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Updated: May 4, 2025
Klingmayer thought, everything has to happen the first time sometime. "It's not likely to be the last time," the worthy woman thought. At all events she was rather glad of it to-day, for she suffered from rheumatism and it was difficult for her to get about. The young man's absence saved her the work of fixing up his room that morning and allowed her to get to her reading earlier than usual.
His watch and purse were not in his pockets: presumably they had been taken by the murderer. A strange fact is that in one of his pockets a hidden pocket it is true there was the sum of 300 guldens in bills. This was the notice which made Mrs. Klingmayer neglect the soup pot. Finally the old woman stood up very slowly, threw a glance at the stove and opened the window mechanically.
Bernauer, the guilty conscience that remembered face and figure of this quiet-looking man who was one of the most-feared servants of the law in Austria. When Muller reached the house where Mrs. Klingmayer lived he ordered the cabman to wait and hurried up to the widow's little apartment. He had the key to Leopold Winkler's room in his own pocket, for Mrs.
"Why shouldn't he come again?" "Is the head of the firm here?" asked Mrs. Klingmayer, wiping her forehead with her handkerchief. The clerk nodded and hurried away to tell his employer about the woman with the white face who came to ask for a man who, as she expressed it, "would never come there again." "I don't think she's quite right in the head," he volunteered.
Klingmayer could say, and she returned to her home in a cab furnished her by the kind commissioner. About two hours later, a police attendant announced that a gentleman would like to see Dr. von Riedan on business concerning the murder in Hietzing. "Friedrich Bormann" was the name on the card. "Ask him to step in here," said the commissioner. "And please ask Mr. Muller to join us."
These extravagant days seemed to have nothing whatever to do with Winkler's business pay day, but came at odd times. Mrs. Klingmayer remembered two separate times when he had received a postal money order. But she did not know from whom the letters came, nor even whether they were sent from the city or from some other town.
Klingmayer rose and was about to follow, when the merchant asked her to wait a moment and inquired whether Winkler owed her anything. "I am sorry that you should have had this shock and the annoyances and trouble which will come of it, but I don't want you to be out of pocket by it." "No, he doesn't owe me anything," replied the honest old woman, shaking her head.
Klingmayer had reached the police station and were going upstairs to the rooms of the commissioner on service for the day. Like all people of her class, Mrs. Klingmayer stood in great awe and terror of anything connected with the police or the law generally.
That day the evening papers printed the report of the murder and the description of the dead man, and on Wednesday, the 29th, Mrs. Klingmayer read the news and went to see Winkler's employer. By noon of that day the body was identified and a description of the stolen purse and watch telegraphed to police headquarters in various cities.
But her principal joy were the everyday happenings of varied interest which she found in the news columns. To-day she was so absorbed in the reading of them that the soup pot began to boil over and send out rivulets down onto the stove. Ordinarily this would have shocked Mrs. Klingmayer, for the neatness of her pots and pans was the one great care of her life.
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