every governmental department, puts the secret service men of the
Imperial police on a par with the lower ranks of the subordinates.
Muller's official rank is scarcely much higher than that of a
policeman, although kings and councillors consult him and the
Police Department realises to the full what a treasure it has in
him. But official red tape, and his early misfortune ... prevent
the giving of any higher official standing to even such a genius.
Born and bred to such conditions, Muller understands them, and
his natural modesty of disposition asks for no outward honours,
asks for nothing but an income sufficient for his simple needs,
and for aid and opportunity to occupy himself in the way he most
enjoys.

Joseph Muller's character is a strange mixture. The
kindest-hearted man in the world, he is a human bloodhound when
once the lure of the trail has caught him. He scarcely eats or
sleeps when the chase is on, he does not seem to know human
weakness nor fatigue, in spite of his frail body. Once put on
a case his mind delves and delves until it finds a clue, then
something awakes within him, a spirit akin to that which holds
the bloodhound nose to trail, and he will accomplish the apparently
impossible, he will track down his victim when the entire machinery
of a great police department seems helpless to discover anything.
The high chiefs and commissioners grant a condescending permission
when Muller asks, "May I do this? ... or may I handle this case
this way?" both parties knowing all the while that it is a farce,
and that the department waits helpless until this humble little
man saves its honour by solving some problem before which its
intricate machinery has stood dazed and puzzled.