sort than its neighbours. The + other houses are plain stone, but this house has carvings and statues on + it, which are white with snow. But the house is in bad condition, one can + see cracks in the wall.” + </p> + <p> + “And its windows?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot see them. They must be on the other side of the house, towards + the courtyard which seems to be hemmed in by the blank walls of the other + houses.” + </p> + <p> + “And at the front of the house?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a low wall in front which shuts off the courtyard from a narrow, + ill-kept street.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see it myself now. The street is bordered mainly by gardens and + vacant lots.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, that is it.” Muller nodded as if satisfied. Amster looked at + him in surprise, still more surprised, however, at the excitement he felt + himself. He did not understand it, but Muller understood it. He knew that + he had found in Amster a talent akin to his own, one of those natures who + once having taken up a trail cannot rest until they reach their goal. He + looked for a few moments in satisfaction at the assistant he had found by + such chance, then he turned and hastened down the stairs again. + </p> + <p> + “We’re going to that house?” asked Amster when they were down in the + street. Muller nodded. + </p> + <p> + Without hesitation the two men made their way through a tangle of dingy, + uninteresting alleys, between modern tenements, until about ten minutes + later they stood before an old three-storied building, which had a + frontage of four windows on the street. “This is our place,” said the + detective, looking up at the tall, handsome gateway and the rococo + carvings that ornamented the front of this decaying dwelling. It was very + evidently of a different age and class from those about it. + </p> + <p> + Muller had already raised his hand to pull the bell, when he stopped and + let it sink again. His eye caught sight of a placard pasted up on the wall + of the next house, and already half torn off by the wind. The detective + walked over, and raising the placard with his cane, read the words on it. + “That’s right,” he said to himself. Amster gave a look on the paper. But + he could not connect the contents of the notice with the case of the + kidnapped lady, and he shook his head in surprise when Muller turned to + him with the words: “The lady we are looking for is not insane.” On the + paper was announced in large letters that a reward would be offered to the + finder of a red and green parrot which had escaped from a neighbouring + house. + </p> + <p> + Muller rang the bell and they had to wait some few minutes before the door + opened with great creakings, and the towsled head of an old woman peered + out. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” she asked hoarsely, with distrustful looks. + </p> + <p> + “Let us in, and then give us the keys of the upstairs rooms.” Muller’s + voice was friendly, but the woman grew perceptibly paler. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” she stammered. Muller threw back his overcoat and showed + her his badge. “But there is nobody here, the house is quite empty.” + </p> + <p> + “There were a lady and gentleman here last evening.” The woman threw a + frightened look at Muller, then she said hesitatingly: “The lady was + insane and has been taken to an asylum.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what the man told you. He is a criminal and the police are + looking for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” murmured the woman. She seemed to understand that further + resistance was useless. She carefully locked the outside door. Amster + remained down stairs in the corridor, while Muller followed the old woman + up the stairs. The staircase to the third story was made of wood. The + house was evidently very old, with low ceilings and many dark corners. + </p> + <p> + The woman led Muller into the room in which she had cared for the strange + lady at the order of the latter’s “husband.” He had told her that it was + only until he could take the lady to an asylum. One look at the wall + paper, a glance out of the window, and Muller knew that this was where + Asta Langen had been imprisoned. He sat down on a chair and looked at the + woman, who stood frightened before him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where they have taken the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the gentleman’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. + </p> + <p> + “You did not send the lady’s name to the authorities?” * + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Any stranger taking rooms in a hotel or lodging house must + be registered with the police authorities by the proprietor + of the house within forty-eight hours of arrival. +</pre> + <p> + “Were you not afraid you would get into trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman paid me well, and I did not think that he meant anything + bad, and—and—” + </p> + <p> + “And you did not think that it would be found out?” said Muller sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I took good care of the lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we know that.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she escape from her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “He was not her husband. But now tell me all you know about these people; + the more truthful you are the better it will be for you.