“It’s real enough, doctor.”
“But what do you think about it—you, who have the gift of seeing more than other people see, even if it does bring you into disfavour with the Powers that Be?”
“Then you don’t believe me yet?”
“You mean about the beautiful Mrs. Kniepp?
“And yet I tell you I am right. It was an intentional suicide.”
“Muller, Muller, you must keep better watch over your imagination and your tongue! It is a dangerous thing to spread rumours about persons high in favor with the Arch-duke. But you had better tell me what you think about this affair,” continued the doctor, pointing back towards the room they had just left.
“There’s a woman in the case.”
“Aha! you are romancing again. Well, they won’t be so sensitive about this matter, but take care that you don’t make a mistake again, my dear Muller. It would be likely to cost you your position, don’t forget that.”
The doctor left the house. Muller smiled bitterly as he closed the door behind him, and murmured to himself: “Indeed, I do not forget it, and that is why I shall take this matter into my own hands. But the Kniepp case is not closed yet, by any means.”
When he returned to the study he saw Johann sitting quietly in a corner, shaking his head, as if trying to understand it all. Horn was bending over a sheet of writing paper which lay before the dead man. Fellner must have been busy at his desk when the bullet penetrated his heart. His hand in dying had let fall the pen, which had drawn a long black mark across the bottom of the sheet. One page of the paper was covered with a small, delicate handwriting.