"Did she not usually announce her coming to you?"

"No, she liked to surprise me. Three days ago I sent her a telegram
asking her to bring certain necessary papers with her. This brought
the answer from the overseer of her estate, an answer which has
caused me great anxiety. Your coming makes it worse, for I fear -"
The sick man broke off and turned his eyes on Muller; eyes so full
of fear and grief that the detective's heart grew soft. He felt
Fellner's icy hand on his as the sick man murmured: "Tell me the
truth! Is Asta dead?"

The detective shrugged his shoulders. "We do not know yet. She
was alive and able to send a message at half past eight this evening."

"A message? To whom?"

"To the nearest police station." Muller told the story as it had
come to him.

The old man listened with an expression of such utter dazed terror
that the detective dropped all suspicion of him at once.

"What a terrible riddle," stammered the sick man as the other
finished the story.

"Would you answer me several questions?" asked Muller. The old
gentleman answered quickly, "Any one, every one."

"Miss Langen is rich?"