ight it not be some one who has a grudge against
Thorne--some one who is trying to purposely mislead you?"

"I am not so easily deceived or misled, sir. Every evidence points to
Thorne, and the confession I have just heard was made by a woman who
loves him, who has loved and cared for him from his babyhood. There is
not the slightest doubt of it, sir."

Muller moved a step nearer the desk, gazing firmly in the eyes of the
excited commissioner. The sadness on the detective's face had given way
to a gleam of pride that flushed his sallow cheek and brightened his
grey eyes. It was one of those rare moments when Muller allowed
himself a feeling of triumph in his own power, in spite of official
subordination and years of habit. His slight frame seemed to grow taller
and broader as he faced the Chief with an air of quiet determination
that made him at once master of the situation. His voice was as low as
ever but it took on a keen incisive note that compelled attention, as he
continued: "Herbert Thorne is the murderer of Leopold Winkler. Now that
he knows an innocent man is under accusation for his deed it is only
a question of time before he will come himself to confess. He will
doubtless make this confession to me, if I go to Venice to see him, and
to bring him back to trial."

The commissioner could doubt no longer. Pedantic though he was,
Commissioner von Riedau possessed sufficient insight to know the truth
when it was presented to him with such conviction, and also sufficient
insight to have recognised the gifts of the man before him. "But why...
why?" he murmured, sinking back into his chair, and shaking his head in
bewilderment.

"Winkler was a miserable scoundrel, sir, a blackmailer. Thorne did only
what any decent man would have felt like doing in his place. But justice
must be done."

Muller's elation vanished and a deep sigh welled up from his heart. The
commissioner nodded slowly, and glanced across the desk almost timidly.
This case had appeared to be so simple, and suddenly the hidden deeps
of a dark mystery had opened before him, deeps already sounded by
the little man here who had gone so quietly about his work while the
official police, represented in this case by Commissioner von Riedau
himself, had sat calmly waiting for an innocent man to confess to a
crime he had not committed! It was humiliating. The commissioner flushed
again and his eyes sank to the floor.

"Tell me what you know, Muller," he s