The Lamp That Went Out | Page 5

officer gave his men orders to raise the body and to take it to
the morgue. An hour later the unknown man lay in the bare room in
which the only spot of brightness were the rays of the sun that crept
through the high barred windows and touched his cold face and
stiffened form as with a pitying caress. But no, there was one other
little spot of brightness in the silent place. It was the wild aster which
the dead man's hand still held tightly clasped. The little purple flowers
were quite fresh yet, and the dewdrops clinging to them greeted the kiss
of the sun's rays with an answering smile.
CHAPTER II
THE BROKEN WILLOW TWIG
As soon as the corpse had been taken away, the police commissioner
returned to the station. But Muller remained there all alone to make a
thorough examination of the entire vicinity.
It was not a very attractive spot, this particular part of the street. There
must have been a nursery there at one time, for there were still several
ordered rows of small trees to be seen. There were traces of flower
cultivation as well, for several trailing vines and overgrown bushes
showed where shrubs had been grown which do not usually grow
without man's assistance. Immediately back of the old elder tree Muller
found several fine examples of rare flowers, or rather he found the
shrubs which his experienced eye recognised as having once borne
these unusual blossoms. One or two blooms still hung to the bushes and
the detective, who was a great lover of flowers, picked them and put
them in his buttonhole. While he did this, his keen eyes were darting
about the place taking in all the details. This vacant lot had evidently
been used as an unlicensed dumping ground for some time, for all sorts
of odds and ends, old boots, bits of stuff, silk and rags, broken bottles
and empty tin cans, lay about between the bushes or half buried in the
earth. What had once been an orderly garden was now an untidy
receptacle for waste. The pedantically neat detective looked about him
in disgust, then suddenly he forgot his displeasure and a gleam shot up
in his eye. It was very little, the thing this man had seen, this man who

saw so much more than others.
About ten paces from where he stood a high wooden fence hemmed in
the lot. The fence belonged to the neighbouring property, as the lot in
which he stood was not protected in any way. To the back it was closed
off by a corn field where the tall stalks rustled gently in the faint
morning breeze. All this could be seen by anybody and Muller had seen
it all at his first glance. But now he had seen something else.
Something that excited him because it might possibly have some
connection with the newly discovered crime. His keen eyes, in glancing
along the wooden fence at his right hand, had caught sight of a little
twig which had worked its way through the fence. This twig belonged
to a willow tree which grew on the other side, and which spread its
grey-green foliage over the fence or through its wide openings. One of
the little twigs which had crept in between the planks was broken, and
it had been broken very recently, for the leaves were still fresh and the
sap was oozing from the crushed stem. Muller walked over to the fence
and examined the twig carefully. He soon saw how it came to be
broken. The broken part was about the height of a man's knee from the
ground. And just at this height there was quite a space between two of
the planks of the fence, heavy planks which were laid cross-ways and
nailed to thick posts. It would have been very easy for anybody to get a
foothold in this open space between the planks.
It was very evidently some foot thrust in between the planks which had
broken the little willow twig, and its soft rind had left a green mark on
the lower plank. "I wonder if that has anything to do with the murder,"
thought Muller, looking over the fence into the lot on the other side.
This neighbouring plot was evidently a neglected garden. It had once
worn an aristocratic air, with stone statues and artistic arrangement of
flower beds and shrubs. It was still attractive even in its neglected
condition. Beyond it, through the foliage of its heavy trees, glass
windows caught the sunlight. Muller remembered that there was a
handsome old house in this direction, a house with a mansard roof and
wide-reaching wings. He did not now know to whom this handsome
old house