put the key to the side door?" he asked.

"In the first pail on the right hand side. But be careful, sir; there's
a nail sticking out of the post there. The wind tore off a piece of wood
yesterday."

The warning came too late. Muller's sleeve tore apart with a sharp sound
just as Johann spoke, for the detective had already plunged his hand
into the pail. The bottom of the bucket was easy to reach, as this one
hung much lower than the others. Looking regretfully at the rent in
his coat, Muller asked for needle and thread that he might repair it
sufficiently to get home.

"Oh, don't bother about sewing it; I'll lend you one of mine," exclaimed
Johann. "I'll carry this one home for you, for I'm not going to stay
here alone--I'd be afraid. I'm going to a friend's house. You can
find me there any time you need me. You'd better take the key of the
apartment and give it to the police."

The detective had no particular fondness for the task of sewing, and
he was glad to accept the valet's friendly offering. He was rather
astonished at the evident costliness of the garment the young man handed
him, and when he spoke of it, the valet could not say enough in praise
of the kindness of his late master. He pulled out several other articles
of clothing, which, like the overcoat, had been given to him by Fellner.
Then he packed up a few necessities and announced himself as ready to
start. He insisted on carrying the torn coat, and Muller permitted it
after some protest. They carefully closed the apartment and the house,
and walked toward the centre of the city to the police station, where
Muller lived.

As they crossed the square, it suddenly occurred to Johann that he had
no tobacco. He was a great smoker, and as he had many days of enforced
idleness ahead of him, he ran into a tobacco shop to purchase a
sufficiency of this necessity of life.

Muller waited outside, and his attention was attracted by a large grey
Ulmer hound which was evidently waiting for some one within the shop.
The dog came up to him in a most friendly manner, allowed him to pat its
head, rubbed up against him with every sign of pleasure, and would not
leave him even when he turned to go after Johann came out of the shop.
Still accompanied by the dog, the two men walked on quite a distance,
when a sharp whistle was heard behind them, and the dog became uneasy.
He would not leave them, however, until a powerful voice called
"Tristan!" several times. Muller t