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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28084-8.txt b/28084-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e09035 --- /dev/null +++ b/28084-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9508 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Malcolm Sage, Detective, by Herbert George +Jenkins + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Malcolm Sage, Detective + + +Author: Herbert George Jenkins + + + +Release Date: February 14, 2009 [eBook #28084] +[Last updated: April 4, 2015] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE*** + + +E-text prepared by Alan Winterrowd + + + +MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE + +by + +HERBERT GEORGE JENKINS + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I Sir John Dene Receives His Orders + II The Strange Case of Mr. Challoner + III Malcolm Sage's Mysterious Movements + IV The Surrey Cattle-Maiming Mystery + V Inspector Wensdale Is Surprised + VI The Stolen Admiralty Memorandum + VII The Outrage at the Garage + VIII Gladys Norman Dines with Thompson + IX The Holding Up of Lady Glanedale + X A Lesson in Deduction + XI The McMurray Mystery + XII The Marmalade Clue + XIII The Gylston Slander + XIV Malcolm Sage Plays Patience + XV The Missing Heavyweight + XVI The Great Fight at the Olympia + XVII Lady Dene Calls on Malcolm Sage + + + + +CHAPTER I SIR JOHN DENE RECEIVES HIS ORDERS + + + + +I + + +"John!" + +"Yeh!" + +"Don't say 'yeh,' say 'yes,' Dorothy dear." + +"Yes, Dorothy de----" + +Sir John Dene was interrupted in his apology by a napkin-ring +whizzing past his left ear. + +"What's wrong?" he enquired, laying aside his paper and picking up +the napkin-ring. + +"I'm trying to attract your attention," replied Lady Dene, slipping +from her place at the breakfast-table and perching herself upon the +arm of her husband's chair. She ran her fingers lightly through his +hair. "Are you listening?" + +"Sure!" + +"Well, what are you going to do for Mr. Sage?" + +In his surprise at the question, Sir John Dene jerked up his head to +look at her, and Dorothy's forefinger managed to find the corner of +his eye. + +He blinked vigorously, whilst she, crooning apologies into his ear, +dabbed his eye with her handkerchief. + +"Now," she said, when the damage had been repaired, "I'll go and sit +down like a proper, respectable wife of a D.S.O.," and she returned +to her seat. "Well?" she demanded, as he did not speak. "Yes, dear." + +"What are you going to do for Mr. Sage, now that Department Z is +being demobbed? You know you like him, because you didn't want to +ginger him up, and you mustn't forget that he saved your life," she +added. + +"Sure!" + +"Don't say 'sure,' John," she cried. "You're a British baronet, and +British baronets don't say 'sure,' 'shucks' or vamoose.' Do you +understand?" + +He nodded thoughtfully; + +"I like Mr. Sage," announced Dorothy. Then a moment later she added, +"He always reminds me of the superintendent of a Sunday-school, with +his conical bald head and gold spectacles. He's not a bit like a +detective, is he?" + +"Sure!" + +"If you say it again, John, I shall scream," she cried. + +For some seconds there was silence, broken at length by Dorothy. + +"I like his wonderful hands, too," she continued. "I'm sure he's +proud of them, because he can never keep them still. If you say +'sure,' I'll divorce you," she added hastily. + +He smiled, that sudden, sunny smile she had learned to look for and +love. + +"Then again I like him because he's always courteous and kind. At +Department Z they'd have had their appendixes out if Mr. Sage wanted +them. Now have you made up your mind?" + +"Made it up to what?" he asked, lighting a cigar. + +"That you're going to set him up as a private detective," she said +coolly. "I don't want him to come here and not find everything +planned out." + +"He won't do that," said Sir John Dene with conviction. "He's no +lap-dog." + +"I wrote and asked him to call at ten to-day," she said coolly. + +"Snakes, you did!" he cried, sitting up in his chair. + +"Alligators, I did!" she mocked. + +"You're sure some wife;" he looked at her admiringly. + +"I sure am," she laughed lightly, "but I'm only just beginning, John +dear. By the way, I asked Sir James Walton to come too," she added +casually. + +"You----" he began, when the door opened and a little, silver-haired +lady entered. Sir John Dene jumped to his feet. + +"Behold the mother of the bride," cried Dorothy gaily. + +"Good morning, John," said Mrs. West as he bent and kissed her cheek. +She always breakfasted in her room; she abounded in tact. + +"Now we'll get away from the eggs and bacon," cried Dorothy. "In the +language of the woolly West, we'll vamoose," and she led the way out +of the dining-room along the corridor to Sir John Dene's den. + +"Come along, mother-mine," she cried over her shoulder. "We've got a +lot to discuss before ten o'clock." + +Sir John Dene's "den" was a room of untidiness and comfort. As +Dorothy said, he was responsible for the untidiness and she the +comfort. + +"Heigh-ho!" she sighed, as she sank down into a comfortable chair. +"I wonder what Whitehall would have done without Mr. Sage;" she +smiled reminiscently. "He was the source of half its gossip." + +"He was very kind to you, Dorothy, when John was--was lost," said +Mrs. West gently, referring to the time when Sir John Dene had +disappeared and a reward of 20,000 pounds had been offered for news +of him. + +"Sure!" Sir John Dene acquiesced. "He's a white man, clean to the +bone." + +"It was very wonderful that an accountant should become such a +clever detective," said Mrs. West. "It shows----" she paused. + +"You see, he wasn't a success as an accountant," said Dorothy. "He +was always finding out little wangles that he wasn't supposed to see. +So when they wouldn't have him in the army, he went to the Ministry +of Supply and found out a great, big wangle, and Mr. Llewellyn John +was very pleased. You get me, Honest John?" she demanded, turning to +her husband. + +Sir John Dene nodded and blew clouds of cigar smoke from his lips. +He liked nothing better than to sit listening to his wife's +reminiscences of Whitehall, despite the fact that he had heard most +of them before. + +"Poor Mr. Sage," continued Dorothy, "nobody liked him, and he's got +such lovely down on his head, just like a baby," she added, with a +far-away look in her eyes. + +"Perhaps no one understood him," suggested Mrs. West, with +instinctive charity for the Ishmaels of the world. + +"Isn't that like her," cried Dorothy, "but this time she's right," +she smiled across at her mother. "When a few thousand tons of copper +went astray, or someone ordered millions of shells the wrong size, +Mr. Sage got the wind up, and tried to find out all about it, and in +Whitehall such things weren't done." + +"They tried to put it up on me," grumbled Sir John Dene, twirling +his cigar with his lips, "but I soon stopped their funny work." + +"Everybody was too busy winning the war to bother about trifles," +Dorothy continued. "The poor dears who looked after such things +found life quite difficult enough, with only two hours for lunch and +pretty secretaries to be----" + +"Dorothy!" cried Mrs. West reproachfully. + +"Well, it's true, mother," she protested. + +It was true, as Malcolm Sage had discovered. "Let us concentrate on +what we know we _have_ got," one of his chiefs had once gravely said +to him. "Something is sure to be swallowed up in the fog of war," he +had added. Pleased with the phrase, which he conceived to be +original, he had used it as some men do a titled relative, with the +result that Whitehall had clutched at it gratefully. + +"The fog of war," General Conyers Bardulph had muttered when, for +the life of him, he could not find a division that was due upon the +Western Front and which it was his duty to see was sent out. + +"The fog of war," murmured spiteful Anita McGowan, when the pretty +little widow, Mrs. Sleyton, was being interrogated as to the +whereabouts of her husband. + +"The fog of war," laughed the girls in Department J.P.Q., when at +half-past four one afternoon neither its chief nor his dark-eyed +secretary had returned from lunch. + +"But when he went to Department Z he was wonderful," said Mrs. West, +still clinging tenderly to her Ishmael. + +"He was," said Sir John Dene. "He was the plumb best man at his job +I ever came across." + +"Yes, John dear, that's all very well," said Dorothy, her eyes +dancing, "but suppose you had been the War Cabinet and you had sent +for Mr. Sage;" she paused. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +"And he had come in a cap and a red tie," she proceeded, "and had +resigned within five minutes, saying that you were talking of things +you didn't know anything about." She laughed at the recollection. + +"He was right," said Sir John Dene with conviction. "I've come +across some fools; but----" + +"There, there, dear," said Dorothy, "remember there are ladies +present. In Whitehall we all loved Mr. Sage because he snubbed +Ministers, and we hadn't the pluck to do it ourselves," she added. + +Sir John Dene snorted. His mind travelled back to the time when he +had been "up against the whole sunflower-patch," as he had once +expressed it. + +"But why did they keep him if they didn't like him?" enquired Mrs. +West. + +"When you don't like anyone in Whitehall," Dorothy continued, "you +don't give him the push, mother dear, you just transfer him to +another department." + +"Like circulating bad money," grumbled Sir John Dene. + +"It sure was, John," she agreed. "Poor Mr. Sage soon became the most +transferred man in Whitehall. They used to say, 'Uneasy lies the +head that has a Sage.'" She laughed at the recollection. + +"But wasn't it rather unkind?" said Mrs. West gently. + +"It was, mother-mine; but Whitehall was a funny place. One of Mr. +Sage's chiefs went about for months trying to get rid of him. He +offered to give a motor-cycle to anyone who would take him, it was a +Government cycle," she added; "but there was nothing doing. We +called him Henry the Second and Mr. Sage Becket, the archbishop not +the boxer," she explained. "You know," she added, "there was once +an English king who wanted to get rid of----" + +"We'll have it the sort of concern that insurance companies can look +to," Sir John Dene broke in. + +"What on earth are you talking about, John?" cried Dorothy. + +Whilst his wife talked Sir John Dene had been busy planning Malcolm +Sage's future, and he had uttered his thoughts aloud. He proceeded +to explain. When he had finished, Dorothy clapped her hands. + +"Hurrah! for Malcolm Sage, Detective," she cried and, jumping up, +she perched herself upon the arm of her husband's chair, and rumpled +the fair hair, which with her was always a sign of approval. "That's +his ring, or Sir James's," she added as the bell sounded. + +"Now we'll leave you lords of creation to carry out my idea," she +said as she followed Mrs. West to the door. + +And Sir John Dene smiled. + + + + +II + + +"In the States they've got Pinkerton's," said Sir John Dene, +twirling with astonishing rapidity an unlit cigar between his lips. +"If you've lost anything, from a stick-pin to a mountain, you just +blow in there, tell them all about it, and go away and don't worry. +Here you've got nothing." + +"We have Scotland Yard," remarked Malcolm Sage quietly, without +looking up from the contemplation of his hands, which, with fingers +wide apart, rested upon the table before him. + +His bald, conical head seemed to contradict the determined set of +his jaw and the steel-coloured eyes that gazed keenly through large +gold-rimmed spectacles. Even his ears, that stood squarely out from +his head, appeared to emphasise by their aggressiveness that they +had nothing to do with the benevolent shape of the head above. + +"Yes, and you've got Cleopatra's Needle, and the pelicans in St. +James's Park," Sir John Dene retorted scornfully. He had never +forgotten the occasion when, at a critical moment in the country's +history, the First Lord of the Admiralty had casually enquired if he +had seen the pelicans. + +For the last half-hour Sir John Dene, with characteristic +impulsiveness, had been engaged in brushing aside all Malcolm Sage's +"cons" with his almighty "Pro." + +"We'll have a Pinkerton's in England," he resumed, as neither of his +listeners took up his challenge, "and we'll call it Sage's." + +"I shall in all probability receive quite a number of orders for +shop-fronts," murmured Malcolm Sage, with a slight fluttering at the +corners of his mouth, which those who knew him understood how to +interpret. + +"Shop-fronts!" repeated Sir John Dene, looking from one to the other, +"I don't get you." + +"There is already a well-known firm of shop-furnishers called +'Sage's,'" explained Sir James, who throughout the battle had been +an amused listener. + +"Well, we'll call it the Malcolm Sage Detective Bureau," replied Sir +John Dene, "and we'll have it a concern that insurance companies can +look to." He proceeded to light his cigar, with him always a sign +that something of importance had been settled. + +Sir John Dene liked getting his own way. That morning he had +resolutely brushed aside every objection, ethical or material, that +had been advanced. To Malcolm Sage he considered that