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman was so frightened that she could scarcely find strength to + talk. When she finally got control of herself again she began: “He came + here on the first of November and rented this room for himself. But he was + here only twice before he brought the lady and left her alone here. She + was very ill when he brought her here—so ill that he had to carry + her upstairs. I wanted to go for a doctor, but he said he was a doctor + himself, and that he could take care of his wife, who often had such + attacks. He gave me some medicine for her after I had put her to bed. I + gave her the drops, but it was a long while before she came to herself + again. + </p> + <p> + “Then he told me that she had lost her mind, and that she believed + everybody was trying to harm her. She was so bad that he was taking her to + an asylum. But he hadn’t found quite the right place yet, and wanted me to + keep her here until he knew where he could take her. Once he left a + revolver here by mistake. But I hid it so the lady wouldn’t see it, and + gave it to the gentleman the next time he came. He was angry at that, + though I couldn’t see why, and said I shouldn’t have touched it.” + </p> + <p> + The woman had told her story with much hesitation, and stopped altogether + at this point. She had evidently suddenly realised that the lady was not + insane, but only in great despair, and that people in such a state will + often seek death, particularly if any weapon is left conveniently within + their reach. + </p> + <p> + “What did this gentleman look like?” asked Muller, to start her talking + again. She described her tenant as very tall and stout with a long beard + slightly mixed with grey. She had never seen his eyes, for he wore smoked + glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice anything peculiar about his face?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing except that his beard was very heavy and almost covered his + face.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you see his cheeks at all?” + </p> + <p> + “No, or else I didn’t notice.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he leave nothing that might enable us to find him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, nothing. Or yes, perhaps, but I don’t suppose that will be any + good.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It gave him a good deal of trouble to get the lady into the wagon, + because she had fainted again. He lost his glove in doing it. I have it + down stairs in my room, for I sleep down stairs again since the lady has + gone.” + </p> + <p> + Muller had risen from his chair and walked over to the old writing desk + which stood beside one window. There were several sheets of ordinary brown + paper on it and sharp pointed pencil and also something not usually found + on writing desks, a piece of bread from which some of the inside had been + taken. “Everything as I expected it,” he said to himself. “The young lady + made up the package in the last few moments that she was left alone here.” + </p> + <p> + He turned again to the old woman and commanded her to lead him down + stairs. “What sort of a carriage was it in which they took the lady away?” + he asked as they went down. + </p> + <p> + “A closed coupe.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see the number?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. But the carriage was very shabby and so was the driver.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he an old man?” + </p> + <p> + “He was about forty years old, but he looked like a man who drank. He had + a light-coloured overcoat on.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Is this your room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + They were now in the lower corridor, where they found Amster walking up + and down. The woman opened the door of the little room, and took a glove + from a cupboard. Muller put it in his pocket and told the woman not to + leave the house for anything, as she might be sent for to come to the + police station at any moment. Then he went out into the street with + Amster. When they were outside in the sunlight, he looked at the glove. It + was a remarkably small size, made for a man with a slender, delicate hand, + not at all in accordance with the large stout body of the man described by + the landlady. Muller put his hand into the glove and found something + pushed up into the middle finger. He took it out and found that it was a + crumpled tramway ticket. + </p> + <p> + “Look out for a shabby old closed coupe, with a driver about forty years + old who looks like a drunkard and wears a light overcoat. If you find such + a cab, engage it and drive in it to the nearest police station. Tell them + there to hold the man until further notice. If the cab is not free, at + least take his number. And one thing more, but you will know that + yourself,—the cab we are looking for will have new glass in the + right-hand window.” Thus Muller spoke to his companion as he put the glove + into his pocket and unfolded the tramway ticket. Amster understood that + they had found the starting point of the drive of the night before. + </p> + <p> + “I will go to all coupe stands,” he said eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but we may be able to find it quicker than that.” Muller took the + little notebook, which he was now carrying in his pocket, and took from it + the tramway ticket which was in the cover. He compared it with the one he + had just found. They were both marked for the same hour of the day and for + the same ride. + </p> + <p> + “Did the man use them?” asked Amster. The detective nodded. “How can they + help us?