"He's the right one
for the work," murmured Janci as he turned slowly back towards the
village.
An hour later Muller stood in the little waiting-room of the railway
station writing a telegram. It was addressed to Count ----.
"Do you know the shepherd Janci? It would be a good thing to
make him the official detective for the village. He has high
qualifications for the profession. If I had his gifts combined
with my own, not one could escape me. I have found this one
however. The guards are already taking him to you. My work
here is done. If I should be needed again I can be found at
Police Headquarters, Vienna.
"Respectfully,
"JOSEPH MULLER."
While the detective was writing his message--it was one of the rare
moments of humour that Muller allowed himself, and he wondered
mildly what the stately Hungarian nobleman would think of it--a
heavy farm wagon jolted over the country roads towards the little
county seat. Sitting beside the driver and riding about the wagon
were armed peasants. The figure of a man, securely bound, his face
distorted by rage and fear, lay in the wagon.
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