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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Just as you like. I was trying to help you, I believe I really could help you. I have just come from Hietzing but of course if you don't want to talk to me " Muller shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the door. But before he reached it Knoll stood at his side. "You really mean to help me?" he gasped. "I do," said the detective calmly.
It was Mrs. Thorne, therefore, who, reluctantly and in anger and distaste, had called Leopold Winkler to Hietzing, to his death. And whose hand had fired the shot that caused his death? The question, at this stage in Muller's meditation, could hardly be called a question any more. It was all too sadly clear to him now.
"Why, see here, sir, if I had gone to Ottakring, then I suppose you would have asked why did I go to Ottakring. I just went to Hietzing. A fellow has to go somewhere. You don't stay in the same spot all the time, do you?" Again the commissioner turned his head and another smile went through the room. This Hietzing murderer had a sense of humour.
Countess Banfy, an old friend of Liszt's, had taken him into her very pleasant house at Hietzing, and he was thus in excellent quarters, living at ease, and with nothing to trouble about, as the kind lady thought it her duty to keep this fellow in other respects so undeserving supplied with everything.
The three clerks who worked in the department to which Winkler belonged gathered together to talk the matter over. They were none of them particularly hit by it, but naturally they were interested in the discovery in Hietzing, and equally naturally, they tried to find a few good words to say about the man whose life had ended so suddenly.
There was nothing else in Winkler's room which could be of any value to Muller in the problem that was now before him. And yet he was very well satisfied with the result of his errand. He entered his cab again, ordering the driver to take him to Hietzing. Just before he had reached the corner where he had told the man to stop, another cab passed them, a coupe, in which was a solitary woman.
But the last two words, "and you," had evidently not come from her heart, for she had annulled them by a heavy stroke of the pen. A stroke that seemed like a knife thrust, so full of rage and hate it was. "So he was called to a rendezvous in Hietzing, too," murmured Muller, then he added after a few moments: "But this rendezvous had nothing whatever to do with love."
This fact, however, did not make the old man's heart any lighter, for the purse mended with yellow thread was too clearly the one stolen from the murdered man found in the quiet street in Hietzing. "What's the matter with you, you're so slow? I can get along better myself," growled the tramp, pushing the old man away from him.
"It means, sir, that we now know who committed the murder in Hietzing. Johann Knoll is innocent of anything more than the theft confessed by himself. He took the purse and watch from the senseless form of the just murdered man. The body was warm and still supple and the tramp supposed the victim to be merely intoxicated. His story was in every respect true, sir."
But he, too, accepted Frau Dustmann's invitations to the three of us. She was then at Hietzing for the summer, and there dinners were given more than once, and also a few vocal rehearsals for Isolde, for which part her voice seemed to possess some of the spiritual susceptibility required.
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