the lamp that went out-第18部分

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perhaps；　but　who　had　none　of　the　freshness　and　vigour　of　youth。
The　scanty　hair；　the　sunken　temples；　and　the　faded　skin；　emphasised
the　look　of　dissipation　given　by　the　lines　about　the　sensual　mouth
and　the　shifty　eyes。

〃Well；　say；　can't　your　master　find　anything　better　to　paint　than　a
face　like　that？〃　　Muller　asked　with　a　laugh。

〃Goodness　me！　　you　mustn't　say　such　things！〃　　exclaimed　Franz　in
alarm；　〃that's　the　Madam's　brother。　　He's　an　officer；　I'd　have　you
know。　　It's　true；　he　doesn't　look　like　much　there；　but　that's
because　he's　not　in　uniform。　　It　makes　such　a　difference。〃

〃Is　the　lady　anything　like　her　brother？〃　　asked　the　detective
indifferently；　bending　to　examine　the　wiring。

〃Oh；　dear；　no；　not　a　bit；　they're　as　different　as　day　and　night。
He's　only　her　half…brother　anyway。　　She　was　the　daughter　of　the
Colonel's　second　wife。　　Our　Madam　is　the　sweetest；　gentlest　lady
you　can　imagine；　an　angel　of　goodness。　　But　the　Lieutenant　here
has　always　been　a　care　to　his　family；　they　say。　　I　guess　he's
quieted　down　a　bit　now；　for　his　father　…　he's　Colonel　Leining；
retired　…　made　him　get　exchanged　from　the　city　to　a　small　garrison
town。　　There's　nothing　much　to　do　in　Marburg；　I　dare　say　…　well！
you　are　a　merry　sort；　aren't　you？〃　　These　last　words；　spoken　in　a
tone　of　surprise；　were　called　forth　by　a　sudden　sharp　whistle　from
the　detective；　a　whistle　which　went　off　into　a　few　merry　bars。

A　sudden　whistle　like　that　from　Muller's　lips　was　something　that
made　the　Imperial　Police　Force　sit　up　and　take　notice；　for　it　meant
that　things　were　happening；　and　that　the　happenings　were　likely　to
become　exciting。　　It　was　a　habit　he　could　control　only　by　the
severest　effort　of　the　will；　an　effort　which　he　kept　for　occasions
when　it　was　absolutely　necessary。　　Here；　alone　with　the　harmless
old　man；　he　was　not　so　much　on　his　guard；　and　the　sudden　vibrating
of　every　nerve　at　the　word　〃Marburg；〃　　found　vent　in　the　whistle
which　surprised　old　Franz。　　One　young　police　commissioner　with　a
fancy　for　metaphor　had　likened　this　sudden　involuntary　whistle　of
Muller's　to　the　bay　of　the　hound　when　he　strikes　the　trail；　which
was　about　what　it　was。

〃Yes；　I　am　merry　sometimes；〃　　he　said　with　a　laugh。　　〃It's　a　habit
I　have。　　Something　occurred　to　me　just　then；　something　I　had
forgotten。　　Hope　you　don't　mind。〃

〃Oh；　no；　there's　no　one　here　now；　whistle　all　you　like。〃

But　Muller's　whistle　was　not　a　continuous　performance；　and　he　had
now　completely　mastered　the　excitation　of　his　nerves　which　had
called　it　forth。　　He　threw　another　sharp　look　at　the　picture　of　the
man　who　lived　in　Marburg；　and　then　asked：　〃And　now　where　is　the
button？〃

〃By　the　window　there；　beside　the　desk。〃　　Franz　led　the　way　with
his　candle。

〃Why；　how　funny！　　What　are　those　mirrors　there　for？〃　　asked　the
electrician　in　a　tone　of　surprise；　pointing　to　two　small　mirrors
hanging　in　the　window　niche。　　They　were　placed　at　a　height　and　at
such　a　peculiar　angle　that　no　one　could　possibly　see　his　face
in　them。

〃Something　the　master　is　experimenting　with；　I　guess。　　He's　always
making　queer　experiments；　he　knows　a　lot　about　scientific　things。〃

