The chief’s eyes sparkled for a moment with pleasure. The way in which Freyberger had connected and riveted the two cases, the manner in which he had now, with terrible and mathematical certainty, proved Müller, alias Kolbecker, alias Klein, the moving spirit in these two great tragedies, and almost to a certainty the criminal, since Lefarge could have no thinkable connexion with the Gyde case and Gyde no connexion with the Lefarge case; all this pleased his artistic instinct. He said nothing, but simply read the message, handed it to Freyberger, who read it in turn and gave it back.
“Thank you, sir,” said Freyberger, “and now, if you will permit me, I will go home. Nothing of importance is likely to happen between now and seven o’clock. I have some pressing business to attend to.”
“And what may that business be?” inquired the chief.
“Sleep, sir. I have not closed my eyes for forty-eight hours.”
“Go and attend to your business, then,” replied the other, “and if anything of vital importance turns up, I will send for you. I am pleased with you, Freyberger, and with the way you have conducted this case. Go and dream you have caught this will-o’-the-wisp, and may your dream turn true.”
“I never dream, sir,” replied Freyberger, and, bidding the chief good morning, he departed.
CHAPTER XXV
HE returned to his rooms.
The man who would command events must be able to command sleep. This, at least, Freyberger was able to do. He cast himself upon his bed, closed his eyes and was immediately lost in oblivion.