coming to the ears of the bereaved husband, had enraged and
embittered him, and had turned the power of his influence with the
high authorities against the detective. Muller knew how greatly he
had fallen from favour in the Police Department, and the words of
his respected superior showed him that he was still in disgrace.

But the strange, quiet smile was still on his lips as, with his
usual humble deference, he accompanied the others to the sidewalk.
Before the commissioners left the house, the Chief commanded Johann
to answer carefully any questions Muller might put to him.

"He'll find something, you may be sure," said Horn, as they drove
off in the cab.

"Let him that's his business. He is officially bound to see more
than the rest of us," smiled the older official good-naturedly.
"But in spite of it, he'll never get any further than the vestibule;
he'll be making bows to us to the end of his days."

"You think so? I've wondered at the man. I know his fame in the
capital, indeed, in police circles all over Austria and Germany.
It seems hard on him to be transferred to this small town, now that
he is growing old. I've wondered why he hasn't done more for
himself, with his gifts."

"He never will," replied the Chief. "He may win more fame - he may
still go on winning triumphs, but he will go on in a circle; he'll
never forge ahead as his capabilities deserve. Muller's peculiarity
is that his genius - for the man has undeniable genius - will always
make concessions to his heart just at the moment when he is about