Muller　shook　his　head　as　if　in　wonderment；　and　bent　to　investigate
the　button　which　was　fastened　into　the　wall　beneath　the　window　sill。
His　quick　ear　heard　a　carriage　stopping　in　front　of　the　house；　and
heard　the　closing　of　the　front　door　a　moment　later。　　To　facilitate
his　examination　of　the　button；　the　detective　had　seated　himself　in
the　armchair　which　stood　beside　the　desk。　　He　half　raised　himself
now　to　let　the　light　of　the　candle　fall　more　clearly　on　the　wiring
…　then　he　started　up　altogether　and　threw　a　hasty　glance　at　the
mirrors　above　his　head。　　A　ray　of　light　had　suddenly　flashed　down
upon　him　…　a　ray　of　red　light；　and　it　came　reflected　from　the
mirrors。　　Muller　bit　his　lips　to　keep　back　the　betraying　whistle。

〃What's　the　matter？〃　　asked　the　butler。　　〃Did　you　drop　anything？〃

〃Yes；　the　wooden　rim　of　the　button；〃　　replied　Muller；　telling　the
truth　this　time。　　For　he　had　held　the　little　wooden　circlet　in　his
hands　at　the　moment　when　the　red　light；　reflected　down　from　the
mirrors；　struck　full　upon　his　eyes。　　He　had　dropped　it　in　his
surprise　and　excitement。　　Franz　found　the　little　ring　in　the　centre
of　the　room　where　it　had　rolled；　and　the　supposed　electrician
replaced　it　and　rose　to　his　feet；　saying：　〃There；　I've　finished　now。〃

Franz　did　not　recognise　the　double　meaning　in　the　words。　　〃Yes；　it's
all　right！　　I've　finished　here　now；〃　Muller　repeated　to　himself。
For　now　he　knew　beyond　a　doubt　that　the　red　light　was　a　signal　…　and
he　knew　also　for　whom　this　signal　was　intended。　　It　was　a　signal　for
Herbert　Thorne！　…　Herbert　Thorne；　whom　no　single　thought　or　suspicion
of　Muller's　had　yet　connected　with　the　murder　of　Leopold　Winkler。

The　detective　was　very　much　surprised　and　greatly　excited。　　But
Franz　did　not　notice　it；　and　indeed　a　far　keener　observer　than　the
slow…witted　old　butler　might　have　failed　to　see　the　sudden　gleam
which　shot　up　in　the　grey　eyes　behind　the　heavy　spectacles；　might
have　failed　to　notice　the　tightening　of　the　lips　beneath　the　blond
moustache；　or　the　tenseness　of　the　slight　frame　under　the　assumed
embonpoint。　　Muller's　every　nerve　was　tingling；　but　he　had　himself
completely　in　hand。

〃What　do　we　owe　you？〃　　asked　Franz。

〃They'll　send　you　a　bill　from　the　office。　　It　won't　amount　to　much。
I　must　be　getting　on　now。〃

Muller　hastened　out　of　the　door　and　down　the　street　to　the　nearest
cab　stand。　　There　were　not　very　many　cab　stands　in　this　vicinity；
and　the　detective　reasoned　that　Mrs。　Bernauer　would　naturally　have
taken　her　cab　from　the　nearest　station。　　He　had　heard　her　return　in
her　carriage；　presumably　the　same　in　which　she　had　started　out。

There　was　but　one　cab　at　the　stand。　　Muller　walked　to　it　and　laid
his　hand　on　the　door。

〃Oh；　Jimmy！　　must　I　go　out　again？〃　　asked　the　driver　hoarsely。
〃Can't　you　see　the　poor　beast　is　all　wet　from　the　last　ride？　　We've
just　come　in。〃　　He　pointed　with　his　whip　to　the　tired…looking　animal
under　his　blanket。

〃Why；　he　does　look　warm。　　You　must　have　been　making　a　tour　out　into
the　country；〃　　said　the　blond　gentleman　in　a　friendly　tone。

〃No；　sir；　not　quite　so　far　as　that。　　I've　just　taken　a　woman　to　the
main　telegraph　office　in　the　city　and　back　again。　　But　she　was　in　a
hurry　and　he's　not　a　young　horse；　sir。〃

〃Well；　never　mind；　then；　I　can　get　another　cab　across　the　bridge；〃
replied　the　stout　blond　man；　turning　away　and　strolling　off　leisurely
in　the　direction　of　the　bridge。　　It　was　now　quite　dark；　and　a　few
steps　further　on　Muller　could　safely　turn　and　take　the　road　to　his
own　lodging。　　No　one　saw　him　go　in；　and　in　a　few　moments　the　real
Muller；　slight；　smooth…shaven；　sat　down　at　his　desk；　looking　at　the
papers　that　lay　before　him。　　They　were　three　letters　and　an　empty
envelope。

