The Lamp That Went Out | Page 7

indifferently, after he had shaken off the strange hand.
"He must have slept more soundly than usual. He went off into the country with me yesterday. We had an errand to do there and on the way back we stopped in for a drink. Sultan takes a drop or two himself occasionally, and that usually makes him sleep. I had hard work to bring him home. We got here just a few minutes before half-past nine and I tell you we were both good and tired."
By this time they had come to the elder-tree and the old man's stream of talk ceased as he stood before the spot where the mysterious crime had occurred. He looked down thoughtfully at the grass, now trampled by many feet. "Who could have done it?" he murmured finally, with a sigh that expressed his pity for the victim.
"Hietzing is known to be one of the safest spots in Vienna," remarked Muller.
"Indeed it is, sir; indeed it is. As it would well have to be with the royal castles right here in the neighbourhood! Indeed it would have to be safe with the Court coming here all the time."
"Why, yes, you see more police here than anywhere else in the city."
"Yes, they're always sticking their nose in where they're not necessary," remarked the old man, not realising to whom he was speaking. "They fuss about everything you do or don't do, and yet a man can be shot down right under our very noses here and the police can't help it."
"But, my dear sir, it isn't always possible for the police to prevent a criminal carrying out his evil intention," said Muller good-naturedly.
"Well, why not? if they watch out sharp enough?"
"The police watch out sharper than most people think. But they can't catch a man until he has committed his crime, can they?"
"No, I suppose not," said the old man, with another glance at the elder-tree. He bowed to Muller and turned and walked away.
Muller followed him slowly, very much pleased with this meeting, for it had given him a new clue. There was no reason to doubt the old man's story. And if this story was true, then the crime had been committed before half-past nine of the evening previous. For the old man - he was evidently the janitor in No.1 - had not heard the shot.
Muller left the scene of the crime and walked towards the four houses. Before he reached them he had to pass the garden which belonged to the house with the mansard roof. Right and left of this garden were vacant lots, as well as on the opposite side of the street. Then came to the right and left the four new houses which stood at the beginning of the quiet lane. Muller passed them, turned up a cross street and then down again, into the street running parallel, to the lane, a quiet aristocratic street on which fronted the house with the mansard roof.
A carriage stood in front of this house, two great trunks piled up on the box beside the driver. A young girl and an old man in livery were placing bags and bundles of rugs inside the carriage. Muller walked slowly toward the carriage. Just as he reached the open gate of the garden he was obliged to halt, to his own great satisfaction. For at this moment a group of people came out from the house, the owners of it evidently, prepared for a journey and surrounded by their servants.
Beside the old man and the young girl, there were two other women, one evidently the housekeeper, the other possibly the cook. The latter was weeping openly and devoutly kissing the hand of her mistress. The housekeeper discovered that a rug was missing and sent the maid back for it, while the old servant helped the lady into the carriage. The door of the carriage was wide open and Muller had a good glimpse of the pale, sweet-faced and delicate-looking young women who leaned back in her corner, shivering and evidently ill. The servants bustled about, making her comfortable, while her husband superintended the work with anxious tenderness. He was a tall, fine-looking man with deep-set grey eyes and a rich, sympathetic voice. He gave his orders to his servants with calm authority, but he also was evidently suffering from the disease of our century - nervousness, for Muller saw that the man's hands clenched feverishly and that his lips were trembling under his drooping moustache.
The maid hastened down with the rug and spread it over her mistress's knees, as the gentleman exclaimed nervously: "Do hurry with that! Do you want us to miss the train?"
The butler closed the door of the carriage, the coachman gathered up the reins and raised his whip. The housekeeper