The voice at the other end spoke hastily: “The gentleman named Edgar Hull, who was under police protection ... has been murdered this night. In the open street, too, about 2 a.m. Another gentleman, name of Karstens, has been seriously wounded. The constable who was detailed to watch over him is also wounded, and both have been taken to the hospital. A lady who was with these gentlemen was arrested at the order of the wounded man. I have ordered the body to be left lying exactly as it was found until you have seen it yourself. The Service car is on its way to your honour. Please ring off!” “Ring off!” echoed Wenk’s voice agitatedly. He hastened to dress, for the car was already to be heard throbbing outside. He went down the dark staircase, forgetting to turn a light on. Then, when he perceived the car in the street, his profile revealed the jaws drawn firmly together, in the necessity of meeting calmly the tragic circumstances in which he was involved, and entering into every detail of this deed of blood perpetrated in the darkness of the night, so that he might be enabled to act to the best advantage. During the drive, something within him compelled him to take himself to task. “I had no business to tremble,” he thought, “when this news reached me. I must be prepared to face even my own death unflinchingly. I must school myself further. I must develop all my tastes and interests and use them in the service of my life’s goal; then only shall I be equal to my task....” Hull’s body lay in the darkness. Four men in sombre clothing were silhouetted around him, and they stepped back as their chief descended from the car. Wenk ordered them--they were constables--to watch the entrances to the street and allow no one to approach the scene of the murder, which was in a gloomy street-turning behind the Wittelsbach Palace. Not a soul was to be seen in any of the houses. One of the constables said that none of the public had been near the place since the occurrence.