t least a part of the
mystery. He climbed down the steps carefully and found that they led
into the crypt as he supposed. They were kept spotlessly clean, as
was the entire crypt as far as he could see it by the light of his
flickering candle. He was not surprised to discover that the air was
perfectly pure here. There must be windows or ventilators somewhere,
this he knew from the way his candle behaved.

The ancient vault had a high arched ceiling and heavy massive pillars.
It was a subterranean repetition of the church above. There had
evidently been a convent attached to this church at one time; for here
stood a row of simple wooden coffins all exactly alike, bearing each one
upon its lid a roughly painted cross surrounded by a wreath. Thus were
buried the monks of days long past.

Muller walked slowly through the rows of coffins looking eagerly to each
side. Suddenly he stopped and stood still. His hand did not tremble but
his thin face was pale--pale as that face which looked up at him out of
one of the coffins. The lid of the coffin stood up against the wall and
Muller saw that there were several other empty ones further on, waiting
for their silent occupants.

The body in the open coffin before which Muller stood was the body of
the man who had been missing since the day previous. He lay there quite
peacefully, his hands crossed over his breast, his eyes closed, a line
of pain about his lips. In the crossed fingers was a little bunch of
dark yellow roses. At the first glance one might almost have thought
that loving hands had laid the old pastor in his coffin. But the red
stain on the white cloth about his throat, and the bloody disorder of
his snow-white hair contrasted sadly with the look of peace on the dead
face. Under his head was a white silk cushion, one of the cushions from
the altar.

Muller stood looking down for some time at this poor victim of a strange
crime, then he turned to go.

He wanted to know one thing more: how the murderer had left the crypt.
The flame of his candle told him, for it nearly went out in a gust of
wind that came down the opening right above him. This was a window about
three or four feet from the floor, protected by rusty iron bars which
had been sawed through, leaving the opening free. It was a small window,
but it was large enough to allow a man of much greater size than Muller
to pass through it. The detective blew out his candle and climbed up
onto the window sill. H