place where the murder of Monday evening was committed? People
are still talking about it around here. And I see by the papers that the
murderer was arrested in Pressburg yesterday and brought to Vienna last
night."

"Indeed, is that so? I haven't seen a paper to-day," replied Muller,
awakening from his apparent indifference.

The landlord was flattered by the success of the new subject, and stood
ready to unloose the floodgates of his eloquence. His customer sat up
and asked the question for which the landlord was waiting.

"So it was around here that the man was shot?"

"Yes. His name was Leopold Winkler, that was in the papers to-day too.
You see that pretty house opposite? Well, right behind this house is the
garden that belongs to it and back of that, an old garden which has
been neglected for some time. It was at the end of this garden where
it touches the other street, that they found the man under a big
elder-tree, early Tuesday morning, day before yesterday."

"Oh, indeed!" said. Muller, greatly interested, as if this was the first
he had heard of it. The landlord took a deep breath and was about to
begin again when his customer, who decided to keep the talkative man
to a certain phase of the subject, now took command of the conversation
himself.

"I should think that the people opposite, who live so near the place
where the murder was committed, wouldn't be very much pleased," he said.
"I shouldn't care to look out on such a spot every time I went to my
window."

"There aren't any windows there," exclaimed the landlord, "for there
aren't any houses there. There's only the old garden, and then the large
garden and the park belonging to Mr. Thorne's house, that fine old house
you see just opposite here. It's a good thing that Mr. Thorne and his
wife went away before the murder became known. The lady hasn't been well
for some weeks, she's very nervous and frail, and it probably would have
frightened her to think that such things were happening right close to
her home."

"The lady is sick? What's the matter with her?"

"Goodness knows, nerves, heart trouble, something like that. The things
these fine ladies are always having. But she wasn't always that way, not
until about a year ago. She was fresh and blooming and very pretty to
look at before that."

"She is a young lady then?"

"Yes, indeed, sir; she's very young still and very pretty. It makes you
feel sorry to see her so miserable, and you feel