divided. Towards the right it led down into a factory suburb;
towards the left the road led on to a residence colony, and straight
ahead the way was open, between fields, pastures and farms, over
moors, to another town of considerable size lying beside a river.
Muller knew all this, but his knowledge of the locality was of
little avail, for all traces of the carriage wheels were lost.

He followed each one of the streets for a little distance, but to
no purpose. The wind blew the snow up in such heaps that it was
quite impossible to follow any trail under such conditions.

With an expression of impatience Muller gave up his search and
turned to go back again. He was hoping that Amster might have
had better luck. It was not possible to find the goal towards
which the wagon had taken its prisoner - if prisoner she was - as
soon as they had hoped. Perhaps the search must be made in the
direction from which she had been brought.

Muller turned back towards the city again. He walked more quickly
now, but his eyes took in everything to the right and to the left
of his path. Near the place where the street divided a bush waved
its bare twigs in the wind. The snow which had settled upon it
early in the day had been blown away by the freshening wind, and
just as Muller neared the bush he saw something white fluttering
from one twig. It was a handkerchief, which had probably hung
heavy and lifeless when he had passed that way before. Now when
the wind held it out straight, he saw it at once. He loosened it
carefully from the thorny twigs. A delicate and rather unusual
perfume wafted up to his face. There was more of the odour on the
little cloth than is commonly used by people of good taste. And