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+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
+
+Posting Date: October 29, 2008 [EBook #1834]
+Release Date: July, 1999
+[Last updated: November 13, 2015]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POCKET DIARY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CASE OF THE POCKET DIARY FOUND IN THE SNOW
+
+By Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO JOE MULLER
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+THE CASE OF THE POCKET DIARY FOUND IN THE SNOW
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE. THE DISCOVERY IN THE SNOW
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Amster halted, bent down to look at it, and shook his head as if in
+doubt.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I found this package in the snow."
+
+"Let me see it."
+
+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."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It is best not to injure the seals that fasten a package."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"A woman made this package," said Muller, who had been looking at the
+covering very carefully; "a blond woman."
+
+The other two looked at him in astonishment. He showed them a single
+blond hair which had been in one of the bread seals.
+
+"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.
+
+The commissioner and Amster were much astonished at these words, but the
+detective still gazed quietly at the seals of the wrapping.
+
+"This heading reads like insanity," said the commissioner. Muller
+shrugged his shoulders, then turned to Amster. "Where did you find the
+package?"
+
+"In Garden street."
+
+"When?"
+
+"About twenty minutes ago."
+
+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.
+
+"Where could they have been taking the woman?" asked the detective, more
+of himself than of the others.
+
+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--"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"Yes, that remains to be seen," said Muller dryly, as he reached for his
+overcoat.
+
+"You are going before you read what is in the notebook?" asked
+Commissioner von Mayringen.
+
+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."
+
+Muller was already wrapped in his overcoat. "Is it snowing now?" He
+turned to Arnster.
+
+"Some flakes were falling as I came here."
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Commissioner von Mayringen rose from his chair in evident excitement.
+"Well?" he asked.
+
+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.
+
+Muller noticed his chief's dissatisfaction and smiled at it. He himself
+was quite content with what he had found.
+
+"Is that all?" murmured the commissioner, as if disappointed.
+
+"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."
+
+The commissioner looked at Muller in surprise. "We are in a city of more
+than a million inhabitants," he said, almost timidly.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Very well, then, do what you can," said the commissioner with a
+friendly smile.
+
+The older man nodded, took the book and its wrappings from the desk, and
+went into a small adjoining room.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Very well, sir," answered the workman. The two men parted with a hand
+shake.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO. THE STORY OF THE NOTEBOOK
+
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Ah! she is still young," he murmured, when he had read the first lines.
+"Young, in easy circumstances, happy and contented."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+And then the weird title!
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Will you speak to Amster; he has just returned?" he asked.
+
+Muller rose at once. "Certainly. Did you telegraph to all the railway
+stations?"
+
+"Yes," answered the commissioner, "and also to the other police
+stations."
+
+"And to the hospitals?--asylums?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Are you married?"
+
+"No, but I have an old mother to support."
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"'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!!!!!
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Are they looking for me? My guardian is Theodore Fellner, Cathedral
+Lane, 14. My own name is Asta Langen.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+Then he rose and put on his overcoat. He entered the commissioner's room
+and took up his hat and cane.
+
+"Where are you going, Muller?" asked Herr Von Mayringen.
+
+"To Cathedral Lane, if you will permit it."
+
+"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.
+
+"There is many a man who is highly respected until he is found out,"
+remarked the detective.
+
+"And you are going to find out about Fellner?" smiled the commissioner.
+"And this evening, too?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Well?" the latter asked.
+
+"Nothing new. Mr. Fellner has been ill in bed several days, quite
+seriously ill, they tell me. The janitor seems very fond of him."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Is it the telegram?" she asked sleepily.
+
+"Yes," said the janitor.
+
+"No," said Muller, "but I want to speak to Mr. Fellner."
+
+The two old people stared at him in surprise.
+
+"To speak to him?" said the woman, and shook her head as if in doubt.
+"Is it about Miss Langen?"
+
+"Yes, please wake him."
+
+"But he is ill, and the doctor--"
+
+"Please wake him up. I will take the responsibility."
+
+"But who are you?" asked the janitor.
+
+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.
+
+"It's no good news you bring," he said after a few minutes.
+
+"You may be right."
+
+"Has anything happened to our dear young lady?"
+
+"Then you know Miss Asta Langen and her family?"
+
+"Why, of course. I was in service on the estate when all the dreadful
+things happened."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I must tell that to your master first."
+
+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."
+
+Muller followed her through several rooms into a large bed-chamber where
+he found an elderly man, very evidently ill, lying in bed.
+
+"Who are you?" asked the sick man, raising his head from the pillow. The
+woman had gone out and closed the door behind her.
+
+"My name is Muller, police detective. Here are my credentials."
+
+Fellner glanced hastily at the paper. "Why does the police send to me?"
+
+"It concerns your ward."
+
+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."
+
+"Did you expect the young lady?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Did she not usually announce her coming to you?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+"A message? To whom?"
+
+"To the nearest police station." Muller told the story as it had come to
+him.
+
+The old man listened with an expression of such utter dazed terror that
+the detective dropped all suspicion of him at once.
+
+"What a terrible riddle," stammered the sick man as the other finished
+the story.
+
+"Would you answer me several questions?" asked Muller. The old gentleman
+answered quickly, "Any one, every one."
+
+"Miss Langen is rich?"
+
+"She has a fortune of over three hundred thousand guldens, and
+considerable land."
+
+"Has she any relatives?"
+
+"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."
+
+The detective gave an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"Why are you astonished at this?" asked Fellner.
