character caused his undoing at last, his official undoing that
is, and compelled his retirement from the force. But his advice is often
sought unofficially by the Department, and to those who know, Muller's
hand can be seen in the unravelling of many a famous case.

The following stories are but a few of the many interesting cases that
have come within the experience of this great detective. But they give
a fair portrayal of Muller's peculiar method of working, his looking on
himself as merely an humble member of the Department, and the comedy
of his acting under "official orders" when the Department is in reality
following out his directions.

JOE MULLER: DETECTIVE

THE CASE OF THE POOL OF BLOOD IN THE PASTOR'S STUDY

The sun rose slowly over the great bulk of the Carpathian mountains
lying along the horizon, weird giant shapes in the early morning mist.
It was still very quiet in the village. A cock crowed here and there,
and swallows flew chirping close to the ground, darting swiftly about
preparing for their higher flight. Janci the shepherd, apparently the
only human being already up, stood beside the brook at the point where
the old bridge spans the streamlet, still turbulent from the mountain
floods. Janci was cutting willows to make his Margit a new basket.

Once the shepherd raised his head from his work, for he thought he heard
a loud laugh somewhere in the near distance. But all seemed silent and
he turned back to his willows. The beauty of the landscape about him was
much too familiar a thing that he should have felt or seen its
charm. The violet hue of the distant woods, the red gleaming of the
heather-strewn moor, with its patches of swamp from which the slow
mist arose, the pretty little village with its handsome old church and
attractive rectory--Janci had known it so long that he never stopped to
realise how very charming, in its gentle melancholy, it all was.

Also, Janci did not know that this little village of his home had once
been a flourishing city, and that an invasion of the Turks had razed
it to the ground leaving, as by a miracle, only the church to tell of
former glories.

The sun rose higher and higher. And now the village awoke to its daily
life. Voices of cattle and noises of poultry were heard about the
houses, and men and women began their accustomed round of tasks. Janci
found that he had gathered enough willow twigs by this time. He tied
them in a loose bundle and