It was the wild aster which the dead man's hand still held tightly
clasped. The little purple flowers were quite fresh yet, and the
dewdrops clinging to them greeted the kiss of the sun's rays with
an answering smile.




CHAPTER II

THE BROKEN WILLOW TWIG


As soon as the corpse had been taken away, the police commissioner
returned to the station. But Muller remained there all alone to
make a thorough examination of the entire vicinity.

It was not a very attractive spot, this particular part of the
street. There must have been a nursery there at one time, for
there were still several ordered rows of small trees to be seen.
There were traces of flower cultivation as well, for several
trailing vines and overgrown bushes showed where shrubs had been
grown which do not usually grow without man's assistance.
Immediately back of the old elder tree Muller found several fine
examples of rare flowers, or rather he found the shrubs which his
experienced eye recognised as having once borne these unusual
blossoms. One or two blooms still hung to the bushes and the
detective, who was a great lover of flowers, picked them and put
them in his buttonhole. While he did this, his keen eyes were
darting about the place taking in all the details. This vacant