The Case Of The Lamp That Went Out Part 13

"So he was called to a rendezvous in Hietzing, too," murmured Muller, then he added after a few moments: "But this rendezvous had nothing whatever to do with love."

There was nothing else in Winkler's room which could be of any value to Muller in the problem that was now before him. And yet he was very well satisfied with the result of his errand.

He entered his cab again, ordering the driver to take him to Hietzing.

Just before he had reached the corner where he had told the man to stop, another cab pa.s.sed them, a coupe, in which was a solitary woman. Muller had just time enough to recognise this woman as Adele Bernauer, and to see that she looked even more haggard and miserable than she had that morning. She did not look up as the other cab pa.s.sed her carriage, therefore she did not see Muller. The detective looked at his watch and saw that it was almost half-past four. The unexpected meeting changed, his plans for the afternoon. He had decided that he must enter the Thorne mansion again that very day, for he must find out the meaning of the red-shaded lamp. And now that the housekeeper was away it would be easier for him to get into the house, therefore it must be done at once.

His excuse was all ready, for he had been weighing possibilities.

He dismissed his cab a block from his own home and entered his house cautiously.

Muller's lodgings consisted of two large rooms, really much too large for a lone man who was at home so little. But Muller had engaged them at first sight, for the apartment possessed one qualification which was absolutely necessary for him. Its situation and the arrangement of its doors made it possible for him to enter and leave his rooms without being seen either by his own landlady or by the other lodgers in the house. The little apartment was on the ground floor, and Muller's own rooms had a separate entrance opening on to the main corridor almost immediately behind the door. Nine times out of ten, he could come and go without being seen by any one in the house. To-day was the first time, however, that Muller had had occasion to try this particular qualification of his new lodgings.

He opened the street door and slipped into his own room without having seen or been seen by any one.

Fifteen minutes later he left the apartment again, but left it such a changed man that n.o.body who had seen him go in would have recognised him. Before he came out, however, he looked about carefully to see whether there was any one in sight He came out unseen and was just closing the main door behind him, when he met the janitress.

"Were you looking for anybody in the house?" said the woman, glancing sharply at the stranger, who answered in a slightly veiled voice: "No, I made a mistake in the number. The place I am looking for is two houses further down."

He walked down the street and the woman looked after him until she saw him turn into the doorway of the second house. Then she went into her own rooms. The house Muller entered happened to be a corner house with an entrance on the other street, through which the detective pa.s.sed and went on his way. He was quite satisfied with the security of his disguise, for the woman who knew him well had not recognised him at all.

If his own janitress did not know him, the people in the Thorne house would never imagine it was he.

And indeed Muller was entirely changed. In actuality small and thin, with spa.r.s.e brown hair and smooth shaven face, he was now an inch or two taller and very much stouter. He wore thick curly blond hair, a little pointed blond beard and moustache. His eyes were hidden by heavy-rimmed spectacles.

It was just half-past five when he rang the bell at the entrance gate to the Thorne property. He had spent the intervening time in the cafe, as he was in no hurry to enter the house. Franz came down the path and opened the door. "'What do you want?" he asked.

"I come from Siemens & Halske; I was to ask whether the other man--"

"Has been here already?" interrupted Franz, adding in an irritated tone, "No, he hasn't been here at all."

"Well, I guess he didn't get through at the other place in time. I'll see what the trouble is," said the stranger, whom Franz naturally supposed to be the electrician, he opened the gate and asked the other to come in, leading him into the house. Under a cloudy sky the day was fading rapidly. Muller knew that it would not occur to the real electrician to begin any work as late as this, and that he was perfectly safe in the examination he wanted to make.

"Well, what's the trouble here? Why did you write to our firm?" asked the supposed electrician.

"The wires must cross somewhere, or there's something wrong with the bells. When the housekeeper touches the b.u.t.ton in her room to ring for the cook or the upstairs girl, the bell rings in Mr. Thorne's room. It starts ringing and it keeps up with a deuce of a noise. Fortunately the family are away."

"Well, we'll fix it all right for you. First of all I want to look at the b.u.t.ton in the housekeeper's room."

"I'll take you up there," said Franz.

They walked through the wide corridor, then turned into a shorter, darker hall and went up a narrow winding stairway. Franz halted before a door in the second story. It was the last of the three doors in the hall. Muller took off his hat as the door opened and murmured a "good-evening."

"There's no one there; Mrs. Bernaner's out."

"Has she gone away, too?" asked the electrician hastily.

Franz did not notice that there was a slight change in the stranger's voice at this question, and he answered calmly as ever: "Oh, no; she's just driven to town. I think she went to see the doctor who lives quite a distance away. She hasn't been feeling at all well. She took a cab to-day. I told her she ought to, as she wasn't well enough to go by the tram. She ought to be home any moment now."

