death," theyoung man remarked,
"Do you buy things like that?" Nanette turned to the peddler.
"I'd just like to look at them first, if you'll let me."
"I'd be glad to get rid of them. But I won't go upstairs, I'm afraidthere."
"Well, I'll get the things for you if you want me to," offered Georgeand turned to leave the room. The door had scarcely closed behind himwhen a change came over the peddler. His old head rose from its droopingposition, his bowed figure started up with youthful elasticity.
"Are you really fond of him?" he asked of the astonished Nanette, whostepped back a pace, stammering in answer: "Yes. Why do you ask? and whoare you?"
"Never mind that, my dear child, but just answer the questions I have toask, and answer truthfully, or it might occur to me to let your Georgeknow that he is not the first man you have loved."
"What do you know?" she breathed in alarm.
The peddler laughed. "Oho, then he's jealous! All the better for me--theCouncillor was jealous too, wasn't he?" Nanette looked at him in horror.
"The truth, therefore, you must tell me the truth, and get the othersaway, so I can speak to you alone. You must do this--or else I'll tellGeorge about the handsome carpenter in Church street, or about FranzSchmid, or--"
"For God's sake, stop--stop--I'll do anything you say."
The girl sank back on her chair pale and trembling, while the peddlerresumed his pose of a tired old man leaning against the stove. WhenGeorge returned with a large basket, Nanette had calmed herselfsufficiently to go about the unpacking of the articles in the hamper.
"George, won't you please keep Lena out in the kitchen. Ask her to makesome tea for us," asked Nanette with well feigned assurance. Georgesmiled a meaning smile and disappeared.
"I am particularly interested in the dead lady's gloves," said thepeddler when they were alone again.
Nanette looked at him in surprise but was still too frightened to offerany remarks. She opened several boxes and packages and laid a number ofpairs of gloves on the table. The old man looked through them, turningthem over carefully. Then he shook his head: "There must be some moresomewhere," he said. Nanette was no longer astonished at anything hemight say or do, so she obediently went through the basket again andfound a little box in which were several pair of grey suede gloves,fastened by bluish mother-of-pearl buttons. One of the pairs had beenworn, and a button was missing.
"These are the ones I was looking for," said the peddler, putting thegloves in his pocket. Then he continued: "Your mistress was rather fondof taking long walks by herself, wasn't she?"
The girl's pale face flushed hotly and she stammered: "You know--aboutit?"
"You know about it also, I see. And did you know everything?"
"Yes, everything," murmured Nanette.
"Then it was you and Tristan who accompanied the lady on her walks?"
"Yes."
"I supposed she must have taken some one into her confidence. Well, andwhat do you think about the murder?"
"The Professor?" replied Nanette hastily. "Why, what should I know aboutit?"
"The Councillor was greatly excited and very unhappy when he discoveredthis affair, I suppose?"
"He is still."
"And how did he act after the--let us call it the accident?"
"He was like a crazy man."
"They tell me that he went about his duties just the same--that he wentaway on business."
"It wasn't business this time, at least not professional business. Butbefore that he did have to go away frequently for weeks at a time."
"And it was then that your mistress was most interested in her lonelywalks, eh?"
"Yes." Nanette's voice was so low as to be scarcely heard.
"Well, and this time?" continued the peddler. "Why did he go away thistime?"
"He went to the capital on private business of his own."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Quite sure. He went two different times. I thought it was because hecouldn't stand it here and wanted to see something different. He went tohis club this evening, too."
"And when did he go away?"
"The first time was the day after his wife was buried."
"And the second time?"
"Two or three days after his return."
"How long did he stay away the first time?"
"Only one day."
"Good! Pull yourself together now. I'll send your George in to you andtell him you haven't been feeling well. Don't tell any one about ourconversation. Where is the kitchen?"
"The last door to the right down the hall."
The peddler left the room and Nanette sank down dazed and trembling onthe nearest chair. George found her still pale, but he seemed to thinkit quite natural that she should have been overcome by the recollectionof the terrible death of her mistress. He gave the old man a mostcordial invitation to return during the next few days. The cook broughtthe peddler a cup of steaming tea, and purchased several trifles fromhim, before he left the house.
When the old man had reached a lonely spot on the road, about half waybetween the hunting castle and the city, he halted, set down his pack,divested himself of his beard and his wig and washed the wrinkles fromhis face with a handful of snow from the wayside. A quarter of anhour later, Detective Muller entered the railway station of the city,burdened with a large grip. He took a seat in the night express whichrolled out from the station a few moments later.
As he was alone in his compartment, Muller gave way to his excitement,sometimes even murmuring half-aloud the thoughts that rushed through hisbrain. "Yes, I am convinced of it, but can I find the proofs?" the wordscame again and again, and in spite of the comfortable warmth in thecompartment, in spite of his tired and half-frozen condition, he couldnot sleep.
He reached the capital at midnight and took a room in a small hotel ina quiet street. When he went out next morning, the servants looked afterhim with suspicion, as in their opinion a man who spent most of thenight pacing up and down his room must surely have a guilty conscience.
Muller went to police headquarters and looked through the arrivals atthe hotels on the 21st of November. The burial of Mrs. Kniepp hadtaken place on the 20th. Muller soon found the name he was lookingfor, "Forest Councillor Leo Kniepp," in the list of guests at the HotelImperial. The detective went at once to the Hotel Imperial, where he wasalready well known. It cost him little time and trouble to discover whathe wished to know, the reason for the Councillor's visit to the capital.
Kniepp had asked for the address of a goldsmith, and had been directedto one of the shops which had the best reputation in the city. He hadbeen in the capital altogether for about twenty-four hours. He had themanner and appearance of a man suffering under some terrible blow.
Muller himself was deep in thought as he entered the train to returnto his home, after a visit to the goldsmith in question. He had a shortinterview with Chief of Police Bauer, who finally gave him the goldenbullet and the keys to the apartment of the murdered man. Then the twowent out together.
An hour later, the chief of police and Muller stood in the garden ofthe house in which the murder had occurred. Bauer had entered from thePromenade after Muller had shown him how to work the lock of the littlegate. Together they went up into the apartment, which was icy cold anduncanny in its loneliness. But the two men did not appear to noticethis, so greatly were they interested in the task that had brought themthere. First of all, they made a most minute examination of the twodoors which had been locked. The keys were still in both locks onthe inside. They were big heavy keys, suitable for the tall massiveheavily-panelled and iron-ornamented doors. The entire villa was builtin this heavy old German style, the favourite fashion of the last fewyears.
When they had looked the locks over carefully, Muller lit the lamp thathung over the desk in the study and closed the window shutters tight.Bauer had smiled at first as he watched his protege's actions, buthis smile changed to a look of keen interest as he suddenly understo
od.Muller took his place in the chair before the desk and looked over atthe door of the vestibule, which was directly opposite him. "Yes, that'sall right," he said with a deep breath.
Bauer had sat down on the sofa to watch the proceedings, now he sprangup with an exclamation: "Through the keyhole?"
"Through the keyhole," answered Muller.
"It is scarcely possible."
"Shall we try it?"
"Yes, yes, you do it." Even the usually indifferent old chief of policewas breathing more hastily now. Muller took a roll of paper and a smallpistol out of his pocket. He unrolled the paper, which