he owed a +lot,* and with all the aggressiveness of his nature, he overwhelmed +and engulfed objection and protest alike. To this was added the fact +that the idea was his wife's, and in his own phraseology, "that +goes." + +[* See John Dene of Toronto for the story of how Malcolm Sage +frustrated the enemies of Sir John Dene.] + +Passive and attentive, his long shapely hands seldom still, Malcolm +Sage had listened. From time to time he ventured some objection, +only to have it brushed aside by Sir John Dene's overwhelming +determination. + +For some minutes Malcolm Sage had been stroking the back of his head +with the palm of his right hand, a habit of his when thoughtful. +Suddenly he raised his eyes and looked across at his would-be +benefactor. + +"Why should you want to do this for me, Sir John?" he asked. + +"If you're going to put up a barrage of whys," was the irascible +retort, "you'll never cut any ice." + +"I fully appreciate the subtlety of the metaphor," said Malcolm Sage, +the corners of his mouth twitching; "but still why?" + +"Well, for one thing I owe you something," barked Sir John Dene, +"and remembering's my long suit. For another, Lady Dene----" + +"That is what I wanted to know," said Malcolm Sage, as he drew his +briar from his pocket and proceeded to fill it. "Will you thank Lady +Dene and tell her that I am proud to be under an obligation to her-- +and to you, Sir John," he added. + +"Say, that's fine," cried Sir John Dene, jumping to his feet and +extending his hand, which Malcolm Sage took, an odd, quizzical +expression in his eyes. "This Detective Bureau notion is a whale." + +"The zoological allusion, I'm afraid, is beyond me," said Malcolm +Sage as he struck a match, "but no doubt you are right," and he +looked across at Sir James Walton, whose eyes smiled his approval. + +"It's all fixed up," cried Sir John Dene to his wife as she came out +into the hall as the visitors were departing. + +"I'm so glad," she cried, giving her hand to Malcolm Sage. "You'll +be such a success, Mr. Sage," and she smiled confidently up into his +eyes. + +"With such friends," he replied, "failure would be an impertinence," +and he and Sir James Walton passed out of the flat to return to what +was left of the rapidly demobilising Department Z, which had made +history by its Secret Service work. + +In a few days the news leaked out that "M.S.," as Malcolm Sage was +called by the staff, was to start a private-detective agency. The +whole staff promptly offered its services, and there was much +speculation and heart-burning as to who would be selected. + +On hearing that she was to continue to act as Malcolm Sage's +secretary, Miss Gladys Norman had done a barn-dance across the room, +her arrival at the door synchronising with the appearance of Malcolm +Sage from without. It had become a tradition at Department Z that +"M.S." could always be depended upon to arrive at the most +embarrassing moment of any little dramatic episode; but it was +equally well-known that he possessed a "blind-side" to his vision. +They called it "the Nelson touch." + +James Thompson, Malcolm Sage's principal assistant, and William +Johnson, the office junior, had also been engaged, and their +enthusiasm has been as great as that of their colleague, although +less dramatically expressed. + +A battle royal was fought over the body of Arthur Tims, Malcolm +Sage's chauffeur. Sir John Dene had insisted that a car and a +chauffeur were indispensable to a man who was to rival Pinkerton's. +Malcolm Sage, on the other hand, had protested that it was an +unnecessary expense in the early days of a concern that had yet to +justify itself. To this Sir John Dene had replied, "Shucks!" at the +same time notifying Tims that he was engaged for a year, and +authorising him to select a car, find a garage, and wait +instructions. + +Tims did not do a barn-dance. He contented himself for the time +being with ruffling William Johnson's dark, knut-like hair, a thing +to which he was much addicted. Returning home on the evening of his +engagement he had bewildered Mrs. Tims by seizing her as she stood +in front of the kitchen-stove, a frying-pan full of sausages in her +hand, and waltzing her round the kitchen, frying-pan and all. + +Subsequently five of the six sausages had been recovered; but the +sixth was not retrieved until the next morning when, in dusting, Mrs. +Tims discovered it on the mantelpiece. + + + + +CHAPTER II THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. CHALLONER + + + + +I + + +"Please, sir, Miss Norman's fainted." William Johnson, known to his +colleagues as the innocent, stood at Malcolm Sage's door, with +widened eyes and a general air that bespoke helplessness. + +Without a word Malcolm Sage rose from his table, as if accustomed +all his life to the fainting of secretaries. William Johnson stood +aside, with the air of one who has rung a fire-alarm and now feels +he is at liberty to enjoy the fire itself. + +Entering her room, Malcolm Sage found Gladys Norman lying in a heap +beside her typewriter. Picking her up he carried her into his own +room, placed her in an arm-chair, fetched some brandy from a small +cupboard and, still watched by the wide-eyed William Johnson, +proceeded to force a little between her teeth. + +Presently her lids flickered and, a moment later, she opened her +eyes. For a second there was in them a look of uncertainty, then +suddenly they opened to their fullest extent and became fixed upon +the door beyond. Malcolm Sage glanced over his shoulder and saw +framed in the doorway Sir James Walton. + +"Sit down, Chief," he said quietly, his gaze returning to the girl +sitting limply in the large leather-covered arm-chair. "I shall be +free in a moment." + +It was characteristic of him to attempt no explanation. To his mind +the situation explained itself. + +As Miss Norman made an effort to rise, he placed a detaining hand +upon her arm. + +"Send Mr. Thompson." + +With a motion of his hand Malcolm Sage indicated to William Johnson +that the dramatic possibilities of the situation were exhausted, at +least as far as he was concerned. With reluctant steps the lad left +the room and, having told Thompson he was wanted, returned to his +seat in the outer office, where it was his mission to sit in +preliminary judgment upon callers. + +When Thompson entered, Malcolm Sage instructed him to move the +leather-covered chair into Miss Norman's room and, when she was +rested, to take her home in the car. + +Thompson's face beamed. His devotion to Gladys Norman was notorious. + +The girl rose and raised to Malcolm Sage a pair of dark eyes from +which tears were not far distant. + +"I'm so ashamed, Mr. Sage," she began, her lower lip trembling +ominously. "I've never done such a thing before." + +"I've been working you too hard," he said, as he held back the door. +"You must go home and rest." + +She shook her head and passed out, whilst Malcolm Sage returned to +his seat at the table. + +"Working till two o'clock this morning," he remarked as he resumed +his seat. "She won't have assistance. Strange creatures, women," he +added musingly, "but beautifully loyal." + +Sir James had dropped into a chair on the opposite side of Malcolm +Sage's table. Having selected a cigar from the box his late +chief-of-staff pushed across to him, he cut off the end and +proceeded to light it. + +"Good cigars these," he remarked, as he critically examined the +lighted end. + +"They're your own brand, Chief," was the reply. + +Malcolm Sage always used the old name of "Chief" when addressing Sir +James Walton. It seemed to constitute a link with the old days when +they had worked together with a harmony that had bewildered those +heads of departments who had regarded Malcolm Sage as something +between a punishment and a misfortune. + +"Busy?" + +"Very." + +For some seconds they were silent. It was like old times to be +seated one on each side of a table, and both seemed to realise the +fact. + +"I've just motored up from Hurstchurch," began Sir James at length, +having assured himself that his cigar was drawing as a good cigar +should draw. "Been staying with an old friend of mine, Geoffrey +Challoner." + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"He was shot last night. That's why I'm here." He paused; but +Malcolm Sage made no comment. His whole attention was absorbed in an +ivory paper-knife, which he was endeavouring to balance upon the +handle of the silver inkstand. More than one client had been +disconcerted by Malcolm Sage's restless hands, which they +interpreted as a lack of interest in their affairs. + +"At half-past seven this morning," continued Sir James, "Peters, the +butler, knocked at Challoner's door with his shaving-water. As there +was no reply he entered and found, not only that Challoner was not +there, but that the bed had not been slept in over night." + +Malcolm lifted his hands from the paper-knife. It balanced. + +"He thought Challoner had fallen asleep in the library," continued +Sir James, "which he sometimes did, he is rather a night-owl. Peters +then went downstairs, but found the library door locked on the +inside. As there was no response to his knocking, he went round to +the French-windows that open from the library on to the lawn at the +back of the house. The curtains were drawn, however, and he could +see nothing." + +"Is it usual to draw the curtains?" enquired Malcolm Sage, regarding +with satisfaction the paper-knife as it gently swayed up and down +upon the inkstand. + +"Yes, except in the summer, when the windows are generally kept +open." + +Malcolm Sage nodded, and Sir James resumed his story. + +"Peters then went upstairs to young Dane's room; Dane is Challoner's +nephew, who lives with him. While he dressed he sent Peters to tell +me. + +"A few minutes later we all went down to the library and tried to +attract Challoner's attention; but without result. I then suggested +forcing an entry from the garden, which was done by breaking the +glass of one of the French-windows. + +"We found Challoner seated at his table dead, shot through the head. +He had an automatic pistol in his hand." Sir James paused; his voice +had become husky with emotion. Presently he resumed. + +"We telephoned for the police and a doctor, and I spent the time +until they came in a thorough examination of the room. The +French-windows had been securely bolted top and bottom from within, +by means of a central handle. All the panes of glass were intact, +with the exception of that we had broken. The door had been locked _on +the inside_, and the key was in position. It was unlocked by Peters +when he went into the hall to telephone. It has a strong mortice-lock +and the key did not protrude through to the outer side, so that +there was no chance of manipulating the lock from without. In the +fireplace there was an electric stove, and from the shower of soot +that fell when I raised the trap, it was clear that this had not +been touched for some weeks at least. + +"The doctor was the first to arrive. At my urgent request he +refrained from touching the body. He said death had taken place from +seven to ten hours previously as the result of the bullet wound in +the temple. He had scarcely finished his examination when an +inspector of police, who had motored over from Lewes, joined us. + +"It took him very few minutes to decide that poor Challoner had shot +himself. In this he was confirmed by the doctor. Still, I insisted +that the body should not be removed." + +"Why did you do that, Chief?" enquired Malcolm Sage, who had +discarded the paper-knife and was now busy drawing geometrical +figures with the thumb-nail of his right hand upon the blotting pad +before him. + +"Because I was not satisfied," was the reply. "There was absolutely +no motive for suicide. Challoner was in good health and, if I know +anything about men, determined to live as long as the gods give." + +Again Malcolm Sage nodded his head meditatively. + +"The jumping to hasty conclusions," he remarked, "has saved many a +man his neck. Whom did you leave in charge?" he queried. + +"The inspector. I locked the door; here is the key," he said, +producing it from his jacket pocket. "I told him to allow no one +into the room." + +"Why were you there?" Malcolm Sage suddenly looked up, flashing that +keen, steely look through his gold-rimmed spectacles that many men +had found so disconcerting. "Ordinary visit?" he queried. + +"No." Sir James paused, apparently deliberating something in his +own mind. He was well acquainted with Malcolm Sage's habit of asking +apparently irrelevant questions. + +"There's been a little difficulty between Challoner and his nephew," +he said slowly. "Some days back the boy announced his determination +of marrying a girl he had met in London, a typist or secretary. +Challoner was greatly upset, and threatened to cut him out of his +will if he persisted. There was a scene, several scenes in fact, and +eventually I was sent for as Challoner's oldest friend." + +"To bring the nephew to reason," suggested Malcolm Sage. + +"To give advice ostensibly; but in reality to talk things over," was +the reply. + +"You advised?" When keenly interested, Malcolm Sage's questions were +like pistol-shots. + +"That Challoner should wait and see the girl." + +"Did he?" + +Malcolm Sage was intent upon outlining his hand with the point of +the paper-knife