“I suppose it would be useless to ask who has been coming and going from the rectory the last few days?” began the Count.

“Oh, yes, indeed, sir,” said the district judge with a sigh.  “For if this murderer is the same who committed the other crimes he must live here in or near the village, and therefore must be known to all and not likely to excite suspicion.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” put in the doctor.  “There must be at least two of them.  One man alone could not have carried off the farm hand who was killed to the swamp where his body was found.  Nor could one man alone have taken away the bloody body of the pastor.  Our venerable friend was a man of size and weight, as you know, and one man alone could not have dragged his body from he room without leaving an easily seen trail.”

The judge blushed, but he nodded in affirmation to the doctor’s words.  This thought had not occurred to him before.  In fact, the judge was more notable for his good will and his love of justice rather than for his keen intelligence.  He was as well aware of this as was any one else, and he was heartily glad that the Count had sent to the capital for reinforcements.

Some time more passed in deep silence.  Each of the men was occupied with his own thoughts.  A sigh broke the silence now and then, and a slight movement when one or the other drew out his watch or raised his head to look at the door.  Finally, the sound of a carriage outside was heard.  The men sprang up.

The driver’s voice was heard, then steps which ascended the stairs lowly and lightly, audible only because the stillness was so great.

The door opened and a small, slight, smooth-shaven man with a gentle face and keen grey eyes stood on the threshold.  “I am Joseph Muller,” he said with a low, soft voice.

The four men in the room looked at him in astonishment.

“This simple-looking individual is the man that every one is afraid of?” thought the Count, as he walked forward and held out his hand to the stranger.

“I sent for you, Mr. Muller,” said the magnate, conscious of his stately size and appearance, as well as of his importance in the presence of a personage who so little looked what his great fame might have led one to expect.

“Then you are Count ——­ ?” answered Muller gently.  “I was in Budapest, having just finished a difficult case which took me there.  They told me that a mysterious crime had happened in your neighbourhood, and sent me here to take charge of it.  You will pardon any ignorance I may show as a stranger to this locality.  I will do my best and it may be possible that I can help you.”

The Count introduced the other gentlemen in order and they sat down again at the table.

“And now what is it you want me for, Count?” asked Muller.

“There was a murder committed in this house,” answered the Count.

“When?”