He　took　up　the　last；　and　compared　it　carefully　with　the　envelope　of
one　of　the　letters　found　in　Winkler's　room　…　the　unsigned　letter
postmarked　Hietzing；　September　24th。　　The　two　envelopes　were　exactly
alike。　　They　were　of　the　same　size　and　shape；　made　of　the　same
cream…tinted；　heavy；　glossy　paper；　and　the　address　was　written　by
the　same　hand。　　This　any　keen　observer；　who　need　not　necessarily　be
an　expert；　could　see。　　The　same　hand　which　had　addressed　the
envelope　to　Mrs。　Adele　Bernauer　on　the　letter　which　was　postmarked
〃Venice；〃　　about　thirty…six　hours　previous　…　this　hand　had；　in　an
awkward　and　childish　attempt　at　disguise；　written　Winkler's　address
on　the　envelope　which　bore　the　date　of　September　24th。

The　writer　of　the　harmless　letter　to　Mrs。　Bernauer；　a　letter　which
chatted　of　household　topics　and　touched　lightly　on　the　beauties　of
Venice；　was　Mrs。　Thorne。　　It　was　Mrs。　Thorne；　therefore；　who；
reluctantly　and　in　anger　and　distaste；　had　called　Leopold　Winkler
to　Hietzing；　to　his　death。

And　whose　hand　had　fired　the　shot　that　caused　his　death？　　The
question；　at　this　stage　in　Muller's　meditation；　could　hardly　be
called　a　question　any　more。　　It　was　all　too　sadly　clear　to　him　now。
Winkler　met　his　death　at　the　hand　of　the　husband；　who；　discovering
the　planned　rendezvous；　had　misunderstood　its　motive。

For　truly　this　had　been　no　lovers'　meeting。　　It　had　been　a　meeting
to　which　the　woman　was　driven　by　fear　and　hate；　the　man　by　greed　of
gain。　　This　was　clearly　proved　by　the　300　guldens　found　in　the　dead
man's　pocket；　money　enclosed　in　a　delicate　little　envelope；　sealed
hastily；　and　crumpled　as　if　it　had　been　carried　in　a　hot　and
trembling　hand。

It　was　already　known　that　Winkler　never　had　any　money　except　at
certain　irregular　intervals；　when　he　appeared　to　have　come　into
possession　of　considerable　sums。　　During　these　days　he　indulged　in
extravagant　pleasures　and　spent　his　money　with　a　recklessness　which
proved　that　he　had　not　earned　it　by　honest　work。

Leopold　Winkler　was　a　blackmailer。

Colonel　Leining；　retired；　the　father　of　two　such　widely　different
children；　was　doubtless　a　man　of　stern　principles；　and　an　army
officer　as　well；　therefore　a　man　with　a　doubly　sensitive　code　of
honour　and　a　social　position　to　maintain；　and　this　man；　morbidly
sensitive　probably；　had　a　daughter　who　had　inherited　his
sensitiveness　and　his　high　ideals　of　honour；　a　daughter　married　to
a　rich　husband。　　But　he　had　another　child；　a　son　without　any　sense
of　honour　at　all；　who；　although　also　an　officer；　failed　to　live　in
a　manner　worthy　his　position。　　This　son　was　now　in　Marburg；　where
there　were　no　expensive　pleasures；　no　all…night　cafes　and　gambling
dens；　for　a　man　to　lose　his　time　in；　his　money；　and　his　honour　also。

For　such　must　have　been　the　case　with　Colonel　Leining's　son　before
his　exile　to　Marburg。　　The　old　butler　had　hinted　at　the　truth。　　The
portrait　drawn　by　Herbert　Thorne；　a　picture　of　such　technical
excellence　that　it　was　doubtless　a　good　likeness　also；　had　given　an
ugly　illustration　to　Franz's　remarks。　　And　there　was　something　even
more　tangible　to　prove　it：　〃Theo's〃　　letter　from　Marburg　pleading
with　Winkler　for　〃discretion　and　silence；〃　　not　knowing　（〃let　us
hope　he　did　not　know！〃　　murmured　Muller　between　set　teeth）　that　the
man　who　held　him　in　his　power　beca