upon the blotting pad. + +Again Sir James hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, however. + +"Yes; but unfortunately with the object of endeavouring to buy her +off. Yesterday afternoon Dane brought her over. Challoner saw her +alone. She didn't stay more than a quarter of an hour. Then she and +Dane left the house together, he to see her to the station. An hour +later he returned. I was in the hall at the time. He was in a very +excited state. He pushed past me, burst into the library, banging +the door behind him. + +"That evening at dinner Challoner told me there had been a very +unpleasant scene. He had warned the boy that unless he apologised +to-day he would telephone to London for his lawyer, and make a fresh +will entirely disinheriting him. Soon after the interview Dane went +out of the house, and apparently did not return until late--as a +matter of fact, after I had gone to bed. I was feeling tired and +said 'good night' to Challoner about half-past ten in the library." + +For some time Malcolm Sage gazed upon the outline he had completed, +as if in it lay the solution of the mystery. + +"It's a pity you let the butler unlock the door," he remarked +regretfully. + +Sir James looked across at his late chief-of-staff keenly. He +detected something of reproach in his tone. + +"Did you happen to notice if the electric light was on when you +entered the library?" + +"No," said Sir James, after a slight pause; "it was not." + +Malcolm Sage reached across to the private telephone and gave the +"three on the buzzer" that always galvanised Miss Gladys Norman into +instant vitality. + +"Miss Norman," said Sage as she entered, "can you lend me the small +mirror I have seen you use occasionally?" + +"Yes, Mr. Sage," and she disappeared, returning a moment later with +the mirror from her handbag. She was accustomed to Malcolm Sage's +strange requests. + +"Feeling better?" he enquired as she turned to go. + +"I'm all right now," she smiled, "and please don't send me home, Mr. +Sage," she added, and she went out before he had time to reply. + +A quarter of an hour later the two men entered Sir James's car, +whilst Thompson and Dawkins, the official photographer to the Bureau, +followed in that driven by Tims. Malcolm Sage would cheerfully have +sacrificed anybody and anything to serve his late chief. + +"And how am I to keep the shine off my nose without a looking-glass, +Johnny?" asked Miss Norman of William Johnson, as she turned to +resume her work. + +"He won't mind if it shines," said the youth seriously; and Miss +Norman gave him a look, which only his years prevented him from +interpreting. + + + + +II + + +As the car drew up, the hall-door of "The Cedars" was thrown open by +the butler, a fair-haired clean-shaven man of about forty-five, with +grave, impassive face, and eyes that gave the impression of allowing +little to escape them. + +As he descended the flight of stone-steps to open the door of the +car, a young man appeared behind him. A moment later Sir James was +introducing him to Malcolm Sage as "Mr. Richard Dane." + +Dark, with smoothly-brushed hair and a toothbrush moustache, he +might easily have been passed over in a crowd without a second +glance. He was obviously and acutely nervous. His fingers moved +jerkily, and there were twitchings at the corners of his mouth that +he seemed unable to control. It was not a good-tempered mouth. He +appeared unconscious of the presence of Malcolm Sage. His eyes were +fixed upon the second car, which had just drawn up, and from which +Thompson and Dawkins were removing the photographic paraphernalia. + +Peters conducted Sir James and Malcolm Sage to the dining-room, +where luncheon was laid. + +"Shall I serve luncheon, Sir James?" he enquired, ignoring Dane, who +was clearly unequal to the strain of the duties of host. + +Sir James looked across at Malcolm Sage, who shook his head. + +"I'll see the library first," he said. "Sir James will show me. +Fetch Dawkins," he said to Thompson, and he followed Sir James +through the house out on to the lawn. + +As they entered the library by the French-windows, a tall, sandy man +rose from the armchair in which he was seated. He was Inspector +Gorton of the Sussex County Constabulary. Malcolm Sage nodded a +little absently. His eyes were keenly taking in every detail of the +figure sprawling across the writing-table. The head rested on the +left cheek, and there was an ugly wound in the right temple from +which blood had dripped and congealed upon the table. In the right +hand was clutched a small, automatic pistol. The arm was slightly +curved, the weapon pointing to the left. + +Having concluded his examination of the wound, Malcolm Sage drew a +silk-handkerchief from his pocket, shook out its folds and spread it +carefully over the blood-stained head of Mr. Challoner. + +Sir James looked across at him, appreciation in his eyes. It was one +of those little human touches, of which he had discovered so many in +Malcolm Sage, and the heads of government departments in Whitehall +so few. + +Malcolm Sage next proceeded to regard the body from every angle, +even going down on his knees to see the position of the legs beneath +the table. He then walked round the room and examined everything +with minute attention, particularly the key of the door, which Sir +James had replaced in its position on the inside. The keyhole on +both sides of the door came in for careful scrutiny. + +He tried the door of a small safe at the far-end of the room; it was +locked. He then examined the fastenings of the French-windows. + +Finally he returned to the table, where, dropping on one knee on the +left-hand side of the body, he drew a penknife from his pocket, and +proceeded with great care and deliberation to slit up the outer seam +of the trousers so that the pocket lay exposed. + +This in turn he cut open, taking care not to disturb the bunch of +keys, which, attached to a chain, lay on the thigh, a little to the +left. + +The others watched him with wide-eyed interest, the inspector +breathing heavily. + +Having assured himself that the keys would not slide off, Malcolm +Sage rose and turned to Dawkins: + +"I want a plate from the right, the left, the front, and from behind +and above. Also an exposure showing the position of the legs, and +another of the keys." + +Dawkins inclined his head. He was a grey, bald-headed little man who +had only one thought in life, his profession. He seldom spoke, and +when he did his lips seemed scarcely to part, the words slipping out +as best they could. + +Happy in the knowledge that his beloved camera was once more to be +one of the principal witnesses in the detection of a crime, Dawkins +set himself to his task. + +"When Dawkins has finished," said Malcolm Sage, turning to the +inspector, who had been watching the proceedings with ill-disguised +impatience, "you can remove the body; but leave the pistol. Give Mr. +Challoner's keys to Sir James. And now I think we might lunch," he +said, turning to Sir James. + +Malcolm Sage's attitude towards the official police was generally +determined by their attitude towards him. In the Department Z days, +he had been known at Scotland Yard as "Sage & Onions." What the +phrase lacked in wit was compensated for by the feeling with which +it was frequently uttered. The police officers made no effort to +dissemble the contempt they felt for a department in which they saw +a direct rebuke to themselves. Later, however, their attitude +changed, and Malcolm Sage was brought into close personal touch with +many of the best-known officers of the Criminal Investigation +Department. + +He had never been known to speak disparagingly, or patronisingly, of +Scotland Yard. On the other hand, he lost no opportunity of +emphasising the fact that it was the head-quarters of the most +efficient police force in the world. He did not always agree with +its methods, which in many ways he regarded as out-of-date. + +As Malcolm Sage left the room, the inspector shrugged his shoulders. +The whole thing was so obvious that, but for the presence of Sir +James Walton, he would have refused to delay the removal of the body. +The doctor had pronounced the wound self-inflicted, and even if he +had not done so, the circumstantial evidence was conclusive. + +Luncheon was eaten in silence, a constrained and uncomfortable meal. +Malcolm Sage ate as he always ate when his mind was occupied, with +entire indifference as to what was on the plate, from which his eyes +never lifted. + +Sir James made several ineffectual efforts to draw Dane into +conversation; but at each remark the young man started violently, as +if suddenly recalled to his surroundings. Finally Sir James desisted, +and the meal concluded in abysmal silence. + +Malcolm Sage then announced that he would examine the various +members of the household, and Dane and Peters left the room. + +One by one the servants entered, were interrogated, and departed. +Even the gardener and his wife, who lived at the lodge by the +main-gates, were cross-questioned. + +Mrs. Trennett, the housekeeper, was incoherent in her voluble +anxiety to give information. The maids were almost too frightened to +speak, and from none was anything tangible extracted. + +No one had any reason for being near the library late at night. + +When Peters' turn came, he told his story with a clearness and +economy of words that caused Malcolm Sage mentally to register him +as a good witness. He was a superior kind of man, who had been in +his present position only some six months; but during that time he +had given every satisfaction, so much so that Mr. Challoner had +remarked to Sir James that he believed he had found a treasure. + +According to Peters' account, at a quarter-past eleven on the +previous evening he had gone to the library, as was his custom, to +see if there were anything else that Mr. Challoner required before +he locked up for the night. On being told there was nothing, he had +accordingly seen to the fastenings of doors and windows and gone to +bed. + +"What was Mr. Challoner doing when you entered the room?" enquired +Malcolm Sage, intent upon a design he was drawing upon the surface +of the salt. + +"He was sitting at the table where I found him this morning." + +"What was he actually doing?" + +"I think he was checking his bankbook, sir." + +"Did you notice anything strange about his manner?" + +"No, sir." + +"When you found that his bed had not been slept in were you +surprised?" + +"Not greatly, sir," was the response. "Once before a similar thing +happened, and I heard from the other servants that on several +occasions Mr. Challoner had spent the night in the library, having +fallen asleep there." + +"When you told Mr. Dane that his uncle had not slept in his room, +and that the library door was locked on the inside, what did he +say?" + +"He said, 'Good Lord! Peters, something must have happened.'" + +"Mr. Dane knew that on previous occasions his uncle had spent the +night in his study?" enquired Malcolm Sage, smoothing out the design +upon which he had been engaged and beginning another. + +"I think so, sir," was the response. + +"The pistol was the one he used at target-practice?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where did he keep it?" + +"In the third right-hand drawer of his table, sir." + +"He was a good shot, I think you said?" Malcolm Sage turned to Sir +James. + +"Magnificent," he said warmly. "I have often shot with him." + +"Do you know of any reason why Mr. Challoner should commit suicide?" +Malcolm Sage enquired of Peters. + +"None whatever, sir; he always seemed very happy." + +"He had no domestic worries?" + +Peters hesitated for a moment. + +"He never mentioned any to me, sir." + +"You have in mind certain events that occurred during the last few +days, I take it?" said Malcolm Sage. + +"That was in my mind, sir," was the response. + +"You know of no way by which anyone could have got into the library +and then out again, other than through the door or the window?" + +Malcolm Sage had relinquished the salt-spoon and was now +meditatively twirling a wineglass by its stem between his thumb and +first finger. + +"There is no other way, sir." + +"Who has access to the library in the ordinary way? Tell me the +names of everybody who is likely to go in at any time." + +"Outside Mr. Challoner and Mr. Dane, there is myself, Mrs. Trennett, +the housekeeper, and Meston, the housemaid." + +"No one else?" + +"No one, sir, except, of course, the guests who might be staying in +the house." + +"I shall want the finger-prints of all those you have named, +including yours, Sir James." Malcolm Sage looked across at Sir James +Walton. "I can then identify those of any stranger that I may find." +Sir James nodded. + +"It would be quite easy for Mr. Challoner to let anyone in through +the French-windows?" enquired Malcolm Sage, turning once more to +Peters. + +"Quite, sir." + +"What time did Mr. Dane return last evening?" + +"I think about a quarter to eleven, sir. He went straight to his +room." + +"That will be all now. Tell Mr. Dane I should like to see him." + +Peters noiselessly withdrew. + +A few minutes later Dane entered the room. Malcolm Sage gave him a +keen, appraising look, then dropped his eyes. Dane was still acutely +nervous. His fingers moved jerkily and the corners of his mouth +twitched. + +"Will you tell