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere on this stretch of the street railroad you will probably find + the stand of the cab we are looking for. The man who hired it evidently + arrived on the 6:30 train at the West Station—I have reason to + believe that he does not live here,—and then took the street car to + this corner. The last ticket is marked for yesterday. In the car he + probably made his plans to hire a cab. So you had better stay along the + line of the car tracks. You will find me in room seven, Police + Headquarters, at noon to-day. The authorities have already taken up the + case. You may have something to tell us then. Good luck to you.” + </p> + <p> + Muller hurried on, after he had taken a quick breakfast in a little cafe. + He went at once to headquarters, made his report there and then drove to + Fellner’s house. The latter was awaiting him with great impatience. There + the detective gathered much valuable information about the first marriage + of Asta Langen’s long-dead father. It was old Berner who could tell him + the most about these long-vanished days. + </p> + <p> + When he reached his office at headquarters again, he found telegrams in + great number awaiting him. They were from all the hospitals and insane + asylums in the entire district. But in none of them had there been a + patient fitting the description of the vanished girl. Neither the + commissioner nor Muller was surprised at this negative result. They were + also not surprised at all that the other branches of the police department + had been able to discover so little about the disappearance of the young + lady. They were aware that they had to deal with a criminal of great + ability who would be careful not to fall into the usual slips made by his + kind. + </p> + <p> + There was no news from the cab either, although several detectives were + out looking for it. It was almost nightfall when Amster ran breathlessly + into room number seven. “I have him! he’s waiting outside across the way!” + This was Amster’s report. + </p> + <p> + Muller threw on his coat hastily. “You didn’t pay him, did you? On a cold + day like this the drivers don’t like to wait long in any one place.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger. I haven’t money enough for that,” replied Amster with a sad + smile. Muller did not hear him as he was already outside. But the + commissioner with whom he had been talking and to whom Muller had already + spoken of his voluntary assistant, entered into a conversation with + Amster, and said to him finally: “I will take it upon myself to guarantee + your future, if you are ready to enter the secret service under Muller’s + orders. If you wish to do this you can stay right on now, for I think we + will need you in this case.” + </p> + <p> + Amster bowed in agreement. His life had been troubled, his reputation + darkened by no fault of his own, and the work he was doing now had + awakened an interest and an ability that he did not know he possessed. He + was more than glad to accept the offer made by the official. + </p> + <p> + Muller was already across the street and had laid his hand upon the door + of the cab when the driver turned to him and said crossly, “Some one else + has ordered me. But I am not going to wait in this cold, get in if you + want to.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Now tell me first where you drove to last evening with the + sick lady and her companion?” The man looked astonished but found his + tongue again in a moment. “And who are you?” he asked calmly. + </p> + <p> + “We will tell you that upstairs in the police station,” answered Muller + equally calmly, and ordered the man to drive through the gateway into the + inner courtyard. He himself got into the wagon, and in the course of the + short drive he had made a discovery. He had found a tiny glass stopper, + such as is used in perfume bottles. He could understand from this why the + odour of perfume which had now become familiar to him was still so strong + inside the old cab. Also why it was so strong on the delicate + handkerchief. Asta Langen had taken the stopper from the bottle in her + pocket, so as to leave a trail of odour behind her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE. THE LONELY COTTAGE + </h2> + <p> + Fifteen minutes after the driver had made his report to Commissioner Von + Mayringen, the latter with Amster entered another cab. A well-armed + policeman mounted the box of this second vehicle. “Follow that cab ahead,” + the commissioner told his driver. The second cab followed the one-horse + coupe in which Muller was seated. They drove first to No. 14 Cathedral + Lane, where Muller told Berner to come with him. He found Mr. Fellner + ready to go also, and it was with great difficulty that he could dissuade + the invalid, who was greatly fatigued by his morning visit to the police + station, from joining them. + </p> + <p> + The carriages then drove off more quickly than before. It was now quite + dark, a gloomy stormy winter evening. Muller had taken his place on the + box of his cab and sat peering out into the darkness. In spite of the + sharp wind and the ice that blew against his face the detective could see + that they were going out from the more closely built up portions of the + city, and were now in new streets with half-finished houses. Soon they + passed even these and were outside of the city. The way was lonely and + dreary, bordered by wooden fences on both sides. Muller looked sharply to + right and to left. + </p> + <p> + “You should have become alarmed here,” he said to the driver, pointing to + one part of the fence. