The Case of the Registered Letter | Page 4

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 REGISTERED LETTER
by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner

"Oh, sir, save him if you can--save my poor nephew! I know he is
innocent!"
The little old lady sank back in her chair, gazing up at Commissioner
von Riedau with tear-dimmed eyes full of helpless appeal. The
commissioner looked thoughtful. "But the case is in the hands of the
local authorities, Madam," he answered gently, a strain of pity in his
voice. "I don't exactly see how we could interfere."
"But they believe Albert guilty! They haven't given him a chance!"
"He cannot be sentenced without sufficient proof of his guilt."

"But the trial, the horrible trial--it will kill him--his heart is weak. I
thought--I thought you might send some one--some one of your
detectives--to find out the truth of the case. You must have the best
people here in Vienna. Oh, my poor Albert--"
Her voice died away in a suppressed sob, and she covered her face to
keep back the tears.
The commissioner pressed a bell on his desk. "Is Detective Joseph
Muller anywhere about the building?" he asked of the attendant who
appeared at the door.
"I think he is, sir. I saw him come in not long ago."
"Ask him to come up to this room. Say I would like to speak to him."
The attendant went out.
"I have sent for one of the best men on our force, Madam," continued
the commissioner, turning back to the pathetic little figure in the chair.
"We will go into this matter a little more in detail and see if it is
possible for us to interfere with the work of the local, authorities in
G--."
The little old lady gave her eyes a last hasty dab with a dainty
handkerchief and raised her head again, fighting for self-control. She
was a quaint little figure, with soft grey hair drawn back smoothly from
a gentle-featured face in which each wrinkle seemed the seal of some
loving thought for others. Her bonnet and gown were of excellent
material in delicate soft colours, but cut in the style of an earlier decade.
The capable lines of her thin little hands showed through the fabric of
her grey gloves. Her whole attitude bore the impress of one who had
adventured far beyond the customary routine of her home circle,
adventured out into