me what took place yesterday between you and your +uncle?" said Malcolm Sage. + +Dane looked about him nervously, as an animal might who has been +trapped and seeks some means of escape. + +"We had a row," he began, then paused; "a terrible row," he added, +as if to emphasise the nature of the quarrel. + +"So I understand," said Malcolm Sage. "I know what it was about. +Just tell me what actually took place. In as few words as possible, +please." + +"A week ago I told my uncle of my engagement, and he was very angry +when he knew that my fiancée was--was---- + +"A secretary," suggested Malcolm Sage, without looking up. + +"Yes. He ordered me to break off the engagement at once, no matter +what it might cost." + +"He referred to his pocket rather than to your feelings, I take it?" +said Malcolm Sage. + +"Yes." There was a world of bitterness in the tone in which the word +was uttered. "I refused. Four days ago Sir James came and, I think, +talked things over with my uncle, who said he would see Enid, that +is, my fiancée. She came yesterday afternoon. My uncle insisted on +seeing her alone. She stayed only a few minutes." + +His voice broke. He swallowed rapidly several times in succession, +struggling to regain control of himself. + +"You walked back to the station with her," remarked Malcolm Sage, +"and she told you what had taken place. Your uncle had offered to +buy her off. You were furious. You said many wild and extravagant +things. Then you came back and went immediately into the library. +What took place there?" + +"I don't remember what I said. I think for the time I was insane. He +had actually offered her money, notes. He had drawn them out of the +bank on purpose." Again he stopped, as if the memory of the insult +were too much for him. + +"And you said?" suggested Malcolm Sage, twirling the wineglass +slowly between his thumb and finger. + +"I probably said what any other man would have said under similar +circumstances." There was a quiet dignity about the way in which he +uttered these words, although his fingers still continued to twitch. + +"Did he threaten you, or you him?" + +"I don't remember what I said; but my uncle told me that, unless I +wrote to Enid to-day giving her up and apologised to him, he would +telephone for his lawyer and make a fresh will, cutting me out of it +entirely. I was to have until the next morning to decide, that is, +to-day." + +Malcolm Sage still kept his eyes averted. He contended that to look +fixedly into the eyes of anyone undergoing interrogation was +calculated to confuse him and render the replies less helpful. + +"And what would your decision have been?" he asked. + +"I told him that if he gave me ten years it would be the same." + +"That you would not do as he wished?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Until this episode you were on good terms with each other?" Malcolm +Sage had got a dessert spoon and fork to balance on the blade of a +knife. + +"Yes." + +"You know of no reason why your uncle should take his life?" + +"None whatever." + +"This episode in itself would not be sufficient to cause him to +commit suicide?" + +"Certainly not. Sir James will tell you that he was a man of strong +character." + +"Do you believe he shot himself?" Malcolm Sage seemed absorbed in +the rise and fall of the balancing silver. + +"But for the locked door I should have said 'no.'" + +"What were you proposing to do in the light of your refusal to break +the engagement?" + +"I had everything packed up ready. I meant to go away this morning." + +"By the way, where did your uncle bank?" enquired Malcolm Sage +casually. + +"At the Southern Counties and Brown's Bank, Lewes," was the reply. + +"Thank you. That will do, I think, for the present. You had better +run round to your doctor and get him to give you something to steady +your nerves," said Malcolm Sage, with eyes that had lost their +professional glint. "They are all on edge." + +Dane glanced at him in surprise; but there was only a cone of +baldness visible. + +"Thank you," he said. "I think I will," and he turned and left the +room. He still seemed dazed and incapable of realising what was +taking place. + +Malcolm Sage rose and, walking over to the door, removed the key, +examined the wards intently, then replaced it and, opening the door, +walked across to the library. + + + + +CHAPTER III MALCOLM SAGE'S MYSTERIOUS MOVEMENTS + + + + +I + + +Malcolm Sage found that Dawkins had completed his work, and the body +of Mr. Challoner had been removed. + +Seating himself at the table, he took the automatic pistol in his +hand and deliberately removed the cartridges. Then placing the +muzzle against his right temple he turned his eyes momentarily on +Dawkins, who, having anticipated his wishes, had already adjusted +the camera. He removed the cap, replaced it, and then quickly +reversed the plate. + +Pulling the trigger, Malcolm Sage allowed his head to fall forward, +his right hand, which held the pistol, dropping on the table before +him. Dawkins took another photograph. + +"Now," said Malcolm Sage to Sir James. "You shoot me through the +right temple, approaching from behind. Grip my head as if you +expected me to resist." + +Sir James did as he was requested, Dawkins making another exposure. + +Malcolm Sage motioned Thompson to draw the curtains. Then dropping +on to his knees by the library door, he took the small mirror he had +borrowed from Miss Norman and, placing it partly beneath the door, +carefully examined the reflection by the aid of an electric torch. + +When he rose it was with the air of a man who had satisfied himself +upon some important point. He then turned to Sir James. + +"You might get those finger-prints," he said casually. "Get everyone +together in the dining-room. See that no one leaves it for at least +a quarter of an hour. Thompson will go with you." + +"Then you think it was murder?" questioned Sir James. + +"I would sooner say nothing just at the moment," was the reply. + +Whilst Sir James Walton and Thompson were occupied with a room-full +of domestics, talking in whispers as if in the presence of death, +Malcolm Sage was engaged in a careful examination of the bottoms of +all the doors in the house by means of a mirror placed upwards +beneath each. He also removed the keys and gave a swift look at the +wards of each. + +He moved quickly; yet without haste, as if his brain had entire +control of the situation. + +One door in particular appeared to interest him, so much so that he +entered the room and proceeded to examine it with great thoroughness, +taking the utmost care to replace everything as he found it. + +From the middle-drawer of the chest-of-drawers, he extracted from +under a pile of clothes a thin steel object, some five or six inches +in length, wound round with a fine, strong twine. This he slipped +into his pocket and, going down into the hall, rang up the manager +of the Lewes branch of the Southern Counties and Brown's Bank. + +Passing into the library, he searched the drawers of the table at +which Mr. Challoner had been found. In one of them he discovered the +pass-book. Seating himself at the table, he proceeded to examine it +carefully. Turning to the pockets at either end, where cancelled +cheques are usually placed, he found both were empty. + +When a few minutes later Sir James and Thompson entered with the +finger-prints, Malcolm Sage was seated at the table smoking, his +gaze concentrated upon the nail of the fourth finger of his right +hand. With him a contemplation of his finger-nails in general +indicated thoughtful attention; when, however, he raised the hand +and began to subject some particular finger-nail to a thorough and +elaborate examination, it generally meant the germination of some +constructive thesis. + +Taking the sheets of paper from Thompson, he went through them +rapidly, then drawing a sheet of note-paper from the rack before him +he scribbled a hasty note, enclosed it with one of the fingerprints +in an envelope, which he sealed, addressed, and handed to Thompson +with instructions to see that it was delivered without delay. He +also told him to send Peters and Dane to the library. + +Three minutes later Tims swung down the drive, his face beaming. He +was to drive to Scotland Yard and "never mind the poultry on the +road," as Thompson had phrased it. + +"Have you the key of the safe, Mr. Dane?" enquired Malcolm Sage as +the young man entered, followed by Peters. Dane shook his head and +looked at Peters. + +"Mr. Challoner always wore it on his key-chain, sir," said the +butler. + +"Have you any objection to the safe being opened?" enquired Malcolm +Sage to Dane. + +"None whatever." + +"Then perhaps you will open it?" said Malcolm Sage, turning to Sir +James. + +In the safe were found several bundles of letters and +share-certificates, and an old cash-box containing some loose +stamps; but nothing else. + +Malcolm Sage dismissed Peters and Dane, saying that he would be +returning to town after dinner. In the meantime he and Sir James +strolled about the grounds, discussing the remarkable rise in the +chess-world of Capablanca, whilst Dawkins was busily occupied in a +darkened bath-room. + +Dinner proved a far less sombre meal than luncheon. Malcolm Sage and +Sir James between them succeeded in placing young Dane more at his +ease. The haunted, shell-shock look left his eyes, and the twitching +disappeared from the corners of his mouth. + +It was nearly nine o'clock when the distant moan of a hooter +announced to Malcolm Sage's alert ears the return of Tims. He rose +from the table and walked slowly to the door, where for some seconds +he stood with his hand upon the knob. + +As the car drew up he slipped into the hall, just as Peters opened +the door. + +A moment later the butler started back, his right hand seemed to fly +to his left breast pocket. At the same moment Malcolm Sage sprang +forward. There was a flash, a report, and two bodies fell at the +feet of Inspector Wensdale, of Scotland Yard, and another man +standing beside him. + +In a second, however, they had thrown themselves upon the struggling +heap, and when Malcolm Sage rose to his feet it was to look down +upon Peters pinned to the floor by the inspector, with the strange +man sitting on his legs. + + + + +II + + +"There is no witness so sure as the camera," remarked Malcolm Sage +as he gazed from one to the other of two photographs before him, one +representing him holding an automatic pistol to his own head, and +the other in which Sir James was posing as a murderer. + +"It is strange that it should be so neglected at Scotland Yard," he +added. + +Silent and absorbed when engaged upon a problem, Malcolm Sage +resented speech as a sick man resents arrowroot. At other times he +seemed to find pleasure in lengthy monologues, invariably of a +professional nature. + +"But we use it a lot, Mr. Sage," protested Inspector Wensdale. + +"For recording the features of criminals," was the retort. "No, +Wensdale, you are obsessed by the finger-print heresy, quite +regardless of the fact that none but an amateur ever leaves such a +thing behind him, and the amateur is never difficult to trace." + +He paused for a moment; but the inspector made no comment. + +"The two greatest factors in the suppression of crime," continued +Malcolm Sage, "are photography and finger-prints. Both are in use at +Scotland Yard; but each in place of the other. Finger-prints are +regarded as clues, and photography is a means of identification, +whereas finger-prints are of little use except to identify past +offenders, and photography is the greatest aid to the actual tracing +of the criminal." + +Malcolm Sage never failed to emphasise the importance of photography +in the detection of crime. He probably used it more than all other +investigators put together. He contended that a photographic print +established for all time what the eye could only dimly register for +the moment, with the consequent danger of forgetfulness. + +As the links in a chain multiplied, it was frequently necessary to +refer to the scene of a crime, or tragedy, and then probably some +important point would crop up, which the eye had not considered of +sufficient importance to dwell upon. By then, in the case of a +murder, the body would have been removed, and everything about it +either re-ordered or obliterated. + +Malcolm Sage proceeded to stuff his pipe with tobacco which he drew +from the left-hand pocket of his jacket. He had discovered that a +rubber-lined pocket was the best and safest pouch. + +He picked up a third photograph and laid it beside the others. It +was a print of Mr. Challoner's head, showing, marked in ink, the +course of the bullet towards the left of the frontal bone. + +"A man shooting himself," began Malcolm Sage, "places the pistol in +a position so that the muzzle is directed towards the back of the +head. On the other hand, anyone approaching his victim from behind +would have a tendency to direct the muzzle towards the front of the +head. That is why I got Dawkins to take a photograph of me holding +the pistol to my head and of you holding it from behind. These +photographs will constitute the principal evidence at the trial." + +Sir James nodded. He was too interested to interrupt. + +"On this enlargement of the wound," continued Malcolm Sage, "you +will see an abrasion on the side nearer the ear, as if the