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked the man. + </p> + <p> + “Because this is where the window was broken.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t know that—until I got home.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m; you must have been nicely drunk.” + </p> + <p> + The driver murmured something in his beard. + </p> + <p> + “Stop here, this is your turn, down that street,” Muller said a few + moments later, as the driver turned the other way. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” asked the man, surprised. + </p> + <p> + “None of your business.” + </p> + <p> + “This street will take us there just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably, but I prefer to go the way you went yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, it’s all the same to me.” They were silent again, only the + wind roared around them, and somewhere in the distance a fog horn moaned. + </p> + <p> + It was now six o’clock. The snow threw out a mild light which could not + brighten the deep darkness around them. About half an hour later the first + cab halted. “There’s the house up there. Shall I drive to the garden + gate?” + </p> + <p> + “No, stop here.” Muller was already on the ground. “Are there any dogs + here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t hear any yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s of no value. You didn’t seem to hear much of anything yesterday.” + Muller opened the door of the cab and helped Berner out. The old man was + trembling. “That was a dreadful drive!” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will be happier on the drive back,” said the detective and + added, “You stay here with the commissioner now.” + </p> + <p> + The latter had already left his cab with his companion. His sharp eyes + glanced over the heavily shaded garden and the little house in its midst. + A little light shone from two windows of the first story. The men’s eyes + looked toward them, then the detective and Amster walked toward a high + picket fence which closed the garden on the side nearest its neighbours. + They shook the various pickets without much caution, for the wind made + noise enough to kill any other sound. Amster called to Muller, he had + found a loose picket, and his strong young arms had torn it out easily. + Muller motioned to the other three to join them. A moment later they were + all in the garden, walking carefully toward the house. + </p> + <p> + The door was closed but there were no bars at the windows of the ground + floor. Amster looked inquiringly at the commissioner and the latter nodded + and said, “All right, go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + The next minute Amster had broken in through one pane of the window and + turned the latch. The inner window was broken already so that it was not + difficult for him to open it without any further noise. He disappeared + into the dark room within. In a few seconds they heard a key turn in the + door and it opened gently. The men entered, all except the policeman, who + remained outside. The blind of his lantern was slightly opened, and he had + his revolver ready in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Muller had opened his lantern also, and they saw that they were in a + prettily furnished corridor from which the staircase and one door led out. + </p> + <p> + The four men tiptoed up the stairway and the commissioner stepped to the + first of the two doors which opened onto the upper corridor. He turned the + key which was in the lock, and opened the door, but they found themselves + in a room as dark as was the corridor. From somewhere, however, a ray of + light fell into the blackness. The official stepped into the room, pulling + Berner in after him. The poor old man was in a state of trembling + excitement when he found himself in the house where his beloved young lady + might already be a corpse. One step more and a smothered cry broke from + his lips. The commissioner had opened the door of an adjoining room, which + was lighted and handsomely furnished. Only the heavy iron bars across the + closed windows showed that the young lady who sat leaning back wearily in + an arm-chair was a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + She looked up as they entered. The expression of utter despair and deep + weariness which had rested on her pale face changed to a look of terror; + then she saw that it was not her would-be murderer who was entering, but + those who came to rescue. A bright flush illumined her cheeks and her eyes + gleamed. But the change was too sudden for her tortured soul. She rose + from her chair, then sank fainting to the floor. + </p> + <p> + Berner threw himself on his knees beside her, sobbing out, “She is dying! + She is dying!” + </p> + <p> + Muller turned on the instant, for he had heard the door on the other side + of the hall open, and a tall slender man with a smooth face and a deep + scar on his right cheek stood on the threshold looking at them in dazed + surprise. For an instant only had he lost his control. The next second he + was in his room again, slamming the door behind him. But it was too late. + Amster’s foot was already in the crack of the door and he pushed it open + to let Muller enter. “Well done,” cried the latter, and then he turned to + the man in the room. “Here, stop that. I can fire twice before you