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Updated: June 11, 2025
You may not know that I have had the most extraordinary luck in my profession, that in more than a hundred cases there have been but two where the criminal I was hunting escaped me. And now, Mrs. Bernauer, I will bid you good day." Muller stepped towards the window and motioned to Franz, who was walking up and down outside. The old man ran to the door and met the detective in the hall.
There were few travellers entering Venice on one of its world-famous moonlit nights who were so sad at heart as were these two. And there were few travellers in Venice as heavy hearted as was the man who next morning took one of the earliest boats out to the Lido. Muller and Mrs. Bernauer were on the same boat watching him from a hidden corner.
Bernauer turned and walked slowly to the house. Muller walked on also, going first to the police station to report what he had discovered. Then he went to his own rooms and slept until nearly noon. On his return to the police station he found that notices of the occurrence had already been sent out to the papers.
Bernauer wrung her hands and gazed with despairing eyes at the man who sat before her, himself deeply moved. Again there was a long silence. Muller could not find a word to comfort the weeping woman. There was no longer anger in his heart, nothing but the deepest pity. He took out his handkerchief and wiped away the drops that were dimming his own eyes.
Bernauer, who lived so near the place where this man had died and who was so greatly interested in his murder. The detective's search was not quite in vain, although he could not tell yet whether what he had found would be of any value. Leopold Winkler had had very little correspondence, or else he had had no reason to keep the letters he received.
Adele Bernauer sighed deeply again and heavy tears ran down her cheeks, in strange contrast to the ghost of a smile that parted her lips and shone in her dimmed eyes. "You know him better than I do," she murmured almost inaudibly, "you know him better than I do, and I have known him for so long." A moment later Muller had parted from the housekeeper with a warm, sincere pressure of the hand.
Why did you run away from that gate so suddenly? I thought you wanted me to show you the place?" Mrs. Bernauer raised her head and Muller saw that her face looked pale and haggard and that her eyes shone with an uneasy feverish light. She did not answer the old man's questions, but made a gesture of farewell and then turned and walked slowly towards the house.
Lizzie and the cook were engaged in an earnest conversation in the kitchen and Franz was fully occupied with Mrs. Bernauer. The gardener was away and his wife busy at her wash tubs.
Schmiedler, the gardener's wife, began her story at once. "Haven't you heard yet?" she said breathlessly. "No, you can't have heard it yet or you wouldn't stand there so quietly, Mrs. Bernauer." "What's the matter?" asked the woman whom Muller took to be the housekeeper. "They killed a man last night out here! They found his body just now in the lane back of our garden.
"Why! you were in the train too? You have come to Venice?" exclaimed Joseph Muller in astonishment as he saw Mrs. Bernauer standing there before him. "Yes, I have come to Venice too. I must be with my dear lady when when Herbert " She had begun quite calmly, but she did not finish her sentence, for loud sobs drowned the words. "You were in the next compartment? Why didn't you come in here with me?
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