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Muller was accustomed to saying: "Oh, I am such a happy man!" The expression on his face in this picture is quite in harmony with his words just quoted. One of his sayings was: "When anxiety begins, faith ends; when faith begins, anxiety ends." Mr. Muller spent seventy years of his life in England and became so thoroughly Anglicized that he wished his name pronounced "Miller."
Before he died he had learned that it was the undaunted courage of his timid little old aunt that had brought Muller to take charge of the case and to free her beloved nephew from the dreaded prison. And the last days that these two passed together were very happy. But as aforesaid, Muller refuses to have this case included in the list of his successes.
The fence belonged to the neighbouring property, as the lot in which he stood was not protected in any way. To the back it was closed off by a corn field where the tall stalks rustled gently in the faint morning breeze. All this could be seen by anybody and Muller had seen it all at his first glance. But now he had seen something else.
Then the sigh and the smile passed, and Muller raised his head in one of the rare moments of pride in his own gifts that this shy unassuming little man ever allowed himself. This was the work that he was intended by Providence to do or he wouldn't have been fitted for it, and it was work for the common good, for the public safety.
Mr Muller found it blessed to follow, one step at a time, as God ordered his way, and to stand still and wait when He seemed to call for a halt.
"My dear Müller," he said, with a faint smile, "nothing more has happened than that the Electoral Prince has just dismissed me in anger, and sent me home to Berlin." "For pity's sake, what is that you say?" asked the private secretary, clasping his trembling hands together in painful astonishment. "He has been so ungrateful as to thrust from him his best and truest friend?"
That lesson was never lost, and George Muller fell into the apostolic succession of such holy labour! He often records how much his own faith-work was indebted to that example of simple trust in prayer exhibited by Francke. Seven years later he read his life, and was thereby still more prompted to follow him as he followed Christ.
In addition, he possesses French, Hindustani, Burmese, Shan, and Sanscrit, and, in an admirable translation which he has made of a Chinese novel into English, he frequently quotes Latin. Fit assistant he would make to Max Müller; his services command a high salary. The Chinese in Rangoon are a predominating force in the prosperity of the city.
This man's luck is balanced by that man's ruin Orestes falls sick, and Pylades returns from Kissingen cured of his lumbago old Croesus dies, and little Miss Kilmansegg comes into the world with a golden spoon in her mouth, So it fell out with Franz Müller and myself.
Joseph Muller, Secret Service detective of the Imperial Austrian police, is one of the great experts in his profession. In personality he differs greatly from other famous detectives. He has neither the impressive authority of Sherlock Holmes, nor the keen brilliancy of Monsieur Lecoq. Muller is a small, slight, plain-looking man, of indefinite age, and of much humbleness of mien.
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