The Pocket Diary Found in the Snow | Page 6

The other two looked at him in astonishment. He showed them a single
blond hair which had been in one of the bread seals.
"How I was murdered." Those were the words that Commissioner von
Mayringen read aloud after he had hastily turned the first few pages of
the notebook, and had come to a place where the writing was heavily
underscored.
The commissioner and Amster were much astonished at these words,
but the detective still gazed quietly at the seals of the wrapping.
"This heading reads like insanity, said the commissioner. Muller
shrugged his shoulders, then turned to Amster. "Where did you find the
package?"
In Garden street."
"When?"
"About twenty minutes ago."
Amster gave a short and lucid account of his discovery. His intelligent
face and well-chosen words showed that he had observation and the
power to describe correctly what he had observed. His honest eyes
inspired confidence.
"Where could they have been taking the woman?" asked the detective,
more of himself than of the others.
The commissioner searched hastily through the notebook for a
signature, but without success. "Why do you think it is a woman? This
writing looks more like a man's hand to me. The letters are so heavy
and - "

"That is only because they are written with broad pen," interrupted
Muller, showing him the writing on the package; "here is the same
hand, but it is written with a fine hard pencil, and you can see distinctly
that this is a woman's handwriting. And besides, the skin on a man's
thumb does not show the fine markings that you can see here on these
bits of bread that have been used for seals."
The commissioner rose from his seat. "You may be right, Muller. We
will take for granted, then, that there is a woman in trouble. It remains
to be seen whether she is insane or not."
"Yes, that remains to be seen," said Muller dryly, as he reached for his
overcoat.
"You are going before you read what is in the notebook?" asked
Commissioner von Mayringen.
Muller nodded. "I want to see the wagon tracks before they are lost; it
may help me to discover something else. You can read the book and
make any arrangements you find necessary after that."
Muller was already wrapped in his overcoat. "Is it snowing now?" He
turned to Arnster.
"Some flakes were falling as I came here."
"All right. Come with me and show me the way." Muller nodded
carelessly to his superior officer, his mind evidently already engrossed
in thoughts of the interesting case, and hurried out with Amster. The
commissioner was quite satisfied with the state of affairs. He knew the
case was in safe hands. He seated himself at his desk again and began
to read the little book which had come into his hands so strangely. His
eyes ran more and more rapidly over the closely written pages, as his
interest grew and grew.
When, half an hour later, he had finished the reading, he paced
restlessly up and down the room, trying to bring order into the thoughts
that rushed through his brain. And one thought came again and again,

and would not be denied in spite of many improbabilities, and many
strange things with which the book was full; in spite, also, of the
varying, uncertain handwriting and style of the message. This one
thought was, "This woman is not insane."
While the young official was pondering over the problem, Muller
entered as quietly as ever, bowed, put his hat and cane in their places,
and shook the snow off his clothing. He was evidently pleased about
something. Kurt von Mayringen did not notice his entrance. He was
again at the desk with the open book before him, staring at the
mysterious words, "How I was murdered."
"It is a woman, a lady of position. And if she is mad, then her madness
certainly has method." Muller said these words in his usual quiet way,
almost indifferently. The young commissioner started up and snatched
for the fine white handkerchief which the detective handed him. A
strong sweet perfume filled the room. "It is hers?" he murmured.
"It is hers," said Muller. "At least we can take that much for granted,
for the handkerchief bears the same monogram, A. L., which is on the
notebook."
Commissioner von Mayringen rose from his chair in evident
excitement. "Well?" he asked.
It was a short question, but full of meaning, and one could see that he
was waiting in great excitement for the answer. Muller reported what
he had discovered. The commissioner thought it little enough, and
shrugged his shoulders impatiently when the other had finished.
Muller noticed his chief's dissatisfaction and smiled at it. He himself
was quite content with what he