The Lamp That Went Out | Page 3

that beat.
"Why, what is the matter?" he asked. "Why are you so excited?"
"Down there-in the lane, there's a dead man," answered the girl,
gasping for breath.
"A dead man?" repeated the policeman gravely, looking at the girl.
"Are you sure he's dead?"
Anna nodded. "His eyes are all glassy and I saw blood on his back."
"Well, you're evidently very much frightened, and I suppose you don't
want to go down there again. I'll look into the matter, if you will go to
the police station and make the announcement. Will you do it?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right, then, that will gain time for us. Good-bye, Miss Anna."
The man walked quickly down the street, while the girl hurried off in

the opposite direction, to the nearest police station, where she told what
she had seen.
The policeman reached his goal even earlier. The first glance told him
that the man lying there by the wayside was indeed lifeless. And the icy
stiffness of the hand which he touched showed him that life must have
fled many hours back. Anna had been right about the blood also. The
dead man lay on the farther side of the ditch, half down into it. His
right arm was bent under his body, his left arm was stretched out, and
the stiffened fingers ... they were slender white fingers ... had sought
for something to break his fall. All they had found was a tall stem of
wild aster with its purple blossoms, which they were holding fast in the
death grip. On the dead man's back was a small bullet-wound and
around the edges of it his light grey coat was stained with blood. His
face was distorted in pain and terror. It was a nice face, or would have
been, did it not show all too plainly the marks of dissipation in spite of
the fact that the man could not have been much past thirty years old. He
was a stranger to the policeman, although the latter had been on this
beat for over three years.
When the guardian of the law had convinced himself that there was
nothing more to do for the man who lay there, he rose from his
stooping position and stepped back. His gaze wandered up and down
the quiet lane, which was still absolutely empty of human life. He stood
there quietly waiting, watching over the ghastly discovery. In about ten
minutes the police commissioner and the coroner, followed by two
roundsmen with a litter, joined the solitary watcher, and the latter could
return to his post.
The policemen set down their litter and waited for orders, while the
coroner and the commissioner bent over the corpse. There was nothing
for the physician to do but to declare that the unfortunate man had been
dead for many hours. The bullet which struck him in the back had
killed him at once. The commissioner examined the ground
immediately around the corpse, but could find nothing that pointed to a
struggle. There remained only to prove whether there had been a
robbery as well as a murder.

"Judging from the man's position the bullet must have come from that
direction," said the commissioner, pointing towards the cottages down
the lane.
"People who are killed by bullets may turn several times before they
fall," said a gentle voice behind the police officer. The voice seemed to
suit the thin little man who stood there meekly, his hat in his hand.
The commissioner turned quickly. "Ah, are you there already, Muller?"
he said, as if greatly pleased, while the physician broke in with the
remark:
"That's just what I was about to observe. This man did not die so
quickly that he could not have made a voluntary or involuntary
movement before life fled. The shot that killed him might have come
from any direction."
The commissioner nodded thoughtfully and there was silence for a few
moments. Muller - for the little thin man was none other than the
celebrated Joseph Muller, one of the most brilliant detectives in the
service of the Austrian police - looked down at the corpse carefully..
He took plenty of time to do it and nobody hurried him. For nobody
ever hurried Muller; his well-known and almost laughable
thoroughness and pedantry were too valuable in their results. It was a
tradition in the police that Muller was to have all the time he wanted for
everything. It paid in the end, for Muller made few mistakes. Therefore,
his superior the police commissioner, and the coroner waited quietly
while the little man made his inspection of the corpse.
"Thank you," said Muller finally, with a polite bow to the
commissioner, before he bent to brush away the dust on his knees.
"Well?" asked