The man
who held the knife that struck down the pastor was Varna, the crazy
mechanician."
Janci beat his forehead. "Oh, I am a foolish and useless dreamer!"
he exclaimed; "of course it was Varna's hands that I saw. I have
seen them a hundred times when he came down into the village, and
yet when I saw them in the vision I did not recognise them."
"We're all dreamers, Janci--and our dreams are very useless
generally."
"Yours are not useless, sir," said the shepherd. "If I had as much
brains as you have, my dreams might be of some good."
Muller smiled. "And if I had your visions, Janci, it would be a
powerful aid to me in my profession."
"I don't think you need them, sir. You can find out the hidden
things without them. You are going to leave us?"
"Yes, Janci, I must go back to Budapest, and from there to Vienna.
They need me on another case."
"It's a sad work, this bringing people to the gallows, isn't it?"
"Yes, Janci, it is sometimes. But it's a good thing to be able to
avenge crime and bring justice to the injured. Good-bye, Janci."
"Good-bye, sir, and God speed you."
The shepherd stood looking after the small, slight figure of the
man who walked on rapidly through the heather.
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