"Well, I'll hurry up with the job so that I'll be out of the way when the lady comes," said Muller, as Franz led him to the misbehaving bell.

It was in the wall immediately above a large table which filled the window niche so completely that there was but scant s.p.a.ce left for the comfortable armchair that stood in front of it. The window was open and Muller leaned out, looking down at the garden below.

"What a fine old garden!" he exclaimed aloud. To himself he said: "This is the last window in the left wing. It is the window where Johann Knoll saw the red light."

And when he turned back into the room again he found the source of this light right at his hand on the handsome old table at which Mrs. Bernauer evidently spent many of her hours. A row of books stood against the wall, framing the back of the table. Well-worn volumes of the cla.s.sics among them gave proof that the one-time nurse was a woman of education.

A sewing basket and neat piles of house linen, awaiting repairs, covered a large part of the table-top, and beside them stood a gracefully shaped lamp, covered by a shade of soft red silk.

It took Muller but a few seconds to see all this. Then he set about his investigation of the electric b.u.t.ton. He unscrewed the plate and examined the wires meeting under it. While doing so he cast another glance at the table and saw a letter lying there, an open letter half out of its envelope. This envelope was of unusual shape, long and narrow, and the paper was heavy and high-glossed.

"Your housekeeper evidently has no secrets from the rest of you," Muller remarked with a laugh, still busy at the wires, "or she wouldn't leave her letters lying about like that."

"Oh, we've all heard what's in that letter," replied Franz. "She read it to us when it came this morning. It's from the Madam. She sent messages to all of us and orders, so Mrs. Bernauer read us the whole letter.

There's no secrets in that."

"The b.u.t.ton has been pressed in too far and caught down. That seems to be the main trouble," said Muller, readjusting the little k.n.o.b. "I'd like a candle here if I may have one."

"I'll get you a light at once," said Franz. But his intentions, however excellent, seemed difficult of fulfilment. It was rapidly growing dark, and the old butler peered about uncertainly. "Stupid," he muttered. "I don't know where she keeps the matches. I can't find them anywhere. I'm not a smoker, so I haven't any in my pocket."

"Nor I," said Muller calmly, letting his hand close protectingly over a new full box of them in his own pocket.

"I'll get you some from my own room," and Franz hurried away, his loose slippers clattering down the stairs. He was no sooner well out of the room than Muller had the letter in his hand and was standing close by the window to catch the fading light. But on the old servant's return the supposed electrician stood calmly awaiting the coming of the light, and the letter was back on the table half hidden by a piece of linen.

Franz did not notice that the envelope was missing. And the housekeeper, whose mind was so upset by the events of the day, and whose thoughts were on other more absorbing matters, would hardly be likely to remember whether she had returned this quite unimportant letter to its envelope or not.

Franz brought a lighted candle with him, and Muller, who really did possess a creditable knowledge of electricity, saw that the wires in the room were all in good condition. As he had seen at first, there was really nothing the matter except with the position of the b.u.t.ton. But it did not suit his purpose to enlighten Franz on the matter just yet.

"Now I'd better look at the wires in the gentleman's room," he said, when he had returned plate and b.u.t.ton to their place.

"Just as you say," replied Franz, taking up his candle and leading the way out into the hall and down the winding stair. They crossed the lower corridor, mounted another staircase and entered a large, handsomely furnished room, half studio, half library. The wall was covered with pictures and sketches, several easels stood piled up in the corner, and a broad table beside them held paint boxes, colour tubes, brushes, all the paraphernalia of the painter, now carefully ordered and covered for a term of idleness. Great bookcases towered to the ceiling, and a huge flat top desk, a costly piece of furniture, was covered with books and papers. It was the room of a man of brains and breeding, a man of talent and ability, possessing, furthermore, the means to indulge his tastes freely. Even now, with its master absent, the handsome apartment bore the impress of his personality. The detective's quick imagination called up the attractive, sympathetic figure of the man he had seen at the gate, as his quick eye took in the details of the room. All the charm of Herbert Thorne's personality, which the keen-sensed Muller had felt so strongly even in that fleeting glimpse of him, came back again here in the room which was his own little kingdom and the expression of his mentality.

"Well, what's the trouble here? Where are the wires?" asked the detective, after the momentary pause which had followed his entrance into the room. Franz led him to a spot on the wall hidden by a marquetry cabinet. "Here's the bell, it rings for several minutes before it stops."

The light of the candle which the butler held fell upon a portrait hanging above the cabinet. It was a sketch in water-colours, the life-sized head of a man who may have been about thirty years old, 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 s.h.i.+fty 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 b.u.t.ton?"

"By the window there, beside the desk." Franz led the way with his candle.