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Updated: May 11, 2025
"You know that I will have to go to Venice?" he asked. Mrs. Bernauer sprang up. "Officially?" she gasped, pale to her lips. He nodded. "Yes, officially of course. I must make a report at once to headquarters about what I have learned. You can imagine yourself what the next steps will be." Her deep sigh showed him that she knew as well as he.
We went to see the house in which lived the beautiful Agnes Bernauer, daughter of a barber, who married Duke Albert III. of Bavaria.
But his heart was drawn with terrors which threw lines in his face and made him look ten years older than on that Tuesday morning when the detective saw him setting out on his journey with his wife. When the boat landed at the Lido, Thorne walked off down the road which led to the ocean side. Muller and Mrs. Bernauer entered the waiting tramway that took them in the same direction.
One does not betray the people to whom one is devoted." Mrs. Bernauer looked up in surprise. "What what do you know?" she stammered. Muller did not answer the question directly, but continued: "Mrs. Thorne had a meeting recently with a strange man. It was not their first meeting, and somehow you discovered it.
Muller never found out what was the matter with the parrot, for as he looked up with a polite smile of interest, he looked into a pale face, into a pair of eyes that opened wide in terror, and heard trembling lips frame the words: "There he is again!" A moment later Mrs. Bernauer would have been glad to have recalled her exclamation, but it was too late.
But not on false pretenses this time. And before you let me in you can go upstairs and ask Mrs. Bernauer if she will receive me in her own room in her own room, mind. But make haste; I am in a hurry." The detective's tone was calm and he strolled slowly up and down in front of the gate when he had finished speaking. The old butler hesitated a moment, then walked into the house.
Muller had seldom found his official duty as difficult as it was now. His words came haltingly and great drops stood out on his forehead. The painter rose from the sand and he too wiped his face, which was drawn in agony. "Herbert, Herbert!" cried Adele Bernauer suddenly. "Oh, Herbert, you will live, you will! Promise me, you will not think of suicide, it would kill your wife "
He went out into the hall, then into the courtyard, watched by the two in the room who stood silently in the window until they saw the butler pass down into the garden. Then they looked at each other. "You belong to the police?" asked Adele Bernauer finally with a deep sigh.
"That will not be easy for you can imagine that I did not come unarmed." Adele Bernauer smiled sadly. "I would take even this way to save Herbert Thorne from disgrace, if I thought that it could be successful, and if I had not thought of a milder way to silence a man who cannot be a millionaire.
The woman's sad eyes gazed yearningly at the haggard face of the tall man who stood looking over the railing of the little steamer. Her own tears came as she saw the gloom in the once shining grey eyes she loved so well. Muller stood beside Mrs. Bernauer.
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