facts grouped themselves
together in the brain of the intelligent working-man to form some
terrible tragedy where his assistance, if given at once, might be of
great use. He had a warm heart besides, a heart that reached out to this
unknown who was in distress, and who threw out the call for help which
had fallen into his hands.

He waited no longer to ponder over the matter, but started off at a full
run for the nearest police station. He rushed into the room and told his
story breathlessly.

They took him into the next room, the office of the commissioner for
the day. The official in charge, who had been engaged in earnest
conversation with a small, frail-looking, middle-aged man, turned to
Amster with a question as to what brought him there.

"I found this package in the snow."

"Let me see it."

Amster laid it on the table. The older man looked at it, and as the
commissioner was about to open it, he handed him a paper-knife with the
words: "You had better cut it open, sir."

"Why?"

"It is best not to injure the seals that fasten a package."

"Just as you say, Muller," answered the young commissioner, smiling. He
was still very young to hold such an office, but then he was the son of
a Cabinet Minister, and family connections had obtained this responsible
position for him so soon. Kurt von Mayringen was his name, and he was
a very good-looking young man, apparently a very good-natured young man
also, for he took this advice from a subordinate with a most charming
smile. He knew, however, that this quiet, pale-faced little man in the
shabby clothes was greater than he, and that it was mere accident of
birth that put him, Kurt von Mayringen, instead of Joseph Muller, in the
position of superior.

The young commissioner had had most careful advice from headquarters as
to Muller, and he treated the secret service detective, who was one of
the most expert and best known men in the profession, with the greatest
deference, for he knew that anything Muller might say could be only of
value to him with his very slight knowledge of his business. He took the
knife, therefore, and carefully cut open the paper, taking out a tiny
little notebook, on the outer side of which a handsome monogram gleamed
up at him in golden letters.

"A woman made this package," said Muller, who had been looking at the
covering very carefully; "a blond woman."

The other two looked at him in astonishment. He showed them a single
blond