get the + window open.” + </p> + <p> + The man turned and walked slowly to the centre of the room, sinking down + into an arm-chair that stood beside the desk. Neither Amster nor Muller + turned their eyes from him for a moment, ready for any attempt on his part + to escape. But the detective had already seen something that told him that + Langen was not thinking of flight. When he turned to the desk, Muller had + seen his eyes glisten while a scornful smile parted his thin lips. A + second later he had let his handkerchief fall, apparently carelessly, upon + the desk. But in this short space of time the detective’s sharp eyes had + seen a tiny bottle upon which was a black label with a grinning skull. + Muller could not see whether the bottle was full or empty, but now he knew + that it must hold sufficient poison to enable the captured criminal to + escape open disgrace. Knowing this, Muller looked with admiration at the + calmness of the villain, whose intelligent eyes were turned towards him in + evident curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you and who else is here with you?” asked the man calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I am Muller of the Secret Service,” replied his visitor and added, “You + must put up with us for the time being, Mr. Egon Langen. The police + commissioner is occupied with your step-sister, whom you were about to + murder.” + </p> + <p> + Langen put his hand to his cheek, looking at Muller between his lashes as + he said, “To murder? Who can prove that?” + </p> + <p> + “We have all the proofs we need.” + </p> + <p> + “I will acknowledge only that I wanted Asta to disappear.” + </p> + <p> + Muller smiled. “What good would that have done you? You wanted her entire + fortune, did you not? But that could have come to you only after thirty + years, and you are not likely to have waited that long. Your plan was to + murder your step-sister, even if you could not get a letter from her + telling of her intention to commit suicide.” + </p> + <p> + Langen rose suddenly, but controlled himself again and sank back easily in + his chair. “Then the old woman has been talking?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Muller shook his head. “We knew it through Miss Langen herself.” + </p> + <p> + “She has spoken to no one for over ten days.” + </p> + <p> + “But you let her throw her notebook out of the window of the cab.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—” + </p> + <p> + “There, you see, you should not have let that happen.” + </p> + <p> + Drops of perspiration stood out on Langen’s forehead. Until now, perhaps, + he had had some possible hope of escape. It was useless now, he knew. + </p> + <p> + As calmly as he had spoken thus far Muller continued. “For twenty years I + have been studying the hearts of criminals like yourself. But there are + things I do not understand about this case and it interests me very much.” + </p> + <p> + Langen had wiped the drops from his forehead and he now turned on Muller a + face that seemed made of bronze. There was but one expression on it, that + of cold scorn. + </p> + <p> + “I feel greatly flattered, sir, to think that I can offer a problem to one + of your experience,” Langen began. His voice, which had been slightly + veiled before, was now quite clear. “Ask me all you like. I will answer + you.” + </p> + <p> + Muller began: “Why did you wait so long before committing the murder? and + why did you drag your victim from place to place when you could have + killed her easily in the compartment of the railway train?” + </p> + <p> + “The windows of the compartment were open, my honoured friend, and it was + a fine warm evening for the season, because of which the windows in the + other compartment were also open. There was nothing else I could do at + that time then, except to offer Asta a cup of tea when she felt a little + faint upon leaving the train. I am a physician and I know how to use the + right drugs at the right time. When Asta had taken the tea, she knew + nothing more until she woke up a day later in a room in the city.” + </p> + <p> + “And the piece of paper with the threat on it? and the revolver you left + so handy for her? oh, but I forgot, the old woman took the weapon away + before the lady could use it in her despair,” said Muller. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right. I see you know every detail.” + </p> + <p> + “But why didn’t you complete your crime in the room in the old house?” + persisted Muller. + </p> + <p> + “Because I lost my false beard one day upon the staircase, and I feared + the old woman might have seen my face enough to recognise me again. I + thought it better to look for another place.” + </p> + <p> + “And then you found this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but several days later.” + </p> + <p> + “And you hired it in the name of Miss Asta Langen? Who would then have + been found dead here several days after you had entered the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Several days, several weeks perhaps. I preferred to wait until the woman + who rented the house had read in the papers that Asta Langen had + disappeared and was being sought for. Somebody would have found her here, + and her identity would have easily been established, for I knew that she + had some important family documents with her.” + </p> + <p> + Muller was silent a moment, with an expression of deep pity on his face. + Then he continued: “Yes, someone would have found her, and her suicide + would have been a dark mystery, unless, of course, malicious tongues would + have found ugly reasons enough why a beautiful young lady should hide + herself in a lonely cottage to take her own life.” + </p> + <p> + Muller had spoken as if to himself. Egon Langen’s lips, parted in a smile + so evil that Amster clenched his fists. + </p> + <p> + “And you would not have regretted this ruining the reputation as well as + taking the life of an innocent girl?” asked the detective low and tense. + </p> + <p> + “No, for I hated her.” + </p> + <p> + “You hated her because she was rich and innocent. She was very charitable + and would gladly have helped you if you were in need. Beside this, you + were entitled to a portion of your father’s estate. It is almost thirty + thousand guldens, as Mr. Fellner tells me. Why did you not take that?” + </p> + <p> + “Fellner did not know that I had already received twenty thousand of this + when my father turned me out. He probably would have heard of it later, + for Berner was the witness. I did not care for the remaining ten thousand + because I would have the entire fortune after Asta’s death. I would have + seen the official notice and the call for heirs in Australia, and would + have written from there, announcing that I was still alive. If you had + come several days later I should have been a rich man within a year.” + </p> + <p> + His clenched fist resting on his knee, the rascal stared out ahead of him + when he ended his shameless confession. In his rage and disappointment he + had not noticed that Muller’s hand dropped gently to the desk and softly + took a little bottle from under the handkerchief. Langen came out of his + dark thoughts only when Muller’s voice broke the silence. “But you + miscalculated, if you expected to inherit from your sister. She is still a + minor and your father’s will would have given you only ten thousand + guldens. + </p> + <p> + “But you forget that Asta will be twenty-four on the third of December.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then you would have kept her alive until then.” + </p> + <p> + “You understand quickly,” said Langen with a mocking smile. + </p> + <p> + “But she disappeared on the eighteenth of November. How could you prove + that she died after her birthday, therefore in full possession of her + fortune and without leaving any will?” + </p> + <p> + “That is very simple. I buy several newspapers every day. I would have + taken them up to the fourth and fifth of December and left them here with + the body.” + </p> + <p> + “You are more clever even than I thought,” said the detective dryly as he + heard the commissioner’s steps behind him. Muller put a whistle to his + lips and its shrill tone ran through the house, calling up the policeman + who stood by the door. + </p> + <p> + Egon Langen’s face was grey with pallor, his features were distorted, and + yet there was the ghost of a smile on his lips as he saw his captors enter + the door. He put his hand out, raised his handkerchief hastily and then a + wild scream echoed through the room, a scream that ended in a ghastly + groan. + </p> + <p> + “I have taken your bottle, you might as well give yourself up quietly,” + said Muller calmly, holding his revolver near Langen’s face. The prisoner + threw himself at the detective but was caught and overpowered by Amster + and the policeman. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the cabs drove back toward the city. Inside one + cowered Egon Langen, watched by the policeman and Amster. Berner was on + the box beside the driver, telling the now interested man the story of + what had happened to his dear young lady. In the other cab sat Asta Langen + with Kurt von Mayringen and Muller. + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel better now?” asked the young commissioner in sincere sympathy + that was mingled with admiration for the delicate beauty of the girl + beside him, an admiration heightened by her romantic story and marvelous + escape. + </p> + <p> + Asta nodded and answered gently: “I feel as if some terrible weight were + lifted from my heart and brain. But I doubt if I will ever forget these + horrible days, when I had already come to accept it as a fact that—that + I was to be murdered.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the man to whom you owe your escape,” said the commissioner, + laying his hand on Muller’s knee. Asta did not speak, but she reached out + in the darkness of the cab, caught Muller’s hand and would have raised it + to her lips, had not the little man drawn it away hastily. “It was only my + duty, dear young lady,” he said. “A duty that is not onerous when it means + the rescue of innocence and the preventing of crime. It is not always so, + unfortunately—nor am I always so fortunate as in this case.” + </p> + <p> + This indeed is what Muller calls a “case with a happy ending,” for + scarcely a year later, to his own great embarrassment, he found himself + the most honoured guest, and a centre of attraction equally with the + bridal couple, at the marriage of Kurt von Mayringen and Asta Langen. + Muller asserts, however, that he is not a success in society, and that he + would rather unravel fifty difficult cases than again be the “lion” at a + fashionable function. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Case of The Pocket Diary Found in +the Snow, by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POCKET DIARY *** + +***** This file should be named 1834-h.htm or 1834-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/1834/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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