ow up the tracks in the other direction,
he took up one of the larger pieces' of glass. "Cheap glass," he said,
looking at it carefully. "It was only a hired cab, therefore, and a
one-horse cab at that."

He walked on slowly, following the marks of the wheels. His eyes
searched the road from side to side, looking for any other signs that
might have been left by the hand which had thrown the package out of the
window. The snow, which had been falling softly thus far, began to come
down in heavier flakes, and Muller quickened his pace. The tracks would
soon be covered, but they could still be plainly seen. They led out
into the open country, but when the first little hill had been climbed a
drift heaped itself up, cutting off the trail completely.

Muller stood on the top of this knoll at a spot where the street
divided. Towards the right it led down into a factory suburb; towards
the left the road led on to a residence colony, and straight ahead the
way was open, between fields, pastures and farms, over moors, to another
town of considerable size lying beside a river. Muller knew all this,
but his knowledge of the locality was of little avail, for all traces of
the carriage wheels were lost.

He followed each one of the streets for a little distance, but to no
purpose. The wind blew the snow up in such heaps that it was quite
impossible to follow any trail under such conditions.

With an expression of impatience Muller gave up his search and turned to
go back again. He was hoping that Amster might have had better luck. It
was not possible to find the goal towards which the wagon had taken its
prisoner--if prisoner she was--as soon as they had hoped. Perhaps the
search must be made in the direction from which she had been brought.

Muller turned back towards the city again. He walked more quickly now,
but his eyes took in everything to the right and to the left of his
path. Near the place where the street divided a bush waved its bare
twigs in the wind. The snow which had settled upon it early in the day
had been blown away by the freshening wind, and just as Muller neared
the bush he saw something white fluttering from one twig. It was a
handkerchief, which had probably hung heavy and lifeless when he had
passed that way before. Now when the wind held it out straight, he saw
it at once. He loosened it carefully from the thorny twigs. A delicate
and rather unusual perfume wafted up to his face. There was more of the