icial undoing that
is, and compelled his retirement from the force. But his advice is often
sought unofficially by the Department, and to those who know, Muller's
hand can be seen in the unravelling of many a famous case.

The following stories are but a few of the many interesting cases that
have come within the experience of this great detective. But they give
a fair portrayal of Muller's peculiar method of working, his looking on
himself as merely an humble member of the Department, and the comedy
of his acting under "official orders" when the Department is in reality
following out his directions.

THE CASE OF THE REGISTERED LETTER

"Oh, sir, save him if you can--save my poor nephew! I know he is
innocent!"

The little old lady sank back in her chair, gazing up at Commissioner
von Riedau with tear-dimmed eyes full of helpless appeal. The
commissioner looked thoughtful. "But the case is in the hands of the
local authorities, Madam," he answered gently, a strain of pity in his
voice. "I don't exactly see how we could interfere."

"But they believe Albert guilty! They haven't given him a chance!"

"He cannot be sentenced without sufficient proof of his guilt."

"But the trial, the horrible trial--it will kill him--his heart is
weak. I thought--I thought you might send some one--some one of your
detectives--to find out the truth of the case. You must have the best
people here in Vienna. Oh, my poor Albert--"

Her voice died away in a suppressed sob, and she covered her face to
keep back the tears.

The commissioner pressed a bell on his desk. "Is Detective Joseph Muller
anywhere about the building?" he asked of the attendant who appeared at
the door.

"I think he is, sir. I saw him come in not long ago."

"Ask him to come up to this room. Say I would like to speak to him." The
attendant went out.

"I have sent for one of the best men on our force, Madam," continued the
commissioner, turning back to the pathetic little figure in the chair.
"We will go into this matter a little more in detail and see if it is
possible for us to interfere with the work of the local, authorities in
G--."

The little old lady gave her eyes a last hasty dab with a dainty
handkerchief and raised her head again, fighting for self-control. She
was a quaint little figure, with soft grey hair drawn back smoothly from
a gentle-featured face in which each wrinkle seemed the seal of some
loving thought for others. Her bonnet a