attempt at a joke.

  "The ring, the ring on your watch chain," murmured Muller.

  "It belonged to my dead wife. I have worn it since she left me,"answered the unhappy man with the same iron calm with which he had, allthese past days, been emphasizing his love for the woman he had lost.Yet the question touched him unpleasantly and he looked more sharply atthe strange man over in the corner. He saw the latter's face turn paleand a shiver run through his form. A feeling of sympathy came overKniepp and he asked warmly: "Won't you take a glass of this wine? If youhave been out in the cold it will be good for you." His tone was gentle,almost cordial, but the man to whom he offered the refreshment turnedfrom him with a gesture that was almost one of terror.

  The Councillor rose suddenly from his chair. "Who are you? What news isit you bring?" he asked with a voice that began to tremble.

  Muller raised his head sharply as if his decision had been made, and hiskind intelligent eyes grew soft as they rested on the pale face ofthe stately man before him. "I belong to the Secret Police and Iam compelled to find out the secrets of others--not because of myprofession--no, because my own nature compels me--I must do it. I havejust come from Vienna and I bring the last of the proofs necessary toturn you over to the courts. And yet you are a thousand times betterthan the coward who stole the honour of your wife and who hid behindthe shelter of the law--and therefore, therefore, therefore--" Muller'svoice grew hoarse, then died away altogether.

  Kniepp listened with pallid cheeks but without a quiver. Now he spoke,completing the other's words: "And therefore you wish to save me fromthe prison or from the gallows? I thank you. What is your name?" Theunhappy man spoke as calmly as if the matter scarcely concerned him atall.

  The detective told him his name.

  "Muller, Muller," repeated the Councillor, as if he were particularlyanxious to remember the name. He held out his hand to the detective."I thank you, indeed, thank you," he said with the first signof emotion he had shown, and then added low: "Do not fear that you willhave trouble on my account. They can find me in my home." With thesewords he turned away and sat down in his chair again. When Bauer enteredthe room a few moments later, Kniepp was smoking calmly.

  "Now, Muller, I'm ready. Horn will be in in a moment, friend Kniepp; Iknow you will enjoy his chatter." The chief led the way out of the roomthrough another door. He could not see the ghastly pale face of theguest he left behind him, for it was almost hidden in a cloud of thicksmoke, but Muller turned back once more at the threshold and caughta last grateful glance from eyes shadowed by deep sadness, as theCouncillor raised his hand in a friendly gesture.

  "Dear Muller, you take so long to get at the point of the story! Don'tyou see you are torturing me?" This outburst came from the Chiefabout an hour later. But the detective would not permit himself to beinterrupted in spinning out his story in his own way, and it was nearlyanother hour before Bauer knew that the man for whose name he had beenwaiting so long was Leo Kniepp.

  The knowledge came as a terrible surprise to him. He was dazed almost."And I,--I've got to arrest him in my own house?" he exclaimed as ifhorrified. And Muller answered calmly: "I doubt if you will have theopportunity, sir."

  "Muller! Did you, again--"

  "Yes, I did! I have again warned an unfortunate. It's my nature, Ican't seem to help it. But you will find the Councillor in his house. Hepromised me that."

  "And you believe it?"

  "That man will keep his promise," said Muller quietly.

  Councillor Kniepp did keep his promise. When the police arrived at thehunting castle shortly after midnight, they found the terrified servantsstanding by the body of their master.

  "Well, Muller, you had better luck than you deserved this time," Bauersaid a few days later. "This last trick has made you quite impossiblefor the service. But you needn't worry about that, because the legacyKniepp left you will put you out of reach of want."

  The detective was as much surprised as anybody. He was as if dazed byhis unexpected good fortune. The day before he was a poor man bowedunder the weight of sordid cares, and now he was the possessor of twentythousand gulden. And it was not his clever brain but his warm heart thathad won this fortune for him. His breast swelled with gratitude as hethought of the unhappy man whose life had been ruined by the carelesscruelty of others and his own passions. Again and again he read theletter which had been found on Kniepp's desk, addressed to him and whichhad been handed out to him after the inquest.

  My friend:--

  You have saved me from the shame of an open trial. I thank you for this from the very depth of my heart. I have left you a part of my own private fortune, that you may be a free man, free as a poor man never can be. You can accept this present for it comes from the hand of an honest man in spite of all. Yes, I compelled my wife to go to her death after I had compelled her to confess her shame to me, and I entered her lover's house with the knowledge I had forced from her. When I looked through the keyhole and saw his false face before me, I murdered him in cold blood. Then, that the truth might not be suspected, I continued to play the sorrowing husband. I wore on my watch chain the ring I had had made in imitation of the one my wife had worn. This original ring of hers, her wedding ring which she had defiled, I sent in the form of a bullet straight to her lover's heart. Yes, I have committed a crime, but I feel that I am less criminal than those two whom I judged and condemned, and whose sentence I carried out as I now shall carry out my own sentence with a hand which will not tremble. That I can do this myself, I have you to thank for, you who can look into the souls of men and recognise the most hidden motives, you who have not only a wonderful brain but a heart that can feel. You, I hope, will sometimes think kindly of your grateful

  LEO KNIEPP.

  Muller kept this letter as one of his most sacred treasures.

  The "Kniepp Case" was really, as Bauer had predicted, the last inMuller's public career. Even the friendliness of the kind old chiefcould not keep him in his position after this new display of theunreliability of his heart. But his quiet tastes allowed him to live inhumble comfort from the income of his little fortune.

  Every now and then letters or telegrams will come for him and he willdisappear for several days. His few friends believe that the policeauthorities, who refused to employ him publicly owing to his strangeweakness, cannot resist a private appeal to his talent whenever aparticularly difficult case arises.

 
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