head had +suddenly been jerked backwards between the time of the muzzle being +placed against the temple and the actual firing of the shot." + +Thompson leaned across to examine the photograph. + +"If the eyes of someone sitting at a table are suddenly and +unexpectedly covered from behind, the natural instinct is to jerk +backwards so that the head may be turned to see who it is. That is +exactly what occurred with Challoner. He jerked backwards, and the +barrel of the pistol grazed the skin and was deflected still more +towards the frontal bone." + +Sir James and Thompson exchanged glances. Dawkins stood by, a look +of happiness in his eyes. His beloved camera was justifying itself +once more. Inspector Wensdale breathed heavily. + +"Apart from all this, the position of the head on the table, and the +way in which the hand was holding the pistol, not to speak of the +curve of the arm, were unnatural. You get some idea of this from the +photograph that Dawkins took of me, although I could only simulate +death by relaxing the muscles. Again, the head would hardly be +likely to twist on to its side." + +"The doctor ought to have seen that," said the inspector. + +Another thing against the theory of suicide was that the second +joint of the first finger was pressing against the trigger. Mr. +Challoner was an expert shot, and would instinctively have used the +pad of the finger, not the second joint. + +"The next step," continued Malcolm Sage, "was how could anyone get +into the room and approach Challoner without being heard or +'sensed.'" + +"He must have been very much absorbed in what he was doing," +suggested Sir James. + +Malcolm Sage shook his head, and for a few seconds gazed at the +photographs before him. + +"You will remember there was nothing on the table in front of him. I +shall come to that presently. It is very unlikely that a man sitting +at a table would not be conscious of someone approaching him from +behind, no matter how quietly he stepped, _unless that man's +presence in the room were quite a normal and natural thing_. That +gave me the clue to Peters. He is the only person who could be in +the library without Challoner taking any notice of him. Consequently +it was easy for him to approach his master and shoot him." + +"But the locked door, sir," said Thompson. + +"That is a very simple matter. An ordinary lead-pencil, with a piece +of string tied to one end, put through the ring of the key to act as +a lever, the cord being passed beneath the door, will lock any door +in existence. The pencil can then be drawn under the door. This will +show how it's done." Malcolm Sage reached across for a sheet of +paper, and drew a rough sketch. + +[Illustration] + +"That is why you examined the under-edge of the door?" suggested Sir +James. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. "The marks of the cord were clearly defined and +reflected in the mirror. Had the key not been touched, it would have +helped." + +"How?" asked Inspector Wensdale. + +"By means of the string the key is turned only just to the point +where the lever falls through the hole to the floor. The fingers +would turn beyond that point, not being so delicate." + +"Mr. Sage, you're a wonder," burst out the inspector. + +"I then," proceeded Malcolm Sage, "examined all the other doors in +the house, and I found that of one room, which I after discovered to +be Peters', was heavily scored at the bottom. He had evidently +practised fairly extensively before putting the plan into operation. +He had also done the same thing with the library door, as there were +marks of more than one operation. Furthermore, he was wiser than to +take the risk of so clumsy a tool as a lead-pencil. He used this." + +Malcolm Sage drew from his pocket the roll of twine with the thin +steel instrument down the centre. It was a canvas-needle, to the eye +of which the cord was attached. + +"This was absolutely safe," he remarked. "Another thing I discovered +was that one lock, and only one lock in the house, had recently been +oiled--that of the library-door." + +Sir James nodded his head several times. There was something of +self-reproach in the motion. + +"Now," continued Malcolm Sage, "we come back to why a man should be +sitting at a table absorbed in gazing at nothing, and at a time when +most of the household are either in bed or preparing for bed." + +"Peters said that he was checking his pass-book," suggested Sir +James. + +"That is undoubtedly what he _was_ doing," continued Malcolm Sage, +"and Peters removed the passbook, put it in a drawer, first +destroying the cancelled cheques. He made a blunder in not replacing +the pass-book with something else. That was the last link in the +chain," he added. + +"I don't quite see----" began Sir James. + +"Perhaps you did not read of a case that was reported from New York +some eighteen months ago. It was very similar to that of Mr. +Challoner. A man was found shot through the head, the door being +locked on the inside, and a verdict of suicide was returned; but +there was absolutely no reason why he should have taken his life. + +"What actually happened was that Mr. Challoner went to his bank to +draw five hundred pounds with which he hoped to bribe his nephew's +fiancée. He trusted to the temptation of the actual money rather +than a cheque. When he was at the bank the manager once more asked +him to return his pass-book, which had not been balanced for several +months. He was very dilatory in such matters." + +"That is true," said Dane, speaking for the first time. + +"That evening he proceeded to compare it with his cheque-book. I +suspect that Peters had been forging cheques and he saw here what +would lead to discovery. Furthermore, there was a considerable sum +of money in the safe, and the quarrel between uncle and nephew +to divert suspicion. This, however, was mere conjecture--that +trouser-pocket photo, Dawkins," said Malcolm Sage, turning to the +photographer, who handed it across to him. + +"Now notice the position of those keys. They are put in head +foremost, and do not reach the bottom of the pocket. They had +obviously been taken away and replaced in the pocket as Challoner +sat there. Had he gone to the safe himself and walked back to his +chair, the position of the keys would have been quite different." + +Instinctively each man felt in his trousers pocket, and found in his +own bunch of keys a verification of the statement. + +"The whole scheme was too calculated and deliberate for an amateur," +said Malcolm Sage, knocking the ashes out of his pipe on to a brass +ashtray. "That is what prompted me to get the fingerprints of Peters, +so that I might send them to Scotland Yard to see if anything was +known of him there. The result you have seen." + +"We've been on the look-out for him for more than a year," said +Inspector Wensdale. "The New York police are rather interested in +him about a forgery stunt that took place there some time ago." + +"I am confident that when Challoner's affairs are gone into there +will be certain cheques which it will be difficult to explain. + +"Then, again, there was the electric light," proceeded Malcolm Sage. +"A man about to blow out his brains would certainly not walk across +the room, switch off the light, and then find his way back to the +table." + +"That's true enough," said Inspector Wensdale. + +"On the other hand, a murderer, who has to stand at a door for at +least some seconds, would not risk leaving on the light, which would +attract the attention of anyone who might by chance be in the hall, +or on the stairs." + +Inspector Wensdale caught Thompson's left eye, which deliberately +closed and then re-opened. There was a world of meaning in the +movement. + +"Well, I'm glad I didn't get you down on a fool's errand, Sage," +said Sir James, rising. "I wonder what the local inspector will +think." + +"He won't," remarked Malcolm Sage; "that is why he assumed it was +suicide." + +"Did you suspect Peters was armed?" enquired Sir James. + +"I saw the pistol under his left armpit," said Malcolm Sage. "It's +well known with American gunmen as a most convenient place for quick +drawing." + +"If it hadn't been for you, Mr. Sage, he'd have got me," said +Inspector Wensdale. + +"There'll be a heavy car-full for Tims," remarked Malcolm Sage, as +he walked towards the door. + + + + +CHAPTER IV THE SURREY CATTLE-MAIMING MYSTERY + + + +I + + +"Disguise," Malcolm Sage had once re-marked, "is the chief +characteristic of the detective of fiction. In actual practise it +is rarely possible. I am a case in point. No one but a builder, +or an engineer, could disguise the shape of a head like mine;" as +he spoke he had stroked the top of his head, which rose above his +strongly-marked brows like a down-covered cone. + +He maintained that a disguise can always be identified, although not +necessarily penetrated. This in itself would be sufficient to defeat +the end of the disguised man by rendering him an object of suspicion. +Few men can disguise their walk or bearing, no matter how clever +they might be with false beards, grease-paint and wigs. + +In this Malcolm Sage was a bitter disappointment to William Johnson, +the office junior. His conception of the sleuth-hound had been +tinctured by the vivid fiction with which he beguiled his spare time. + +In the heart of William Johnson there were three great emotions: his +hero-worship of Malcolm Sage, his romantic devotion to Gladys Norman, +and his wholesome fear of the robustious humour of Tims. + +In his more imaginative moments he would create a world in which he +was the recognised colleague of Malcolm Sage, the avowed admirer of +Miss Norman, and the austere employer of Tims--chauffeurs never took +liberties with the hair of their employers, no matter how knut-like +it might be worn. + +It was with the object of making sure of the first turret of his +castle in Spain, that William Johnson devoted himself to the earnest +study of what he conceived to be his future profession. + +He read voraciously all the detective stories and police-reports he +came across. Every moment he could snatch from his official duties +he devoted to some scrap of paper, booklet, or magazine. He strove +to cultivate his reasoning powers. Never did a prospective client +enter the Malcolm Sage Bureau without automatically setting into +operation William Johnson's mental induction-coil. With eyes that +were covertly keen, he would examine the visitor as he sat waiting +for the two sharp buzzes on the private telephone which indicated +that Malcolm Sage was at liberty. + +It mattered little to William Johnson that error seemed to dog his +footsteps; that he had "deduced" a famous pussyfoot admiral as a +comedian addicted to drink; a lord, with a ten century lineage, as a +man selling something or other; a Cabinet Minister as a company +promoter in the worst sense of the term; nothing could damp his zeal. + +Malcolm Sage's "cases" he studied as intimately as he could from his +position as junior; but they disappointed him. They seemed lacking +in that element of drama he found so enthralling in the literature +he read and the films he saw. + +Malcolm Sage would enter the office as Malcolm Sage, and leave it as +Malcolm Sage, as obvious and as easily recognisable as St. Paul's +Cathedral. He seemed indifferent to the dramatic possibilities of +disguise. + +William Johnson longed for some decrepit and dirty old man or woman +to enter the Bureau, selling boot-laces or bananas and, on being +peremptorily ordered out, to see the figure suddenly straighten +itself, and hear his Chief's well-known voice remark, "So you don't +recognise me, Johnson--good." There was romance. + +He yearned for a "property-room," where executive members of the +staff would disguise themselves beyond recognition. In his more +imaginative moments he saw come out from that mysterious room a +full-blooded Kaffir, whereas he knew that only Thompson had entered. + +He would have liked to see Miss Norman shed her pretty brunetteness +and reappear as an old apple-woman, who besought him to buy of her +wares. He even saw himself being transformed into a hooligan, or a +smart R.A.F. officer, complete with a toothbrush moustache and +"swish." + +In his own mind he was convinced that, given the opportunity, he +could achieve greatness as a master of disguise, rivalling the +highly-coloured stories of Charles Peace. He had even put his +theories to the test. + +One evening as Miss Norman, who had been working late, was on her +way to Charing Cross Underground Station, she was accosted by a +youth with upturned collar, wearing a shabby cap and a queer Charlie +Chaplain moustache that was not on straight. In a husky voice he +enquired his way to the Strand. + +"Good gracious, Johnnie!" she cried involuntarily. "What on earth's +the matter?" + +A moment later, as she regarded the vanishing form of William +Johnson, she wanted to kill herself for her lack of tact. + +"Poor little Innocent!" she had murmured as she continued down +Villiers Street, and there was in her eyes a reflection of the tears +she had seen spring to those of William Johnson, whose first attempt +at disguise had proved so tragic a failure. + +Neither ever referred to the incident subsequently--although for +days William Johnson experienced all the unenviable sensations of +Damocles. + +From that moment his devotion to Gladys