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Page 14
"One gets used to it--like everything else," answered Muller, with
a gentle smile. "And now I have to thank you gentlemen for your
confidence in me."
"Which I know you will justify," said the Count.
Muller shrugged his shoulders: "I haven't felt anything yet--but
it will come--there's something in the air."
The Count smiled at his manner of expressing himself, but all four
of the men had already begun to feel sympathy and respect for this
quiet-mannered little person whose words were so few and whose
voice was so gentle. Something in his grey eyes and in the quiet
determination of his manner made them realise that he had won his
fame honestly. With the enthusiasm of his race the Hungarian Count
pressed the detective's hand in a warm grasp as he said: "I know
that we can trust in you. You will avenge the death of my old
friend and of those others who were killed here. The doctor and
the magistrate will tell you about them to-morrow. We two will go
home now. Telegraph us as soon as anything has happened. Every
one in the village will be ready to help you and of course you can
call on me for funds. Here is something to begin on." With these
words the Count laid a silk purse full of gold pieces on the table.
One more pressure of the hand and he was gone. The other men also
left the room, following the Count's lead in a cordial farewell of
the detective. They also shared the nobleman's feeling that now
indeed, with this man to help them, could the cloud of horror that
had hung over the village for two years, and had culminated in
the present catastrophe, be lifted.
The excitement of the Count's departure had died away and the steps
of the other men on their way to the village had faded in the
distance. There was nothing now to be heard but the rustling of
the leaves and the creaking of the boughs as the trees bent before
the onrush of the wind. Muller stood alone, with folded arms, in
the middle of the large room, letting his sharp eyes wander about
the circle of light thrown by the lamps. He was glad to be alone
--for only when he was alone could his brain do its best work. He
took up one of the lamps and opened the door to the room in which,
as far as could be known, the murder had been committed. He
walked in carefully and, setting the lamp on the desk, examined the
articles lying about on it. There was nothing of importance to be
found there. An open Bible and a sheet of paper with notes for the
day's sermon lay on top of the desk. In the drawers, none of which
were locked, were official papers, books, manuscripts of former
sermons, and a few unimportant personal notes.
The flame of the lamp flickered in the breeze that came from the
open window. But Muller did not close the casement. He wanted to
leave everything just as he had found it until daylight. When he
saw that it was impossible to leave the lamp there he took it up
again and left the room.
"What is the use of being impatient?" he said to himself. "If I
move about in this poor light I will be sure to ruin some possible
clue. For there must be some clue left here. It is impossible for
even the most practiced criminal not to leave some trace of his
presence."
The detective returned to the dining-room, locking the study door
carefully behind him. The maid and the coachman returned, bringing
in an abundant supper, and Muller sat down to do justice to the many
good things on the tray. When the maid returned to take away the
dishes she inquired whether she should put the guest chamber in
order for the detective. He told her not to go to any trouble for
his sake, that he would sleep in the bed in the neighbouring room.
"You going to sleep in there?" said the girl, horrified.
"Yes, my child, and I think I will sleep well to-night. I feel
very tired." Liska carried the things out, shaking her head in
surprise at this thin little man who did not seem to know what it
was to be afraid. Half an hour later the rectory was in darkness.
Before he retired, Muller had made a careful examination of the
pastor's bedroom. Nothing was disturbed anywhere, and it was
evident that the priest had not made any preparations for the
night, but was still at work at his desk in the study when death
overtook him. When he came to this conclusion, the detective went
to bed and soon fell asleep.
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