CHAPTER THREE. THE LONELY COTTAGE
Fifteen minutes after the driver had made his report to CommissionerVon Mayringen, the latter with Amster entered another cab. A well-armedpoliceman mounted the box of this second vehicle. "Follow that cabahead," the commissioner told his driver. The second cab followed theone-horse coupe in which Muller was seated. They drove first to No. 14Cathedral 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 coulddissuade the invalid, who was greatly fatigued by his morning visit tothe police station, from joining them.
The carriages then drove off more quickly than before. It was now quitedark, a gloomy stormy winter evening. Muller had taken his place on thebox of his cab and sat peering out into the darkness. In spite of thesharp wind and the ice that blew against his face the detective couldsee that they were going out from the more closely built up portions ofthe city, and were now in new streets with half-finished houses. Soonthey passed even these and were outside of the city. The way was lonelyand dreary, bordered by wooden fences on both sides. Muller lookedsharply to right and to left.
"You should have become alarmed here," he said to the driver, pointingto 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 fewmoments 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, onlythe wind roared around them, and somewhere in the distance a fog hornmoaned.
It was now six o'clock. The snow threw out a mild light which could notbrighten the deep darkness around them. About half an hour later thefirst cab halted. "There's the house up there. Shall I drive to thegarden gate?"
"No, stop here." Muller was already on the ground. "Are there any dogshere?" he asked.
"I didn't hear any yesterday."
"That's of no value. You didn't seem to hear much of anythingyesterday." Muller opened the door of the cab and helped Berner out. Theold man was trembling. "That was a dreadful drive!" he stammered.
"I hope you will be happier on the drive back," said the detective andadded, "You stay here with the commissioner now."
The latter had already left his cab with his companion. His sharp eyesglanced over the heavily shaded garden and the little house in itsmidst. A little light shone from two windows of the first story. Themen's eyes looked toward them, then the detective and Amster walkedtoward a high picket fence which closed the garden on the side nearestits neighbours. They shook the various pickets without much caution,for the wind made noise enough to kill any other sound. Amster called toMuller, he had found a loose picket, and his strong young arms had tornit out easily. Muller motioned to the other three to join them. A momentlater 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 groundfloor. Amster looked inquiringly at the commissioner and the latternodded and said, "All right, go ahead."
The next minute Amster had broken in through one pane of the window andturned the latch. The inner window was broken already so that it was notdifficult for him to open it without any further noise. He disappearedinto the dark room within. In a few seconds they heard a key turn in thedoor and it opened gently. The men entered, all except the policeman,who remained outside. The blind of his lantern was slightly opened, andhe had his revolver ready in his hand.
Muller had opened his lantern also, and they saw that they were in aprettily furnished corridor from which the staircase and one door ledout.
The four men tiptoed up the stairway and the commissioner stepped tothe first of the two doors which opened onto the upper corridor. Heturned the key which was in the lock, and opened the door, but theyfound themselves in a room as dark as was the corridor. From somewhere,however, a ray of light fell into the blackness. The official steppedinto the room, pulling Berner in after him. The poor old man was in astate of trembling excitement when he found himself in the house wherehis beloved young lady might already be a corpse. One step more and asmothered cry broke from his lips. The commissioner had opened the doorof an adjoining room, which was lighted and handsomely furnished. Onlythe heavy iron bars across the closed windows showed that the young ladywho sat leaning back wearily in an arm-chair was a prisoner.
She looked up as they entered. The expression of utter despair and deepweariness 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, butthose who came to rescue. A bright flush illumined her cheeks and hereyes gleamed. But the change was too sudden for her tortured soul. Sherose from her chair, then sank fainting to the floor.
Berner threw himself on his knees beside her, sobbing out, "She isdying! She is dying!"
Muller turned on the instant, for he had heard the door on the otherside of the hall open, and a tall slender man with a smooth face and adeep scar on his right cheek stood on the threshold looking at them indazed surprise. For an instant only had he lost his control. The nextsecond he was in his room again, slamming the door behind him. But itwas too late. Amster's foot was already in the crack of the door and hepushed it open to let Muller enter. "Well done," cried the latter, andthen he turned to the man in the room. "Here, stop that. I can firetwice before you get the window open."
The man turned and walked slowly to the centre of the room, sinking downinto an arm-chair that stood beside the desk. Neither Amster nor Mullerturned their eyes from him for a moment, ready for any attempt on hispart to escape. But the detective had already seen something that toldhim that Langen was not thinking of flight. When he turned to the desk,Muller had seen his eyes glisten while a scornful smile parted histhin lips. A second later he had let his handkerchief fall, apparentlycarelessly, upon the desk. But in this short space of time thedetective's sharp eyes had seen a tiny bottle upon which was a blacklabel with a grinning skull. Muller could not see whether the bottle wasfull or empty, but now he knew that it must hold sufficient poison toenable the captured criminal to escape open disgrace. Knowing this,Muller looked with admiration at the calmness of the villain, whoseintelligent 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 policecommissioner is occupied with your step-sister, whom you were about tomurder."
