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Page 7
With best greetings for both of you,
Your old friend,
John
G--, Friday, Sept. 23rd.
An envelope, not yet addressed, lay beside this letter. It was
clear that the man who penned these words had no thought of suicide.
On the contrary, he was looking forward to a day of pleasure in the
near future, and laying plans for the time to come. The murderer's
bullet had pierced a heart pulsing with the joy of life.
This was the gist of the account in the evening paper. Muller
read it through carefully, lingering over several points which
seemed to interest him particularly. Then he turned to Miss Babette
Graumann. "And then what happened?" he asked.
"Then the Police Commissioner came to Grunau and questioned my
nephew. They had found out that Albert was Mr. Siders' only friend
here. And late that evening the Mayor and the Commissioner came
to our house with the revolver they had found in the room in G--,
and they--they--" her voice trembled again, "they arrested my dear
boy and took him away."
"Have you visited him in prison? What does he say about it himself?"
"He seems quite hopeless. He says that he is innocent--oh, I know
he is--but everything is against him. He acknowledges that it was
he who was in Mr. Siders' room the evening before the murder. He
went there because Siders wrote him to come. He says he left early,
and that John acted queerly. He knows they will not believe his
story. This worry and anxiety will kill him. He has a serious heart
trouble; he has suffered from it for years, and it has been growing
steadily worse. I dare not think what this excitement may do for
him." Miss Graumann broke down again and sobbed aloud. Muller laid
his hands soothingly on the little old fingers that gripped the arm
of the chair.
"Did your nephew send you here to ask for help?" he inquired very
gently.
"Oh, no" The old lady looked up at him through her tears. "No, he
would not have done that. I'm afraid that he'll be angry if he
knows that I have come. He seemed so hopeless, so dazed. I just
couldn't stand it. It seemed to me that the police in G-- were
taking things for granted, and just sitting there waiting for an
innocent man to confess, instead of looking for the real murderer,
who may be gone, the Lord knows where, by now!" Miss Graumann's
faded cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she straightened up in
her chair again, while her eyes snapped defiance through the tears
that hung on their lashes.
A faint gleam twinkled up in Muller's eyes, and he did not look at
his chief. Doctor von Riedau's own face glowed in a slowly mounting
flush, and his eyes drooped in a moment of conscious embarrassment
at some recollection, the sting of which was evidently made worse
by Muller's presence. But Commissioner von Riedau had brains enough
to acknowledge his mistakes and to learn from them. He looked across
the desk at Miss Graumann. "You are right, Madam, the police have
made that mistake more than once. And a man with a clear record
deserves the benefit of the doubt. We will take up this case.
Detective Muller will be put in charge of it. And that means, Madam,
that we are giving you the very best assistance the Imperial Police
Force affords."
Miss Babette Graumann did not attempt to speak. In a wave of
emotion she stretched out both little hands to the detective and
clasped his warmly. "Oh, thank you," she said at last. "I thank
you. He's just like my own boy to me; he's all the child I ever
had, you know."
"But there are difficulties in the way," continued the commissioner
in a business-like tone. "The local authorities in G-- have not
asked for our assistance, and we are taking up the case over their
heads, as it were. I shall have to leave that to Muller's diplomacy.
He will come to G-- and have an interview with your nephew. Then he
will have to use his own judgment as to the next steps, and as to
how far he may go in opposition to what has been done by the police
there."
"And then I may go back home?" asked Miss Graumann. "Go home with
the assurance that you will help my poor boy?"
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