The Case of the Golden Bullet [14]
do, so she obediently went through the basket again and found a little box in which were several pair of grey suede gloves, fastened by bluish mother-of-pearl buttons. One of the pairs had been worn, and a button was missing.
"These are the ones I was looking for," said the peddler, putting the gloves in his pocket. Then he continued: "Your mistress was rather fond of taking long walks by herself, wasn't she?"
The girl's pale face flushed hotly and she stammered: "You know - about it?"
"You know about it also, I see. And did you know everything?"
"Yes, everything," murmured Nanette.
"Then it was you and Tristan who accompanied the lady on her walks?"
"Yes."
"I supposed she must have taken some one into her confidence. Well, and what do you think about the murder?"
"The Professor?" replied Nanette hastily. "Why, what should I know about it?"
"The Councillor was greatly excited and very unhappy when he discovered this affair, I suppose?"
"He is still."
"And how did he act after the - let us call it the accident?"
"He was like a crazy man."
"They tell me that he went about his duties just the same - that he went away on business."
"It wasn't business this time, at least not professional business. But before that he did have to go away frequently for weeks at a time."
"And it was then that your mistress was most interested in her lonely walks, eh?"
"Yes." Nanette's voice was so low as to be scarcely heard.
"Well, and this time?" continued the peddler. "Why did he go away this time?"
"He went to the capital on private business of his own."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Quite sure. He went two different times. I thought it was because he couldn't stand it here and wanted to see something different. He went to his club this evening, too."
"And when did he go away?"
"The first time was the day after his wife was buried."
"And the second time?"
Two or three days after his return."
"How long did he stay away the first time?"
"Only one day."
"Good! Pull yourself together now. I'll send your George in to you and tell him you haven't been feeling well. Don't tell any one about our conversation. Where is the kitchen?"
"The last door to the right down the hall."
The peddler left the room and Nanette sank down dazed and trembling on the nearest chair. George found her still pale, but he seemed to think it quite natural that she should have been overcome by the recollection of the terrible death of her mistress. He gave the old man a most cordial invitation to return during the next few days. The cook brought the peddler a cup of steaming tea, and purchased several trifles from him, before he left the house.
When the old man had reached a lonely spot on the road, about half way between the hunting castle and the city, he halted, set down his pack, divested himself of his beard and his wig and washed the wrinkles from his face with a handful of snow from the wayside. A quarter of an hour later, Detective Muller entered the railway station of the city, burdened with a large grip. He took a seat in the night express which rolled out from the station a few moments later. As he was alone in his compartment, Muller gave way to his excitement, sometimes even murmuring half-aloud the thoughts that rushed through his brain. "Yes, I am convinced of it, but can I find the proofs?" the words came again and again, and in spite of the comfortable warmth in the compartment, in spite of his tired and half-frozen condition, he could not sleep.
He reached the capital at midnight and took a room in a small hotel in a quiet street. When he went out next morning, the servants looked after him with suspicion, as in their opinion a man who spent most of the night pacing up and down his room must surely have a guilty conscience.
Muller went to police headquarters and looked through the arrivals at the hotels on the 21st of November. The burial of Mrs. Kniepp had taken place on the 20th. Muller soon found the name he was looking for, "Forest Councillor
"These are the ones I was looking for," said the peddler, putting the gloves in his pocket. Then he continued: "Your mistress was rather fond of taking long walks by herself, wasn't she?"
The girl's pale face flushed hotly and she stammered: "You know - about it?"
"You know about it also, I see. And did you know everything?"
"Yes, everything," murmured Nanette.
"Then it was you and Tristan who accompanied the lady on her walks?"
"Yes."
"I supposed she must have taken some one into her confidence. Well, and what do you think about the murder?"
"The Professor?" replied Nanette hastily. "Why, what should I know about it?"
"The Councillor was greatly excited and very unhappy when he discovered this affair, I suppose?"
"He is still."
"And how did he act after the - let us call it the accident?"
"He was like a crazy man."
"They tell me that he went about his duties just the same - that he went away on business."
"It wasn't business this time, at least not professional business. But before that he did have to go away frequently for weeks at a time."
"And it was then that your mistress was most interested in her lonely walks, eh?"
"Yes." Nanette's voice was so low as to be scarcely heard.
"Well, and this time?" continued the peddler. "Why did he go away this time?"
"He went to the capital on private business of his own."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Quite sure. He went two different times. I thought it was because he couldn't stand it here and wanted to see something different. He went to his club this evening, too."
"And when did he go away?"
"The first time was the day after his wife was buried."
"And the second time?"
Two or three days after his return."
"How long did he stay away the first time?"
"Only one day."
"Good! Pull yourself together now. I'll send your George in to you and tell him you haven't been feeling well. Don't tell any one about our conversation. Where is the kitchen?"
"The last door to the right down the hall."
The peddler left the room and Nanette sank down dazed and trembling on the nearest chair. George found her still pale, but he seemed to think it quite natural that she should have been overcome by the recollection of the terrible death of her mistress. He gave the old man a most cordial invitation to return during the next few days. The cook brought the peddler a cup of steaming tea, and purchased several trifles from him, before he left the house.
When the old man had reached a lonely spot on the road, about half way between the hunting castle and the city, he halted, set down his pack, divested himself of his beard and his wig and washed the wrinkles from his face with a handful of snow from the wayside. A quarter of an hour later, Detective Muller entered the railway station of the city, burdened with a large grip. He took a seat in the night express which rolled out from the station a few moments later. As he was alone in his compartment, Muller gave way to his excitement, sometimes even murmuring half-aloud the thoughts that rushed through his brain. "Yes, I am convinced of it, but can I find the proofs?" the words came again and again, and in spite of the comfortable warmth in the compartment, in spite of his tired and half-frozen condition, he could not sleep.
He reached the capital at midnight and took a room in a small hotel in a quiet street. When he went out next morning, the servants looked after him with suspicion, as in their opinion a man who spent most of the night pacing up and down his room must surely have a guilty conscience.
Muller went to police headquarters and looked through the arrivals at the hotels on the 21st of November. The burial of Mrs. Kniepp had taken place on the 20th. Muller soon found the name he was looking for, "Forest Councillor