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Also, Janci did not know that this little village of his home had once been a flourishing city, and that an invasion of the Turks had razed it to the ground leaving, as by a miracle, only the church to tell of former glories. The sun rose higher and higher. And now the village awoke to its daily life.

I have seen them a hundred times when he came down into the village, and yet when I saw them in the vision I did not recognise them." "We're all dreamers, Janci and our dreams are very useless generally." "Yours are not useless, sir," said the shepherd. "If I had as much brains as you have, my dreams might be of some good." Muller smiled.

His little hut cowered close by the high iron gates, and he had a personal acquaintance with most of the patients, with all of the attendants, and most of all, with the kind elderly physician who was the head of the establishment. Janci knew them all, and had a kind word equally for all. But otherwise he was a silent man, living much within himself.

It meant money for them, for it afforded a constant and ever-open market for their farm products and the output of their home industry. But every now and then a scream or a harsh laugh would ring out from behind those barred windows, and those in the village who could hear, would shiver and cross themselves. Shepherd Janci had little fear of the big house.

And there are many more things that I could tell you, but what's the use; when a man won't believe it's only lost talk to try to make him. But one thing you should know: when Janci stares ahead of him without seeing what's in front of him, then the whole village begins to wonder what's going to happen, for Janci knows far more than all the rest of us put together."

No. 302 looked at the detective in great surprise, and then laid his hand on the latter's arm. "How did you know that I had the top there?" he asked with a show of interest. "I found its traces in the room, and it was those traces that led me here to you," answered Muller. "How strange!" remarked Varna. "Are you like shepherd Janci that you can see the things others don't see?"

When the shepherd reached his little home, his wife came to meet him with a call to breakfast. As they sat down at the table a shadow moved past the little window. Janci looked up. "Who was that?" asked Margit, looking up from her folded hands. She had just finished her murmured prayer. "Pastor's Liska," replied Janci indifferently, beginning his meal.

There were two people this time, Liska and the old doctor. They were walking very fast, running almost. Margit sprang up and hurried to the door to look after them. Janci sat still in his place, but he had laid aside his spoon and with wide eyes was staring ahead of him, murmuring, "It's the pastor this time; I saw him just as I did the others."

"His Reverence didn't look very well yesterday, or maybe the old housekeeper has the gout again." Janci gave a grunt which might have meant anything. The shepherd was a silent man. Being alone so much had taught him to find his own thoughts sufficient company. Ten minutes passed in silence since Margit's last question, then some one went past the window.

But it's a good thing to be able to avenge crime and bring justice to the injured. Good-bye, Janci." "Good-bye, sir, and God speed you." The shepherd stood looking after the small, slight figure of the man who walked on rapidly through the heather. "He's the right one for the work," murmured Janci as he turned slowly back towards the village.