me as it was locked then."

Muller left the room, taking the pistol with him. Bauer locked the door.
"Is this right?" he asked.

"Yes, I can see a wide curve of the room, taking in the entire desk.
Please stand to one side now."

There was deep silence for a moment, then a slight sound as of metal
on metal, then a report, and Muller re-entered the study through the
bedroom. He found Bauer stooping over the picture of the French soldier.
There was a hole in the left breast, where the bullet, passing through,
had buried itself in the back of the chair.

"Yes, it was all just as you said," began the chief of police, holding
out his hand to Muller. "But--why the golden bullet?"

"To-morrow, to-morrow," replied the detective, looking up at his
superior with a glance of pleading.

They left the house together and in less than an hour's time Muller was
again in the train rolling towards the capital.

He went to the goldsmith's shop as soon as he arrived. The proprietor
received him with eager interest and Muller handed him the golden
bullet. "Here is the golden object of which I spoke," said the
detective, paying no heed to the other's astonishment. The goldsmith
opened a small locked drawer, took a ring from it and set about an
examination of the two little objects. When he turned to his visitor
again, he was evidently satisfied with what he had discovered. "These
two objects are made of exactly the same sort of gold, of a peculiar
old French composition, which can no longer be produced in the same
richness. The weight of the gold in the bullet is exactly the same as in
the ring."

"Would you be willing to take an oath on that if you were called in as
an expert?"

"I am willing to stand up for my judgment."

"Good. And now will you read this over please, it contains the substance
of what you told me yesterday. Should I have made any mistakes, please
correct them, for I will ask you to set your signature to it."

Muller handed several sheets of close writing to the goldsmith and the
latter read aloud as follows: "On the 22nd of November, a gentleman came
into my shop and handed me a wedding ring with the request that I should
make another one exactly like it. He was particularly anxious that the
work should be done in two days at the very latest, and also that the
new ring, in form, colour, and in the engraving on the inside, should
be a perfect counterpart of the first. He explained his order by saying
that his