Norman had become almost +worship. + +But William Johnson was not deterred, either by his own initial +failure or his chief's opinion. He resolutely stuck to his own +ideas, and continued to expend his pocket-money upon tinted glasses, +false-moustaches and grease paint; for hidden away in the inner +recesses of his mind was the conviction that it was not quite +playing the game, as the game should be played, to solve a mystery +or bring a criminal to justice without having recourse to disguise. + +It was to him as if Nelson had won the Battle of Trafalgar in a soft +hat and a burberry, or Wellington had met Blücher in flannels and +silk socks. + +Somewhere in the future he saw himself the head of a "William +Johnson Bureau," and in the illustrated papers a portrait of "Mr. +William Johnson as he is," and beneath it a series of characters +that would rival a Dickens novel, with another legend reading, "Mr. +William Johnson as he appears." + +With these day-dreams, the junior at the Malcolm Sage Bureau would +occupy the time when not actually engaged either in the performance +of his by no means arduous duties, or in reading the highly-coloured +detective stories from which he drew his inspiration. + +From behind the glass-panelled door would come the tick-tack of Miss +Norman's typewriter, whilst outside droned the great symphony of +London, growing into a crescendo as the door was opened, dying away +again as it fell to once more, guided by an automatic self-closer. + +From these reveries William Johnson would be aroused either by +peremptory blasts upon the buzzer of the private-telephone, or by +the entry of a client. + +One morning, as he was hesitating between assuming the disguise of a +naval commander and a street-hawker, a florid little man with purple +jowl and a white, bristling moustache hurtled through the swing-door, +followed by a tall, spare man, whose clothing indicated his clerical +calling. + +"Mr. Sage in?" demanded the little man fiercely. + +"Mr. Sage is engaged, sir," said the junior, his eyes upon the +clergyman, in whose appearance there was something that caused +William Johnson to like him on the spot. + +"Take my card in to him," said the little, bristly man. "Tell him +that General Sir John Hackblock wishes to see him immediately." The +tone was suggestive of the parade-ground rather than a London office. + +At that moment Gladys Norman appeared through the glass-panelled +door. The clergyman immediately removed his hat, the general merely +turned as if changing front to receive a new foe. + +"Mr. Sage will be engaged for about a quarter of an hour. I am his +secretary," she explained. She, also, looked at the general's +companion, wondering what sort of teeth were behind that gentle, yet +firm mouth. "Perhaps you will take a seat," she added. + +This time the clergyman smiled, and Gladys Norman knew that she too +liked him. Sir John looked about him aggressively, blew out his +cheeks several times, then flopped into a chair. His companion also +seated himself, and appeared to become lost in a fit of abstraction. + +William Johnson returned to his table and became engrossed, +ostensibly in the exploits of an indestructible trailer of men; but +really in a surreptitious examination of the two callers. + +He had just succeeded in deducing from their manner that they +were father and son, and from the boots of the younger that he +was low church and a bad walker, when two sharp blasts on the +telephone-buzzer brought him to his feet and half-way across the +office in what was practically one movement. With Malcolm Sage there +were two things to be avoided, delay in answering a summons, and +unnecessary words. + +"This way, sir," he said, and led them through the glass-panelled +door to Malcolm Sage's private room. + +With a short, jerky movement of his head Malcolm Sage motioned his +visitors to be seated. In that one movement his steel-coloured eyes +had registered a mental photograph of the two men. That glance +embraced all the details; the dark hair of the younger, greying at +the temples, the dreamy grey eyes, the gentle curves of a mouth that +was, nevertheless, capable of great sternness, and the spare, almost +lean frame; then the self-important, overbearing manner of the older +man. "High Anglican, ascetic, out-of-doors," was Malcolm Sage's +mental classification of the one, thus unconsciously reversing the +William Johnson's verdict. The other he dismissed as a pompous ass. + +"You Mr. Sage?" Sir John regarded the bald conical head and +gold-rimmed spectacles as if they had been unpolished buttons on +parade. + +Malcolm Sage inclined his head slightly, and proceeded to gaze down +at his fingers spread out on the table before him. After the first +appraising glance he rarely looked at a client. + +"I am Sir John Hackblock; this is my friend, the Rev. Geoffrey +Callice." + +Again a slight inclination of the head indicated that Malcolm Sage +had heard. + +Mr. Llewellyn John would have recognised in Sir John Hackblock the +last man in the world who should have been brought into contact with +Malcolm Sage. The Prime Minister's own policy had been to keep +Malcolm Sage from contact with other Ministers, and thus reduce the +number of his embarrassing resignations. + +"I want to consult you about a most damnable outrage," exploded the +general. "It's inconceivable that in this----" + +"Will you kindly be as brief as possible?" said Malcolm Sage, +fondling the lobe of his left ear. "I can spare only a few minutes." + +Sir John gasped, glared across at him angrily; then, seeming to take +himself in hand, continued: + +"You've heard of the Surrey cattle-maiming outrages?" he enquired. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"Well, this morning a brood-mare of mine was found hacked about in +an unspeakable manner. Oh, the damn scoundrels!" he burst out as he +jumped from his chair and began pacing up and down the room. + +"I think it will be better if Mr. Callice tells me the details," +said Malcolm Sage, evenly. "You seem a little over-wrought." + +"Over-wrought!" cried Sir John. "Over-wrought! Dammit, so would you +be if you had lost over a dozen beasts." In the army he was known as +"Dammit Hackblock." + +Mr. Callice looked across to the general, who, nodding acquiescence, +proceeded to blow his nose violently, as if to bid Malcolm Sage +defiance. + +"This morning a favourite mare belonging to Sir John was found +mutilated in a terrible manner----" Mr. Callice paused; there was +something in his voice that caused Malcolm Sage to look up. The +gentle look had gone from his face, his eyes flashed, and his mouth +was set in a stern, severe line. + +"Good preacher," Malcolm Sage decided as he dropped his eyes once +more, and upon his blotting pad proceeded to develop the Pons +Asinorum into a church. + +In a voice that vibrated with feeling and suggested great +self-restraint, Mr. Callice proceeded to tell the story of the +latest outrage. How when found that morning the mare was still alive, +of the terrible nature of her injuries, and that the perpetrator had +disappeared, leaving no trace. + +"Her look, sir! Dammit!" the general broke in. "Her eyes have +haunted me ever since. They----" His voice broke, and he proceeded +once more to blow his nose violently. + +Mr. Callice went on to explain that after having seen the mare put +out of her misery, Sir John had motored over to his lodgings and +insisted that they should go together to Scotland Yard and demand +that something be done. + +"Callice is Chairman of the Watchers' Committee," broke in Sir John. + +"I should explain," proceeded Mr. Callice, "that some time ago we +formed ourselves into a committee to patrol the neighbourhood at +night in the hope of tracing the criminal. On the way up Sir John +remembered hearing of you in connection with Department Z and, as he +was not satisfied with his call at Scotland Yard, he decided to come +on here and place the matter in your hands." + +"This is the twenty-ninth maiming?" Malcolm Sage remarked, as he +proceeded to add a graveyard to the church. + +"Yes, the first occurred some two years ago." Then, as if suddenly +realising what Malcolm Sage's question implied, he added: "You have +interested yourself in the affair?" + +"Yes," was the reply. "Tell me what has been done." + +"The police seem utterly at fault," continued Mr. Callice. "Locally +we have organised watch-parties. My boys and I have been out night +after night; but without result. I am a scout-master," he explained. + +"The poor beasts' sufferings are terrible," he continued after a +slight pause. "It is a return to barbarism;" again there was the +throb of indignation in his voice. + +"You have discovered nothing?" + +"Nothing," was the response, uttered in a tone of deep despondency. +"We have even tried bloodhounds; but without result." + +"And now I want you to take up the matter, and don't spare expense," +burst out Sir John, unable to contain himself longer. + +"I will consider the proposal and let you know," said Malcolm Sage, +evenly. "As it is, my time is fully occupied at present; but +later----" He never lost an opportunity of resenting aggression by +emphasising the democratic tendency of the times. Mr. Llewellyn John +had called it "incipient Bolshevism." + +"Later!" cried Sir John in consternation. "Why, dammit, sir! there +won't be an animal left in the county. This thing has been going on +for two years now, and those damn fools at Scotland Yard----" + +"If it were not for Scotland Yard," said Malcolm Sage quietly, as he +proceeded to shingle the roof of the church, the graveyard having +proved a failure, "we should probably have to sleep at night with +pistols under our pillows." + +"Eh!" Sir John looked across at him with a startled expression. + +"Scotland Yard is the head-quarters of the most efficient and +highly-organised police force in the world," was the quiet reply. + +"But, dammit! if they're so clever why don't they put a stop to this +torturing of poor dumb beasts?" cried the general indignantly. "I've +shown them the man. It's Hinds; I know it. I've just been to see +that fellow Wensdale. Why, dammit! he ought to be cashiered, and I +told him so." + +"Who is Hinds?" Malcolm Sage addressed the question to Mr. Callice. + +"He used to be Sir John's head gamekeeper----" + +"And I discharged him," exploded the general. "I'll shoot a poacher +or his dog; but, dammit! I won't set traps for them," and he puffed +out his cheeks aggressively. + +"Hinds used to set traps to save himself the trouble of patrolling +the preserves," explained Mr. Callice, "and one day Sir John +discovered him actually watching the agonies of a dog caught across +the hind-quarters in a man-trap." Again there was the wave of +feeling in the voice, and a stern set about the mouth. + +"It's Hinds right enough," cried the general with conviction. "The +man's a brute. Now will you----?" + +"I will let you know as soon as possible whether or no I can take up +the enquiry," said Malcolm Sage, rising. "I fear that is the best I +can promise." + +"But----" began Sir John; then he stopped and stared at Malcolm Sage +as he moved towards the door. + +"Dammit! I don't care what it costs," he spluttered explosively. +"It'll be worth five hundred pounds to the man who catches the +scoundrel. Poor Betty," he added in a softer tone. + +"I will write to you shortly," said Malcolm Sage. There was +dismissal in his tone. + +With darkened jowl and bristling moustache Sir John strutted towards +the door. Mr. Callice paused to shake hands with Malcolm Sage, and +then followed the general, who, with a final glare at William +Johnson, as he held open the swing-door, passed out into the street, +convinced that now the country was no longer subject to conscription +it would go rapidly to the devil. + +For the next half-hour Malcolm Sage pored over a volume of +press-cuttings containing accounts of previous cattle-maimings. + +Following his usual custom in such matters, he had caused the +newspaper accounts of the various mutilations to be collected and +pasted in a press-cutting book. Sooner or later he had determined to +devote time to the affair. + +Without looking up from the book he pressed three times in rapid +succession a button of the private-telephone. Instantly Gladys +Norman appeared, note-book in hand. She had been heard to remark +that if she were dead "three on the buzzer" would bring her to life +again. + +"Whitaker and Inspector Wensdale," said Malcolm Sage, his eyes still +on the book before him. + +When deep in a problem Malcolm Sage's economy in words made it +difficult for anyone but his own staff to understand his +requirements. + +Without a word the girl vanished and, a moment later, William +Johnson placed _Whitaker's Almanack_ on the table, then he in turn +disappeared as silently as Gladys Norman. + +Malcolm Sage turned to the calendar, and for some time studied the +pages devoted to the current month (June) and July. As he closed +the book there were three buzzes from the house-telephone, the +signal that he was through to the number required. Drawing the +pedestal-instrument towards him, he put the receiver to his ear. + +"That Inspector Wensdale?--Yes! Mr. Sage speaking. It's about the +cattle-maiming business.--I've just heard of it.--I've not decided +yet. I want a large-scale map of the district, with the exact spot +of each outrage indicated, and the date.