“Last night.”

“Who is the victim?”

“Our pastor.”

“How was he killed?”

“We do not know.”

“You are not a physician, then?” asked Muller, turning to Orszay.

“Yes, I am,” answered the latter.

“Well?”

“The body is missing,” said Orszay, somewhat sharply.

“Missing?” Muller became greatly interested.  “Will you please lead me to the scene of the crime?” he said, rising from his chair.

The others led him into the next room, the magistrate going ahead with a lamp.  The judge called for more lights and the group stood around the pool of blood on the floor of the study.  Muller’s arms were crossed on his breast as he stood looking down at the hideous spot.  There was no terror in his eyes, as in those of the others, but only a keen attention and a lively interest.

“Who has been in this room since the discovery?” he asked.

The doctor replied that only the servants of the immediate household, the notary, the magistrate, and himself, then later the Count and the district judge entered the room.

“You are quite certain that no one else has been in here?”

“No, no one else.”

“Will you kindly send for the three servants?” The magistrate left the room.

“Who else lives in the house?”

“The sexton and the dairymaid.”

“And no one else has left the house to-day or has entered it?”

“No one.  The main door has been watched all day by a gendarme.”

“Is there but one door out of this room?”

“No, there is a small door beside that bookcase.”

“Where does it lead to?”

“It leads to a passageway at the end of which there is a stair down into the vestry.”

Muller gave an exclamation of surprise.

“The vestry as well as the church have neither of them been opened on the side toward the street.”

“The church or the vestry, you mean,” corrected Muller.  “How many doors have they on the street side?”

“One each.”

“The locks on these doors were in good condition?”

“Yes, they were untouched.”

“Was there anything stolen from the church?”

“No, nothing that we could see.”

“Was the pastor rich?”

“No, he was almost a poor man, for he gave away all that he had.”

“But you were his patron, Count.”

“I was his friend.  He was the confidential adviser of myself and family.”

“This would mean rich presents now and then, would it not?”

“No, that is not the case.  Our venerable pastor would take nothing for himself.  He would accept no presents but gifts of money for his poor.”

“Then you do not believe this to have been a murder for the sake of robbery?”

“No.  There was nothing disturbed in any part of the house, no drawers or cupboards broken open at all.”