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Page 28
He went at once to the office of the magistrate and made his report,
then returned to the rectory and packed his grip. He arranged for
its transport to the railway station, as he himself preferred to
walk the inconsiderable distance. He passed through the village
and had just entered the open fields when he met Janci with his
flock. The shepherd hastened his steps when he saw the detective
approaching.
"You have found him, sir?" he exclaimed as he came up to Muller.
The men had come to be friends by this time. The silent shepherd
with the power of second sight had won Muller's interest at once.
"Yes, I found him. It is Gyuri, the warder at the asylum."
"No, sir, it is not Gyuri--Gyuri did not do it."
"But when I tell you that he did?"
"But I tell you, sir, that Gyuri did not do it. The man who did
it--he has yellowish hands--I saw them--I saw big yellowish
hands. Gyuri's hands are big, but they are brown."
"Janci, you are right. I was only trying to test you. Gyuri did
not do it; that is, he did not do it with his own hands. The man
who held the knife that struck down the pastor was Varna, the crazy
mechanician."
Janci beat his forehead. "Oh, I am a foolish and useless dreamer!"
he exclaimed; "of course it was Varna's hands that I saw. I have
seen them a hundred times when he came down into the village, and
yet when I saw them in the vision I did not recognise them."
"We're all dreamers, Janci--and our dreams are very useless
generally."
"Yours are not useless, sir," said the shepherd. "If I had as much
brains as you have, my dreams might be of some good."
Muller smiled. "And if I had your visions, Janci, it would be a
powerful aid to me in my profession."
"I don't think you need them, sir. You can find out the hidden
things without them. You are going to leave us?"
"Yes, Janci, I must go back to Budapest, and from there to Vienna.
They need me on another case."
"It's a sad work, this bringing people to the gallows, isn't it?"
"Yes, Janci, it is sometimes. But it's a good thing to be able to
avenge crime and bring justice to the injured. Good-bye, Janci."
"Good-bye, sir, and God speed you."
The shepherd stood looking after the small, slight figure of the
man who walked on rapidly through the heather. "He's the right one
for the work," murmured Janci as he turned slowly back towards the
village.
An hour later Muller stood in the little waiting-room of the railway
station writing a telegram. It was addressed to Count ----.
"Do you know the shepherd Janci? It would be a good thing to
make him the official detective for the village. He has high
qualifications for the profession. If I had his gifts combined
with my own, not one could escape me. I have found this one
however. The guards are already taking him to you. My work
here is done. If I should be needed again I can be found at
Police Headquarters, Vienna.
"Respectfully,
"JOSEPH MULLER."
While the detective was writing his message--it was one of the rare
moments of humour that Muller allowed himself, and he wondered
mildly what the stately Hungarian nobleman would think of it--a
heavy farm wagon jolted over the country roads towards the little
county seat. Sitting beside the driver and riding about the wagon
were armed peasants. The figure of a man, securely bound, his face
distorted by rage and fear, lay in the wagon. It was Gyuri Kovacz,
who had murdered by the hands of another, and who was now on his
way to meet the death that was his due.
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