The Lamp That Went Out | Page 7

famous watchdog, I'd have you know.
He'll growl if anybody passes through the street after dark, and I don't
see why he didn't notice what was going on over there last night. If a
man's attacked, he generally calls for help; it's a queer business all
right."
"Well, Sultan, why didn't you make a noise?" asked Muller, patting the
dog's broad head. Sultan growled and walked on 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