+
+"According to her notebook, the young lady does not seem to know of this
+step-brother."
+
+"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."
+
+"Might he not possibly be here in Europe again, watching for an
+opportunity to make a fortune?"
+
+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?"
+
+"No one but Egon Langen, if he bear this name by right, and if he is
+still alive."
+
+"How old would he be now?"
+
+"He must be nearly forty. It was many years before Langen married
+again."
+
+"Do you know him personally?"
+
+"Have you a picture of Miss Langen?"
+
+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."
+
+"My God, is it possible? Can't we help the poor young lady?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Berner led the visitor to the door. As he was opening it, Muller asked:
+"Has Egon Langen a bad scar on his right cheek?"
+
+Berner's eyes looked his astonishment. How did the stranger know this?
+And how did he come to mention this forgotten name.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I have been thinking over what you said to me yesterday. Your profession
+is as good and perhaps better than many another."
+
+"And you come out here so early to tell me that?"
+
+Amster smiled. "I have something else to say."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"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."
+
+Muller looked his interest.
+
+"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."
+
+"That will do very well. You have saved us much time and you have shown
+that you are eminently fitted for this business."
+
+"If you really will try me, then--"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Is this the church the commissioner was talking about?" queried Amster.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"And its windows?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And at the front of the house?"
+
+"There is a low wall in front which shuts off the courtyard from a
+narrow, ill-kept street."
+
+"Yes, I see it myself now. The street is bordered mainly by gardens and
+vacant lots."
+
+"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.
+
+"We're going to that house?" asked Amster when they were down in the
+street. Muller nodded.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked hoarsely, with distrustful looks.
+
+"Let us in, and then give us the keys of the upstairs rooms." Muller's
+voice was friendly, but the woman grew perceptibly paler.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"That is what the man told you. He is a criminal and the police are
+looking for him."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Do you know where they have taken the lady?"
+
+"No, sir.
+
+"Do you know the gentleman's name?"
+
+"No, sir.
+
+"You did not send the lady's name to the authorities?" *
+
+"No, sir."
+
+     * 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.
+
+"Were you not afraid you would get into trouble?"
+
+"The gentleman paid me well, and I did not think that he meant anything
+bad, and--and--"
+
+"And you did not think that it would be found out?" said Muller sternly.
+
+
+"I took good care of the lady."
+
+"Yes, we know that."
+
+"Did she escape from her husband?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Did you notice anything peculiar about his face?"
+
+"No, nothing except that his beard was very heavy and almost covered his
+face."
+
+"Could you see his cheeks at all?"
+
+"No, or else I didn't notice."
+
+"Did he leave nothing that might enable us to find him?"
+
+"No, sir, nothing. Or yes, perhaps, but I don't suppose that will be any
+good."
+
+"What was it? What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"A closed coupe."
+
+"Did you see the number?"
+
+"No, sir. But the carriage was very shabby and so was the driver."
+
+"Was he an old man?"
+
+"He was about forty years old, but he looked like a man who drank. He
+had a light-coloured overcoat on."
+
+"Good. Is this your room?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"I will go to all coupe stands," he said eagerly.
+
+"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.
+
+"Did the man use them?" asked Amster. The detective nodded. "How can
+they help us?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE. THE LONELY COTTAGE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You should have become alarmed here," he said to the driver, pointing
+to one part of the fence.
+
+"Why?" asked the man.
+
+"Because this is where the window was broken."
+
+"I didn't know that--until I got home."
+
+"H'm; you must have been nicely drunk."
+
+The driver murmured something in his beard.
+
+"Stop here, this is your turn, down that street," Muller said a few
+moments later, as the driver turned the other way.
+
+"How do you know that?" asked the man, surprised.
+
+"None of your business."
+
+"This street will take us there just the same."
+
+"Probably, but I prefer to go the way you went yesterday."
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+"No, stop here." Muller was already on the ground. "Are there any dogs
+here?" he asked.
+
+"I didn't hear any yesterday."
+
+"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.
+
+"I hope you will be happier on the drive back," said the detective and
+added, "You stay here with the commissioner now."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Berner threw himself on his knees beside her, sobbing out, "She is
+dying! She is dying!"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Who are you and who else is here with you?" asked the man calmly.
+
+"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."
+
+Langen put his hand to his cheek, looking at Muller between his lashes
+as he said, "To murder? Who can prove that?"
+
+"We have all the proofs we need."
+
+"I will acknowledge only that I wanted Asta to disappear."
+
+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."
+
+Langen rose suddenly, but controlled himself again and sank back easily
+in his chair. "Then the old woman has been talking?" he asked.
+
+Muller shook his head. "We knew it through Miss Langen herself."
+
+"She has spoken to no one for over ten days."
+
+"But you let her throw her notebook out of the window of the cab."
+
+"Ah--"
+
+"There, you see, you should not have let that happen."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Quite right. I see you know every detail."
+
+"But why didn't you complete your crime in the room in the old house?"
+persisted Muller.
+
+"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."
+
+"And then you found this house."
+
+"Yes, but several days later."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+Muller had spoken as if to himself. Egon Langen's lips, parted in a
+smile so evil that Amster clenched his fists.
+
+"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.
+
+"No, for I hated her."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"But you forget that Asta will be twenty-four on the third of December."
+
+"Ah, then you would have kept her alive until then."
+
+"You understand quickly," said Langen with a mocking smile.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+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 ***
+
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