The Case of The Pocket Diary Found in the Snow [10]
with the commissioner. It was snowing heavily, and an icy north wind was howling through the streets. Muller turned up the collar of his coat and walked on quickly. It was just striking a quarter to twelve when he reached Cathedral Lane. As he walked slowly along the moonlit side of the pavement, a man stepped out of the shadow to meet him. It was the policeman who had been sent to watch the house. Like Muller, he wore plain clothes.
"Well?" the latter asked.
"Nothing new. Mr. Fellner has been ill in bed several days, quite seriously ill, they tell me. The janitor seems very fond of him.
"Hm - we'll see what sort of a man he is. You can go back to the station now, you must be nearly frozen standing here."
Muller looked carefully at the house which bore the number 14. It was a handsome, old-fashioned building, a true patrician mansion which looked worthy of all confidence. But Muller knew that the outside of a house has very little to do with the honesty of the people who live in it. He rang the bell carefully, as he wished no one but the janitor to hear him.
The latter did not seem at all surprised to find a stranger asking for the owner of the house at so late an hour. "You come with a telegram, I suppose? Come right up stairs then, I have orders to let you in."
These were the words with which the old janitor greeted Muller. The detective could see from this that Mr. Theodore Fellner's conscience must be perfectly clear. The expected telegram probably had something to do with the non-appearance of Asta Langen, of whose terrible fate her guardian evidently as yet knew nothing. The janitor knocked on one of the doors, which was opened in a few moments by an old woman.
"Is it the telegram?" she asked sleepily.
"Yes" said the janitor.
"No," said Muller, "but I want to speak to Mr. Fellner."
The two old people stared at him in surprise.
"To speak to him?" said the woman, and shook her head as if in doubt. "Is it about Miss Langen?"
"Yes, please wake him."
"But he is ill, and the doctor - "
"Please wake him up. I will take the responsibility."
"But who are you?" asked the janitor.
Muller smiled a little at this belated caution on the part of the old man, and answered. "I will tell Mr. Fellner who I am. But please announce me at once. It concerns the young lady." His expression was so grave that the woman waited no longer, but let him in and then disappeared through another door. The janitor stood and looked at Muller with half distrustful, half anxious glances.
"It's no good news you bring," he said after a few minutes.
"You may be right."
"Has anything happened to our dear young lady?"
"Then you know Miss Asta Langen and her family?"
"Why, of course. I was in service on the estate when all the dreadful things happened."
"What things?"
"Why the divorce - and - but you are a stranger and I shouldn't talk about these family affairs to you. You had better tell me what has happened to our young lady."
"I must tell that to your master first."
The woman came back at this moment and said to Muller, "Come with me, please. Berner, you are to stay here until the gentleman goes out again."
Muller followed her through several rooms into a large bed-chamber where he found an elderly man, very evidently ill, lying in bed.
"Who are you?" asked the sick man, raising his head from the pillow. The woman had gone out and closed the door behind her.
"My name is Muller, police detective. Here are my credentials."
Fellner glanced hastily at the paper. "Why does the police send to me?"
"It concerns your ward."
Fellner sat upright in bed now. He leaned over towards his visitor as he said, pointing to a letter on the table beside his bed, "Asta's overseer writes me from her estate that she left home on the 18th of November to visit me. She should have reached here on the evening of the 18th, and she has not arrived yet. I did not receive this letter until to-day."
"Did you expect the young lady?"
"I knew only that she would
"Well?" the latter asked.
"Nothing new. Mr. Fellner has been ill in bed several days, quite seriously ill, they tell me. The janitor seems very fond of him.
"Hm - we'll see what sort of a man he is. You can go back to the station now, you must be nearly frozen standing here."
Muller looked carefully at the house which bore the number 14. It was a handsome, old-fashioned building, a true patrician mansion which looked worthy of all confidence. But Muller knew that the outside of a house has very little to do with the honesty of the people who live in it. He rang the bell carefully, as he wished no one but the janitor to hear him.
The latter did not seem at all surprised to find a stranger asking for the owner of the house at so late an hour. "You come with a telegram, I suppose? Come right up stairs then, I have orders to let you in."
These were the words with which the old janitor greeted Muller. The detective could see from this that Mr. Theodore Fellner's conscience must be perfectly clear. The expected telegram probably had something to do with the non-appearance of Asta Langen, of whose terrible fate her guardian evidently as yet knew nothing. The janitor knocked on one of the doors, which was opened in a few moments by an old woman.
"Is it the telegram?" she asked sleepily.
"Yes" said the janitor.
"No," said Muller, "but I want to speak to Mr. Fellner."
The two old people stared at him in surprise.
"To speak to him?" said the woman, and shook her head as if in doubt. "Is it about Miss Langen?"
"Yes, please wake him."
"But he is ill, and the doctor - "
"Please wake him up. I will take the responsibility."
"But who are you?" asked the janitor.
Muller smiled a little at this belated caution on the part of the old man, and answered. "I will tell Mr. Fellner who I am. But please announce me at once. It concerns the young lady." His expression was so grave that the woman waited no longer, but let him in and then disappeared through another door. The janitor stood and looked at Muller with half distrustful, half anxious glances.
"It's no good news you bring," he said after a few minutes.
"You may be right."
"Has anything happened to our dear young lady?"
"Then you know Miss Asta Langen and her family?"
"Why, of course. I was in service on the estate when all the dreadful things happened."
"What things?"
"Why the divorce - and - but you are a stranger and I shouldn't talk about these family affairs to you. You had better tell me what has happened to our young lady."
"I must tell that to your master first."
The woman came back at this moment and said to Muller, "Come with me, please. Berner, you are to stay here until the gentleman goes out again."
Muller followed her through several rooms into a large bed-chamber where he found an elderly man, very evidently ill, lying in bed.
"Who are you?" asked the sick man, raising his head from the pillow. The woman had gone out and closed the door behind her.
"My name is Muller, police detective. Here are my credentials."
Fellner glanced hastily at the paper. "Why does the police send to me?"
"It concerns your ward."
Fellner sat upright in bed now. He leaned over towards his visitor as he said, pointing to a letter on the table beside his bed, "Asta's overseer writes me from her estate that she left home on the 18th of November to visit me. She should have reached here on the evening of the 18th, and she has not arrived yet. I did not receive this letter until to-day."
"Did you expect the young lady?"
"I knew only that she would