Wallion took the letter Murner had found on the dead man's table from his pocket and silently handed it to Christian Dreyel. The latter stopped in the middle of reading it and observed: "He says he was enclosing a telegram. Where is it?"
"I can repeat it to you from memory," said Wallion evasively, at the same time doing so. The man nodded and continued to read.
"The letter isn't finished," he said, and his face began to twitch nervously with evident emotion.
"Tell me everything, quick, I am not nervous. What have you come here for?"
"Then you have not read the papers nor heard any news from Stockholm?"
"No."
"It is ill news that I bring, Mr. Dreyel. Your cousin was murdered in his studio last night by an unknown individual who has escaped. He left no papers, except this letter, which could throw light upon the tragedy. The telegram mentioned is in the hands of the police."
Christian Dreyel had gone to the window, through which he gazed in silence. A long pause ensued; at last he said:
"Are you from the police, Mr. Wallion, or not?"
"No," replied the journalist, "I came here to show you this," taking the wooden doll from his pocket and placing it on the table.