--To-morrow will do.--Yes, +come round. Give me half an hour with the map first." + +Malcolm Sage replaced the receiver as the buzzer sounded, announcing +another client. + + + + +II + + +"So there is nothing?" Malcolm Sage looked up enquiringly from the +map before him. + +"Nothing that even a stage detective could turn into a clue," said +Inspector Wensdale, a big, cleanshaven man with hard, alert eyes. + +Malcolm Sage continued his study of the map. + +"Confound those magazine detectives!" the inspector burst out +explosively. "They've always got a dust-pan full of clues ready made +for 'em." + +"To say nothing of finger-prints," said Malcolm Sage dryly. He never +could resist a sly dig at Scotland Yard's faith in finger-prints as +clues instead of means of identification. + +"It's a bit awkward for me, too, Mr. Sage," continued the inspector, +confidentially. "Last time _The Daily Telegram_ went for us +because----" + +"You haven't found a dust-pan full of clues?" suggested Malcolm Sage, +who was engaged in forming geometrical designs with spent matches. + +"They're getting a bit restive, too, at the Yard," he continued. He +was too disturbed in mind for flippancy. "It was this cattle-maiming +business that sent poor old Scott's number up," he added, referring +to Detective Inspector Scott's failure to solve the mystery. "Now +the general's making a terrible row. Threatens me with the +Commissioner." + +For some seconds Malcolm Sage devoted himself to his designs. + +"Any theory?" he enquired at length, without looking up. + +"I've given up theorising," was the dour reply. + +In response to a further question as to what had been done, the +inspector proceeded to detail how the whole neighbourhood had been +scoured after each maiming, and how, night after night, watchers had +been posted throughout the district, but without result. + +"I have had men out night and day," continued the inspector gloomily. +"He's a clever devil whoever he is. It's my opinion the man's a +lunatic," he added. + +Malcolm Sage looked up slowly. + +"What makes you think that?" he asked. + +"His cunning, for one thing," was the reply. "Then it's so senseless. +No," he added with conviction, "he's no more an ordinary man than +Jack-the-Ripper was." + +He went on to give details of his enquiries among those living in +the district. There was absolutely nothing to attach even the +remotest suspicion to any particular person. Rewards had been +offered for information; but all without producing the slightest +evidence or clue. + +"This man Hinds?" enquired Malcolm Sage, looking about for more +matches. + +"Oh! the general's got him on the brain. Absolutely nothing in it. +I've turned him inside out. Why, even the Deputy Commissioner had a +go at him, and if he can get nothing out of a man, there's nothing +to get out." + +"Well," said Malcolm Sage rising, "keep the fact to yourself that I +am interested. I suppose, if necessary, you could arrange for twenty +or thirty men to run down there?" he queried. + +"The whole blessed Yard if you like, Mr. Sage," was the feeling +reply. + +"We'll leave it at that for the present then. By the way, if you +happen to think you see me in the neighbourhood you needn't remember +that we are acquainted." + +The inspector nodded comprehendingly and, with a heart lightened +somewhat of its burden, he departed. He had an almost child-like +faith in Malcolm Sage. + +For half an hour Malcolm Sage sat engrossed in the map of the scene +of the maimings. On it were a number of red-ink crosses with figures +beneath. In the left-hand bottom corner was a list of the various +outrages, with the date and the time, as near as could be +approximated, against each. + +The numbers in the bottom corner corresponded with those beneath the +crosses. + +From time to time he referred to the two copies of _Whitaker's +Almanack_ open before him, and made notes upon the writing-pad at +his side. Finally he ruled a square upon the map in red ink, and +then drew two lines diagonally from corner to corner. Then without +looking up from the map, he pressed one of the buttons of the +private-telephone. "Tims," he said through the mouthpiece. + +Five minutes later Malcolm Sage's chauffeur was standing opposite +his Chief's table, ready to go anywhere and do anything. + +"To-morrow will be Sunday, Tims." + +"Yessir." + +"A day of rest." + +"Yessir!" + +"We are going out to Hempdon, near Selford," Malcolm Sage continued, +pointing to the map. Tims stepped forward and bent over to identify +the spot. "The car will break down. It will take you or any other +mechanic two hours to put it right." + +"Yessir," said Tims, straightening himself. + +"You understand," said Malcolm Sage, looking at him sharply, "you +_or any other mechanic?"_ + +"Yessir," repeated Tims, his face sphinx-like in its lack of +expression. + +He was a clean-shaven, fleshless little man who, had he not been a +chauffeur, would probably have spent his life with a straw between +his teeth, hissing lullabies to horses. + +"I shall be ready at nine," said Malcolm Sage, and with another +"Yessir" Tims turned to go. + +"And Tims." + +"Yessir." He about-faced smartly on his right heel. "You might +apologise for me to Mrs. Tims for depriving her of you on Sunday. +Take her out to dinner on Monday and charge it to me." + +"Thank you, sir, very much, sir," said Tims, his face expressionless. + +"That is all, Tims, thank you." + +Tims turned once more and left the room. As he walked towards the +outer door he winked at Gladys Norman and, with a sudden dive, made +a frightful riot of William Johnson's knut-like hair. Then, without +change of expression, he passed out to tune up the car for its run +on the morrow. + +Malcolm Sage's staff knew that when "the Chief" was what Tims called +"chatty" he was beginning to see light, so Tims whistled loudly at +his work: for he, like all his colleagues, was pleased when "the +Chief" saw reason to be pleased. + +The following morning, as they trooped out of church, the +inhabitants of Hempdon were greatly interested in the break-down of +a large car, which seemed to defy the best efforts of the chauffeur +to coax into movement. The owner drank cider at the Spotted +Woodpigeon and talked pleasantly with the villagers, who, on +learning that he had never even heard of the Surrey cattle-maimings, +were at great pains to pour information and theories into his +receptive ear. + +The episode quite dwarfed the remarkable sermon preached by Mr. +Callice, in which he exhorted his congregation to band themselves +together to track down him who was maiming and torturing God's +creatures, and defying the Master's merciful teaching. + +It was Tom Hinds, assisted by a boy scout, who conducted Malcolm +Sage to the scene of the latest outrage. It was Hinds who described +the position of the mare when she was discovered, and it was he who +pocketed two half-crowns as the car moved off Londonwards. + +That evening Malcolm Sage sat long and late at his table, engrossed +in the map that Inspector Wensdale had sent him. + +Finally he subjected to a thorough and exhaustive examination the +thumb-nail of his right hand. It was as if he saw in its polished +surface the tablets of destiny. + +The next morning he wrote a letter that subsequently caused Sir John +Hackblock to explode into a torrent of abuse of detectives in +general and one investigator in particular. It stated in a few words +that, owing to circumstances over which he had no control, Malcolm +Sage would not be able to undertake the enquiry with which Sir John +Hackblock had honoured him until the end of the month following. He +hoped, however, to communicate further with his client soon after +the 23rd of that month. + + + + +CHAPTER V INSPECTOR WENSDALE IS SURPRISED + + + + +I + + +Nearly a month had elapsed, and the cattle-maiming mystery seemed as +far off solution as ever. The neighbourhood in which the crimes had +been committed had once more settled down to its usual occupations, +and Scotland Yard had followed suit. + +Sir John Hackblock had written to the Chief Commissioner and a +question had been asked in the House. + +Inspector Wensdale's colleagues had learned that it was dangerous to +mention in his presence the words "cattle" or "maiming." The +inspector knew that the affair was referred to as "Wensdale's +Waterloo," and his failure to throw light on the mystery was +beginning to tell upon his nerves. + +For three weeks he had received no word from Malcolm Sage. One +morning on his arrival at Scotland Yard he was given a telephone +message asking him to call round at the Bureau during the day. + +"Nothing new?" queried Malcolm Sage ten minutes later, as the +inspector was shown into his room by Thompson. + +The inspector shook a gloomy head and dropped his heavy frame into a +chair. + +Malcolm Sage indicated with a nod that Thompson was to remain. + +"Can you borrow a couple of covered government lorries?" queried +Malcolm Sage. + +"A couple of hundred if necessary," said the inspector dully. + +"Two will be enough," was the dry rejoinder. "Now listen carefully, +Wensdale. I want you to have fifty men housed some ten miles away +from Hempdon on the afternoon of the 22nd. Select men who have done +scouting, ex-boy scouts, for preference. Don't choose any with bald +heads or with very light hair. See that they are wearing dark +clothes and dark shirts and, above all, no white collars. Take with +you a good supply of burnt cork such as is used by nigger +minstrels." + +Malcolm Sage paused, and for the fraction of a second there was a +curious fluttering at the corners of his mouth. + +Inspector Wensdale was sitting bolt upright in his chair, gazing at +Malcolm Sage as if he had been requested to supply two lorry-loads +of archangels. + +"It will be moonlight, and caps might fall off," explained Malcolm +Sage. "You cannot very well ask a man to black his head. Above all," +he continued evenly, "be sure you give no indication to anyone why +you want the men, and tell them not to talk. You follow me?" he +queried. + +"Yes," said the inspector, "I--I follow." + +"Don't go down Hempdon way again, and tell no one in the +neighbourhood; _no one_, you understand, is to know anything about +it. Don't tell the general, for instance." + +"Him!" There was a world of hatred and contempt in the inspector's +voice. Then he glanced a little oddly at Malcolm Sage. + +Malcolm Sage went on to elaborate his instructions. The men were to +be divided into two parties, one to form a line north of the scene +of the last outrage, and the other to be spread over a particular +zone some three miles the other side of Hempdon. They were to +blacken their faces and hands, and observe great care to show no +light colouring in connection with their clothing. Thus they would +be indistinguishable from their surroundings. + +"You will go with one lot," said Malcolm Sage to the inspector, "and +my man Finlay with the other. Thompson and I will be somewhere in +the neighbourhood. You will be given a pass-word for purposes of +identification. You understand?" + +"I think so," said the inspector, in a tone which was suggestive +that he was very far from understanding. + +"I'll have everything typed out for you, and scale-plans of where +you are to post your men. Above all, don't take anyone into your +confidence." + +Inspector Wensdale nodded and looked across at Thompson, as if to +assure himself that after all it really was not some huge joke. + +"If nothing happens on the 22nd, we shall carry-on the second, third, +and fourth nights. In all probability we shall catch our man on the +23rd." + +"Then you know who it is?" spluttered the inspector in astonishment. + +"I hope to know on the 23rd," said Malcolm Sage dryly, as he rose +and walked towards the door. Directness was his strong point. Taking +the hint, Inspector Wensdale rose also and, with the air of a man +not yet quite awake, passed out of the room. + +"You had better see him to-morrow, Thompson," said Malcolm Sage, +"and explain exactly how the men are to be disposed. Make it clear +that none must show themselves. If they actually see anyone in the +act, they must track him, not try to take him." + +Thompson nodded his head comprehendingly. + +"Make it clear that they are there to watch; but I doubt if they'll +see anything," he added. + + + + +II + + +At eleven o'clock on the night of July the 23rd, two motor lorries +glided slowly along some three miles distant from one another. From +their interiors silent forms dropped noiselessly on to the moon-white +road. A moment later, slipping into the shadow of the hedge, they +disappeared. All the previous night men had watched and waited; but +nothing had happened. Now they were to try again. + +Overhead the moon was climbing the sky, struggling against masses of +cloud that from time to time swung themselves across her disc. + +In the village of Hempdon all was quiet. The last light had been +extinguished, the last dog had sent forth a final challenging bark, +hoping that some neighbouring rival would answer and justify a +volume of canine protest. + +On the western side of the highway, and well behind the houses, two +figures were standing in the shadow cast by a large oak. Their faces +and hands were blackened, rendering them indistinguishable from +their surroundings. + +One wore a shade over