The Case of The Pocket Diary Found in the Snow [15]
with grey. She had never seen his eyes, for he wore smoked glasses.
"Did you notice anything peculiar about his face?"
"No, nothing except that his beard was ver heavy and almost covered his face."
"Could you see his cheeks at all?"
"No, or else I didn't notice."
"Did he leave nothing that might enable us to find him?"
"No, sir, nothing. Or yes, perhaps, but I don't suppose that will be any good."
"What was it? What do you mean?"
"It gave him a good deal of trouble to get the lady into the wagon, because she had fainted again. He lost his glove in doing it. I have it down stairs in my room, for I sleep down stairs again since the lady has gone."
Muller had risen from his chair and walked over to the old writing desk which stood beside one window. There were several sheets of ordinary brown paper on it and sharp pointed pencil and also something not usually found on writing desks, a piece of bread from which some of the inside had been taken. "Everything as I expected it" he said to himself. "The young lady made up the package in the last few moments that she was left alone here."
He turned again to the old woman and commanded her to lead him down stairs. "What sort of a carriage was it in which they took the lady away?" he asked as they went down.
"A closed coupe."
"Did you see the number?"
"No, sir. But the carriage was very shabby and so was the driver."
"Was he an old man?"
"He was about forty years old, but he looked like a man who drank. He had a light-coloured overcoat on."
"Good. Is this your room?"
"Yes, sir."
They were now in the lower corridor, where they found Amster walking up and down. The woman opened the door of the little room, and took a glove from a cupboard. Muller put it in his pocket and told the woman not to leave the house for anything, as she might be sent for to come to the police station at any moment. Then he went out into the street with Amster. When they were outside in the sunlight, he looked at the glove. It was a remarkably small size, made for a man with a slender, delicate hand, not at all in accordance with the large stout body of the man described by the landlady. Muller put his hand into the glove and found something pushed up into the middle finger. He took it out and found that it was a crumpled tramway ticket.
"Look out for a shabby old closed coupe, with a driver about forty years old who looks like a drunkard and wears a light overcoat. If you find such a cab, engage it and drive in it to the nearest police station. Tell them there to hold the man until further notice. If the cab is not free, at least take his number. And one thing more, but you will know that yourself, - the cab we are looking for will have new glass in the right-hand window." Thus Muller spoke to his companion as he put the glove into his pocket and unfolded the tramway ticket. Amster understood that they had found the starting point of the drive of the night before.
"I will go to all coupe stands," he said eagerly.
"Yes, but we may be able to find it quicker than that." Muller took the little notebook, which he was now carrying in his pocket, and took from it the tramway ticket which was in the cover. He compared it with the one he had just found. They were both marked for the same hour of the day and for the same ride.
"Did the man use them?" asked Amster. The detective nodded. "How can they help us?"
"Somewhere on this stretch of the street railroad you will probably find the stand of the cab we are looking for. The man who hired it evidently arrived on the 6:30 train at the West Station - I have reason to believe that he does not live here, - and then took the street car to this corner. The last ticket is marked for yesterday. In the car he probably made his plans to hire a cab. So you had better stay along the line of the car tracks. You will find me in room seven, Police Headquarters, at noon to-day. The authorities have already taken up the case. You may have something to tell us then. Good luck to you."
"Did you notice anything peculiar about his face?"
"No, nothing except that his beard was ver heavy and almost covered his face."
"Could you see his cheeks at all?"
"No, or else I didn't notice."
"Did he leave nothing that might enable us to find him?"
"No, sir, nothing. Or yes, perhaps, but I don't suppose that will be any good."
"What was it? What do you mean?"
"It gave him a good deal of trouble to get the lady into the wagon, because she had fainted again. He lost his glove in doing it. I have it down stairs in my room, for I sleep down stairs again since the lady has gone."
Muller had risen from his chair and walked over to the old writing desk which stood beside one window. There were several sheets of ordinary brown paper on it and sharp pointed pencil and also something not usually found on writing desks, a piece of bread from which some of the inside had been taken. "Everything as I expected it" he said to himself. "The young lady made up the package in the last few moments that she was left alone here."
He turned again to the old woman and commanded her to lead him down stairs. "What sort of a carriage was it in which they took the lady away?" he asked as they went down.
"A closed coupe."
"Did you see the number?"
"No, sir. But the carriage was very shabby and so was the driver."
"Was he an old man?"
"He was about forty years old, but he looked like a man who drank. He had a light-coloured overcoat on."
"Good. Is this your room?"
"Yes, sir."
They were now in the lower corridor, where they found Amster walking up and down. The woman opened the door of the little room, and took a glove from a cupboard. Muller put it in his pocket and told the woman not to leave the house for anything, as she might be sent for to come to the police station at any moment. Then he went out into the street with Amster. When they were outside in the sunlight, he looked at the glove. It was a remarkably small size, made for a man with a slender, delicate hand, not at all in accordance with the large stout body of the man described by the landlady. Muller put his hand into the glove and found something pushed up into the middle finger. He took it out and found that it was a crumpled tramway ticket.
"Look out for a shabby old closed coupe, with a driver about forty years old who looks like a drunkard and wears a light overcoat. If you find such a cab, engage it and drive in it to the nearest police station. Tell them there to hold the man until further notice. If the cab is not free, at least take his number. And one thing more, but you will know that yourself, - the cab we are looking for will have new glass in the right-hand window." Thus Muller spoke to his companion as he put the glove into his pocket and unfolded the tramway ticket. Amster understood that they had found the starting point of the drive of the night before.
"I will go to all coupe stands," he said eagerly.
"Yes, but we may be able to find it quicker than that." Muller took the little notebook, which he was now carrying in his pocket, and took from it the tramway ticket which was in the cover. He compared it with the one he had just found. They were both marked for the same hour of the day and for the same ride.
"Did the man use them?" asked Amster. The detective nodded. "How can they help us?"
"Somewhere on this stretch of the street railroad you will probably find the stand of the cab we are looking for. The man who hired it evidently arrived on the 6:30 train at the West Station - I have reason to believe that he does not live here, - and then took the street car to this corner. The last ticket is marked for yesterday. In the car he probably made his plans to hire a cab. So you had better stay along the line of the car tracks. You will find me in room seven, Police Headquarters, at noon to-day. The authorities have already taken up the case. You may have something to tell us then. Good luck to you."