The Lamp That Went Out | Page 9

moments of leisure.
To-day this leisure came unexpectedly early, for Mrs. Klingmayer had
less work than usual to attend to.
Her little flat consisted of two rooms and a kitchen with a large closet
opening out from it. She lived in the kitchen and rented the front rooms.
Her tenants were a middle-aged man, inspector in a factory, who had
the larger room; and a younger man who was bookkeeper in an
importing house in the city. But this young man had not been at home
for forty-eight hours, a fact, however, which did not greatly worry his
landlady. The gentleman in question lived a rather dissipated life and it
was not the first time that he had remained away from home over night.
It is true that it was the first time that he had not been home for two
successive nights. But as Mrs. Klingmayer thought, everything has to
happen the first time sometime. "It's not likely to be the last time," the
worthy woman thought.
At all events she was rather glad of it to-day, for she suffered from

rheumatism and it was difficult for her to get about. The young man's
absence saved her the work of fixing up his room that morning and
allowed her to get to her reading earlier than usual. When she had put
the pot of soup on the fire, she sat down by the window, adjusted her
big spectacles and began to read. To her great delight she discovered
that the paper she held in her hand bore the date of the previous
afternoon. In spite of the good intentions of her friend the grocer, it was
not always that she could get a paper of so recent date, and she began to
read with doubled anticipation of pleasure.
She did not waste time on the leading articles, for she understood little
about politics. The serial stories were a great delight to her, or would
have been, if she had ever been able to follow them consecutively. But
her principal joy were the everyday happenings of varied interest which
she found in the news columns. To-day she was so absorbed in the
reading of them that the soup pot began to boil over and send out
rivulets down onto the stove. Ordinarily this would have shocked Mrs.
Klingmayer, for the neatness of her pots and pans was the one great
care of her life. But now, strange to relate, she paid no attention to the
soup, nor to the smell and the smoke that arose from the stove. She had
just come upon a notice in the paper which took her entire attention.
She read it through three times, and each time with growing excitement.
This is what she read:
MURDER IN HIETZING
This morning at six o'clock the body of a man about 30 years old was
discovered in a lane in Hietzing. The man must have been dead many
hours. He had been shot from behind. The dead man was tall and thin,
with brown eyes, brown hair and moustache. The letters L. W. were
embroidered in his underwear. There was nothing else discovered on
him that could reveal- his identity. His watch and purse were not in his
pockets: presumably they had been taken by the murderer. A strange
fact is that in one of his pockets - a hidden pocket it is true - there was
the sum of 300 guldens in bills.
This was the notice which made Mrs. Klingmayer neglect the soup pot.

Finally the old woman stood up very slowly, threw a glance at the stove
and opened the window mechanically. Then she lifted the pots from the
fire and set them on the outer edge of the range. And then she did
something that ordinarily would have shocked her economical soul -
she poured water on the fire to put it out.
When she saw that there was not a spark left in the stove, she went into
her own little room and prepared to go out. Her excitement caused her
to forget her rheumatism entirely. One more look around her little
kitchen, then she locked it up and set out for the centre of the city.
She went to the office of the importing house where her tenant,
Leopold Winkler, was employed as bookkeeper. The clerk at the door
noticed the woman's excitement and asked her kindly what the trouble
was.
"I'd like to speak to Mr. Winkler," she said eagerly.
"Mr. Winkler hasn't come in yet," answered the young man. "Is
anything the matter? You look so white! Winkler will probably show
up soon, he's never very punctual. But it's after eleven o'clock now and
he's never been as late as this before."
"I 'don't believe he'll ever come again," said the