Langen put his hand to his cheek, looking at Muller between his lashesas 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 herentire fortune, did you not? But that could have come to you only afterthirty years, and you are not likely to have waited that long. Your planwas to murder your step-sister, even if you could not get a letter fromher telling of her intention to commit suicide."
Langen rose suddenly, but controlled himself again and sank back easilyin 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 forehe
ad. Until now,perhaps, he had had some possible hope of escape. It was useless now, heknew.
As calmly as he had spoken thus far Muller continued. "For twenty yearsI have been studying the hearts of criminals like yourself. But thereare things I do not understand about this case and it interests me verymuch."
Langen had wiped the drops from his forehead and he now turned on Mullera 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 problemto one of your experience," Langen began. His voice, which had beenslightly veiled before, was now quite clear. "Ask me all you like. Iwill 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 havekilled her easily in the compartment of the railway train?"
"The windows of the compartment were open, my honoured friend, and itwas a fine warm evening for the season, because of which the windows inthe other compartment were also open. There was nothing else I coulddo at that time then, except to offer Asta a cup of tea when she felt alittle faint upon leaving the train. I am a physician and I know how touse the right drugs at the right time. When Asta had taken the tea, sheknew 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 youleft so handy for her? oh, but I forgot, the old woman took the weaponaway 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 fearedthe old woman might have seen my face enough to recognise me again. Ithought 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 havebeen found dead here several days after you had entered the house?"
"Several days, several weeks perhaps. I preferred to wait until thewoman who rented the house had read in the papers that Asta Langen haddisappeared and was being sought for. Somebody would have found herhere, and her identity would have easily been established, for I knewthat 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 suicidewould have been a dark mystery, unless, of course, malicious tongueswould have found ugly reasons enough why a beautiful young lady shouldhide herself in a lonely cottage to take her own life."
Muller had spoken as if to himself. Egon Langen's lips, parted in asmile so evil that Amster clenched his fists.
"And you would not have regretted this ruining the reputation as well astaking 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 verycharitable and would gladly have helped you if you were in need. Besidethis, you were entitled to a portion of your father's estate. It isalmost thirty thousand guldens, as Mr. Fellner tells me. Why did you nottake that?"
"Fellner did not know that I had already received twenty thousand ofthis when my father turned me out. He probably would have heard of itlater, for Berner was the witness. I did not care for the remaining tenthousand because I would have the entire fortune after Asta's death. Iwould have seen the official notice and the call for heirs in Australia,and would have written from there, announcing that I was still alive. Ifyou had come several days later I should have been a rich man within ayear."
His clenched fist resting on his knee, the rascal stared out aheadof him when he ended his shameless confession. In his rage anddisappointment he had not noticed that Muller's hand dropped gently tothe desk and softly took a little bottle from under the handkerchief.Langen came out of his dark thoughts only when Muller's voice broke thesilence. "But you miscalculated, if you expected to inherit from yoursister. She is still a minor and your father's will would have given youonly 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 provethat she died after her birthday, therefore in full possession of herfortune and without leaving any will?"
"That is very simple. I buy several newspapers every day. I would havetaken them up to the fourth and fifth of December and left them herewith the body."
"You are more clever even than I thought," said the detective dryly ashe heard the commissioner's steps behind him. Muller put a whistleto his lips and its shrill tone ran through the house, calling up thepoliceman 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 captorsenter the door. He put his hand out, raised his handkerchief hastilyand then a wild scream echoed through the room, a scream that ended in aghastly groan.
"I have taken your bottle, you might as well give yourself up quietly,"said Muller calmly, holding his revolver near Langen's face. Theprisoner threw himself at the detective but was caught and overpoweredby Amster and the policeman.
A quarter of an hour later the cabs drove back toward the city. Insideone cowered Egon Langen, watched by the policeman and Amster. Berner wason the box beside the driver, telling the now interested man the storyof what had happened to his dear young lady. In the other cab sat AstaLangen with Kurt von Mayringen and Muller.
"Do you feel better now?" asked the young commissioner in sinceresympathy that was mingled with admiration for the delicate beauty ofthe girl beside him, an admiration heightened by her romantic story andmarvelous escape.
Asta nodded and answered gently: "I feel as if some terrible weight werelifted from my heart and brain. But I doubt if I will ever forget thesehorrible days, when I had already come to accept it as a fact that--thatI 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 reachedout in the darkness of the cab, caught Muller's hand and would haveraised it to her lips, had not the little man drawn it away hastily. "Itwas only my duty, dear young lady," he said. "A duty that is not onerouswhen it means the rescue of innocence and the preventing of crime. It isnot always so, unfortunately--nor am I always so fortunate as in thiscase."
This indeed is what Muller calls a "case with a happy ending," forscarcely a year later, to his own great embarrassment, he found himselfthe most honoured guest, and a centre of attraction equally with thebridal couple, at the marriage of Kurt von Mayringen and Asta Langen.Muller asserts, however, that he is not a success in society, and thathe would rather unravel fifty difficult cases than again be the "lion"at a fashionable function.
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