The evening paper printed an exact description of the man's
appearance and his clothing.

It was about ten o'clock next morning when Mrs. Klingmayer, a widow
living in a quiet street at the opposite end of the city from
Hietzing, returned from her morning marketing. It was only a few
little bundles that she brought with her and she set about preparing
her simple dinner. Her packages were wrapped in newspapers, which
she carefully smoothed out and laid on the dresser.

Mrs. Klingmayer was the widow of a street-car conductor and the
little pension which she received from the company, as well as the
money she could earn for herself, did not permit of the indulgence
in a daily newspaper. And yet the reading of the papers was the
one luxury for which the simple woman longed. Her grocer, who was
a friend of years, knew this and would wrap up her purchases in
papers of recent date, knowing that she could then enjoy them in
her few moments of leisure. To-day this leisure came unexpectedly
early, for Mrs. Klingmayer had less work than usual to attend to.

Her little flat consisted of two rooms and a kitchen with a large
closet opening out from it. She lived in the kitchen and rented
the front rooms. Her tenants were a middle-aged man, inspector
in a factory, who had the larger room; and a younger man who was
bookkeeper in an importing house in the city. But this young man
had not been at home for forty-eight hours, a fact, however, which
did not greatly worry his landlady. The gentleman in question
lived a rather dissipated life and it was not the first time that
he had remained away from home over night. It is true that it was
the first time that he had not been home for two successive nights.