"No， there's not much chance for a police detective to get rich. I've often wondered why Muller never had the energy to set up in business for himself. He might have won fame and fortune as a private detective. But he's gone on plodding along as a police subordinate， and letting the department get all the credit for his most brilliant achievements. It's a sort of incorrigible humbleness of nature - and then， you know， he had the misfortune to be unjustly sentenced to a term in prison in his early youth."

　　"No， I did not know that."

　　"The stigma stuck to his name， and finally drove him to take up this work. I don't think Muller realised， when he began， just how greatly he is gifted. I don't know that he really knows now. He seems to do it because he likes it - he's a queer sort of man."

　　While the commissioners drove through the streets to the police station the man of whom they were speaking sat in Johann's little room in close consultation with the valet.

　　"How long is it since the Professor began to give you money to go to the theatre on Saturday evenings？"

　　The first time it happened was on my name day. "What's the rest of your name？ There are so many Johanns on the calendar."

　　"I am Johann Nepomuk."

　　Muller took a little calendar from his pocket and turned its pages. "It was May sixteenth，" volunteered the valet.

　　"Quite right. May sixteenth was a Saturday. And since then you have gone to the theatre every Saturday evening？"

　　"Yes， sir.

　　"When did the owner of the house go away？"

　　"Last April. His wife was ill and he had to take her away. They went to Italy."

　　"And you two have been alone in the house since April？"

　　"Yes， sir， we two."

　　"Was there no janitor？"

　　"No， sir. The garden was taken care of by a man who came in for the day."

　　"And you had no dog？ I haven't seen any around the place."

　　"No， sir； the Professor did not like animals. But he must have been thinking about buying a dog， because I found a new dog-whip in his room one day."

　　"Somebody might have left it there. One usually buys the dog first and then the whip."

　　"Yes， sir. But there wasn't anybody here to forget it. The Professor did not receive any visits at that time."

　　"Why are you so sure of that？"

　　"Because it was the middle of summer， and everybody was away."

　　Oh， then， we won't bother about the whip. Can you tell me of any ladies with whom the Professor was acquainted？"

　　"Ladies？ I don't know of any. Of course， the Professor was invited out a good deal， and most of the other gentlemen from the college were married."

　　"Did he ever receive letters from ladies？" continued Muller.

　　Johann thought the matter over， then confessed that he knew very little about writing and couldn't read handwriting very well anyway. But he remembered to have seen a letter now and then， a little letter with a fine and delicate handwriting.

　　"Have you any of these envelopes？" asked Muller. But Johann told him that in spite of his usual carelessness in such matters， Professor Fellner never allowed these letters to lie about his room.

　　Finally the detective came out with the question to which he had been leading up. "Did your master ever receive visits from ladies？

　　Johann looked extremely stupid at this moment. His lack of intelligence and a certain crude sensitiveness in his nature made him take umbrage at what appeared to him a very unnecessary question. He answered it with a shake of the head only. Muller smiled at the young man's ill-concealed indignation and paid no attention to it.

　　"Your master has been here for about a year. Where was he before that？"

　　"In the capital."

　　"You were in his service then？"

　　"I have been with him for three years."

　　"Did he know any ladies in his former home？"

　　"There was one - I think he was engaged to her."

　　"Why didn't he marry her？"

　　"I don't know."

　　"What was her name？"

　　"Marie. That's all I know about it."

　　"Was she beautiful？"

　　"I never saw her. The only way I knew about her was when the Professor's friends spoke of her."

　　"Did he have many friends？"

　　"There were ever so many gentlemen whom he called his friends."

　　"Take me into the garden now."

　　"Yes， sir." Muller took his hat and coat and followed the valet into the garden. It was of considerable size， carefully and attractively planned， and pleasing even now when the bare twigs bent under their load of snow.

　　"Now think carefully， Johann. We had a full moon last night. Don't you remember seeing any footsteps in the garden， leading away from the house？" asked Muller， as they stood on the snow-covered paths.

　　Johann thought it over carefully， then said decidedly， "No. At least I don't remember anything of the kind. There was a strong wind yesterday anyway， and the snow drifts easily out here. No tracks could remain clear for long."

　　The men walked down the straight path which led to the little gate in the high wall. This gate had a secret lock， which， however， was neither hard to find nor hard to open. Muller managed it with ease， and looked out through the gate on the street beyond. The broad promenade， deserted now in its winter snowiness， led away in one direction to the heart of the city. In the other it ended in the main county high-road. This was a broad， well-made turnpike， with footpath and rows of trees. A half-hour's walk along it would bring one to the little village clustering about the Archduke's favourite hunting castle. There was a little railway station near the castle， but it was used only by suburban trains or for the royal private car.

　　Muller did not intend to burden his brain with unnecessary facts， so with his usual thoroughness he left the further investigation of what lay beyond the gate， until he had searched the garden thoroughly. But even for his sharp eyes there was no trace to be found that would tell of the night visit of the murderer.

　　"In which of the pails did you put the key to the side door？" he asked.

　　"In the first pail on the right hand side. But be careful， sir； there's a nail sticking out of the post there. The wind tore off a piece of wood yesterday."

　　The warning came too late. Muller's sleeve tore apart with a sharp sound just as Johann spoke， for the detective had already plunged his hand into the pail. The bottom of the bucket was easy to reach， as this one hung much lower than the others. Looking regretfully at the rent in his coat， Muller asked for needle and thread that he might repair it sufficiently to get home.

　　"Oh， don't bother about sewing it； I'll lend you one of mine，" exclaimed Johann. "I'll carry this one home for you， for I'm not going to stay here alone - I'd be afraid. I'm going to a friend's house. You can find me there any time you need me. You'd better take the key of the apartment and give it to the police."

　　The detective had no particular fondness for the task of sewing， and he was glad to accept the valet's friendly offering. He was rather astonished at the evident costliness of the garment the young man handed him， and when he spoke of it， the valet could not say enough in praise of the kindness of his late master. He pulled out several other articles of clothing， which， like the overcoat， had been given to him by Fellner. Then he packed up a few necessities and announced himself as ready to start. He insisted on carrying the torn coat， and Muller permitted it after some protest. They carefully closed the apartment and the house， and walked toward the centre of the city to the police station， where Muller lived.

　　As they crossed the square， it suddenly occurred to Johann that he had no tobacco. He was a great smoker， and as he had many days of enforced idleness ahead of him， he ran into a tobacco shop to purchase a sufficiency of this necessity of life.