a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, a precaution +against the moonlight being reflected on the lenses. + +Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half passed. They waited. +Presently one gripped the arm of the other and pointed. At the back +of the house immediately-opposite there was a slight movement in the +shade cast by a hedge. Then the line readjusted itself and the +shadow vanished. A moment later it reappeared in a patch of +moonlight, looking like a large dog. + +Stooping low Malcolm Sage and Thompson followed the dog-like form, +themselves taking advantage of every patch of shadow and cover that +offered. + +The mysterious form moved along deliberately and without haste, now +disappearing in the shadow cast by some tree or bush, now +reappearing once more on the other side. + +It was obviously taking advantage of everything that tended to +conceal its movements. + +Once it disappeared altogether, and for five minutes the two +trackers lay on their faces and waited. + +"Making sure he's not being followed," whispered Thompson, and +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +Presently the figure appeared once more and, as if reassured, +continued its slow and deliberate way. + +Once a dog barked, a short, sharp bark of uncertainty. Again there +was no sign of the figure for some minutes. Then it moved out from +the surrounding shadows and continued its stealthy progress. + +Having reached the outskirts of the village, it continued its +crouching course along the western side of the hedge flanking the +roadside. + +Malcolm Sage and Thompson followed under the shadow of a hedge +running parallel. + +For a mile the slow and laborious tracking continued. Suddenly +Malcolm Sage stopped. In the field on their right two horses were +grazing in the moonlight. It was the scene of the tragedy of the +month previous! + +For some minutes they waited expectantly. Suddenly Malcolm Sage +gripped Thompson's arm and pointed. From under the hedge a dark +patch was moving slowely towards the nearer of the two animals. It +was apparently the form of a man, face downward, wriggling along +inch by inch without bending a limb. + +"Get across. Cut off his retreat," whispered Sage. "Look out for the +knife." + +Thompson nodded and slid away under cover of the hedge separating +the field in which the horses were from that along which the +watchers had just passed. + +Slowly the form approached its quarry. Once the horse lifted its +head as though scenting danger; but the figure was approaching +upwind. + +Suddenly it raised itself, appearing once more like a large dog. +Then with a swift, panther-like movement it momentarily disappeared +in the shadow cast by the horse. + +There was a muffled scream and a gurgle, as the animal collapsed, +then silence. + +A minute later the form seemed to detach itself from the carcase and +wriggled along towards the hedge, a dark patch upon the grass. + +Malcolm Sage was already half-way through the second field, keeping +well under the shelter of the hedge. He reached a spot where the +intersecting hedge joined that running parallel with the highroad. +There was a hole sufficiently large for a man to crawl through from +one field to the other. By this Malcolm Sage waited, a life-preserver +in his hand. + +At the sound of the snapping of a twig, he gripped his weapon; a +moment later a round, dark shape appeared through the hole in the +hedge. Without hesitating Malcolm Sage struck. + +There was a sound, half grunt, half sob, and Malcolm Sage was on his +feet gazing down at the strangest creature he had ever encountered. + +Clothed in green, its face and hands smeared with some pigment of +the same colour, lay the figure of a tall man. Round the waist was a +belt from which was suspended in its case a Gurkha's kukri. + +Malcolm Sage bent down to unbuckle the belt. He turned the man on +his back. As he did so he saw that in his hand was a small, +collapsible tin cup covered with blood, which also stained his lips +and chin, and dripped from his hands, whilst the front of his +clothing was stained in dark patches. + +"I wonder who he is," muttered Thompson, as he gazed down at the +strange figure. + +"Locally he is known as the Rev. Geoffrey Callice," remarked Malcolm +Sage quietly. + +And Thompson whistled. + + + + +III + + +"And that damned scoundrel has been fooling us for two years." Sir +John Hackblock glared at Inspector Wensdale as if it were he who was +responsible for the deception. + +They were seated smoking in Sir John's library after a particularly +early breakfast. + +"I always said it was the work of a madman," said the inspector in +self-defence. + +"Callice is no more mad than I am," snapped Sir John. "I wish I were +going to try him," he added grimly. "The scoundrel! To think----" +His indignation choked him. + +"He is not mad in the accepted sense," said Malcolm Sage as he +sucked meditatively at his pipe. "I should say that it is a case of +race-memory." + +"Race-memory! Dammit! what's that?" Sir John Hackblock snapped out +the words in his best parade-ground manner. He was more purple than +ever about the jowl, and it was obvious that he was prepared to +disagree with everyone and everything. As Lady Hackblock and her +domestics would have recognised without difficulty, Sir John was +angry. + +"How the devil did you spot the brute?" he demanded, as Malcolm Sage +did not reply immediately. + +"Race-memory," he remarked, ignoring the question, "is to man what +instinct is to animals; it defies analysis or explanation." + +Sir John stared; but it was Inspector Wensdale who spoke. + +"But how did you manage to fix the date, Mr. Sage?" he enquired. + +"By the previous outrages," was the reply. + +"The previous outrages!" cried Sir John. "Dammit! how did they help +you?" + +"They all took place about the time the moon was at the full. There +were twenty-eight in all." Malcolm Sage felt in his pocket and drew +out a paper. "These are the figures." + +In his eagerness Sir John snatched the paper from his hand, and with +Inspector Wensdale looking over his shoulder, read: + + Day before full moon . . . . 4 + Full moon . . . . . . 15 + Day after . . . . . . 7 + Second day after . . . . . 2 + -- + Total 28 . . . . . . 28 + +"Well, I'm damned!" exclaimed Sir John, looking up from the paper at +Malcolm Sage, as if he had solved the riddle of the universe. + +The inspector's only comment was a quick indrawing of breath. + +Sir John continued to stare at Malcolm Sage, the paper still held in +his hand. + +"That made matters comparatively easy," continued Malcolm Sage. "The +outrages were clearly not acts of revenge upon any particular +person; for they involved nine different owners. They were obviously +the work of someone subject to a mania, or obsession, which gripped +him when the moon was at the full." + +"But how did you fix the actual spot?" burst out Inspector Wensdale +excitedly. + +"Each of the previous acts had been either in a diametrically +opposite direction from that immediately preceding it, or +practically on the same spot. For instance, the first three were +north, east, and south of Hempdon, in the order named. Then the +cunning of the perpetrator prompted him to commit a fourth, not to +the west; but to the south, within a few yards of the previous act. +The criminal argued, probably subconsciously, that he would be +expected to complete the square." + +"But what made you fix on Hempdon as the headquarters of the +blackguard?" enquired Sir John. + +"That was easy," remarked Malcolm Sage, polishing the thumb-nail of +his left hand upon the palm of his right. + +"Easy!" The exclamation burst involuntarily from the inspector. + +"You supplied me with a large scale-map showing the exact spot where +each of the previous maimings had taken place. I drew a square to +embrace the whole. Lines drawn diagonally from corner to corner gave +me the centre of gravity." + +"But----" began the inspector. + +Ignoring the interruption Malcolm Sage continued. + +"A man committing a series of crimes from a given spot was bound to +spread his operations over a fairly wide area in order to minimise +the chance of discovery. The longer the period and the larger the +number of comes, the greater the chance of his being located +somewhere near the centre of his activities." + +"Well, I'm damned!" remarked Sir John for the second time. Then +suddenly turning to Inspector Wensdale, "Dammit!" he exploded, "why +didn't you think of that?" + +"There was, of course, the chance of his striking in another +direction," continued Malcolm Sage, digging into the bowl of his +pipe with a penknife, "so I placed the men in such a way that if he +did so he was bound to be seen." + +Inspector Wensdale continued to gaze at him, eager to hear more. + +"But what was that you said about race-memory?" Sir John had quieted +down considerably since Malcolm Sage had begun his explanation. + +"I should describe it as a harking back to an earlier phase. It is +to the mind what atavism is to the body. In breeding, for +instance"--Malcolm Sage looked across to Sir John--"you find that +an offspring will manifest characteristics, or a taint, that is not +to be found in either sire or dam." + +Sir John nodded. + +"Well, race-memory is the same thing in regard to the mental plane, +a sort of subconscious wave of reminiscence. In Callice's case it +was in all probability the memory of some sacrificial rite of his +ancestors centuries ago." + +"A case of heredity." + +"Broadly speaking, yes. At the full moon this particular tribe, +whose act Callice has reproduced, was in the habit of slaughtering +some beast, or beasts, and drinking the blood, probably with the +idea of absorbing their strength or their courage. Possibly the +surroundings at Hempdon were similar to those where the act of +sacrifice was committed in the past. + +"It must be remembered that Callice was an ascetic, and consequently +highly subjective. Therefore when the wave of reminiscence is +taken in conjunction with the surroundings, the full moon and +his high state of subjectivity, it is easy to see that material +considerations might easily be obliterated. That is why I watched +the back entrance to his lodgings." + +"And all the time we were telling him our plans," murmured the +inspector half to himself. + +"Yes, and he would go out hunting himself," said Sir John. "Damn +funny, I call it. Anyway, he'll get seven years at least." + +"When he awakens he will remember nothing about it. You cannot +punish a man for a subconscious crime." + +Sir John snorted indignantly; but Inspector Wensdale nodded his head +slowly and regretfully. + +"Anyway, I owe you five hundred pounds," said Sir John to Malcolm +Sage; "and, dammit! it's worth it," he added. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders as he rose to go. + +"I was sorry to have to hit him," he said regretfully, "but I was +afraid of that knife. A man can do a lot of damage with a thing like +that. That's why I told you not to let your men attempt to take him, +Wensdale." + +"How did you know what sort of knife it was?" asked the inspector. + +"Oh! I motored down here, and the car broke down. Incidentally I +made a lot of acquaintances, including Callice's patrol-leader, a +bright lad. He told me a lot of things about Callice and his ways. A +remarkable product the boy scout," he added. "Kipling calls him 'the +friend of all the world.'" + +Sir John looked across at Inspector Wensdale, who was strongly +tempted to wink. + +"Don't think too harshly of Callice," said Malcolm Sage as he shook +hands with Sir John. "It might easily have been you or I, had we +been a little purer in mind and thought." + +And with that he passed out of the room with Inspector Wensdale +followed by Sir John Hackblock, who was endeavouring to interpret +the exact meaning of the remark. + +"They said he was a clever devil," he muttered as he returned to the +library after seeing his guests off, "and, dammit! they were right." + + + + +CHAPTER VI THE STOLEN ADMIRALTY MEMORANDUM + + + + +I + + +"Well," cried Tims, one Saturday night, as he pushed open the +kitchen door of the little flat he occupied over the garage. "How's +the cook, the stove, and the supper?" + +"I'm busy," said Mrs. Tims, a little, fair woman, with blue eyes, an +impertinent nose, and the inspiration of neatness in her dress, as +she altered the position of a saucepan on the stove and put two +plates into the oven to warm. + +This was the invariable greeting between husband and wife. Tims went +up behind her, gripped her elbows to her side, and kissed her +noisily. + +"I told you I was busy," she said. + +"You did, Emmelina," he responded. "I heard you say so, and how's +his Nibs?" + +The last remark was addressed to an object that was crawling towards +him with incoherent cries and gurgles of delight. Stooping down, +Tims picked up his eighteen-months-old son and held him aloft, +chuckling and mouthing his glee. + +"You'll drop him one of these days," said Mrs. Tims, "and then +there'll be a pretty hullaballoo." + +"Well, he's fat enough to bounce," was the retort. "Ain't you, +Jimmy?" + +Neither Tims nor Mrs. Tims seemed to be conscious that without +variations these same remarks had been made night after night, week +after week, month after month. + +"How's Mr. Sage?" was the question with which Mrs. Tims always +followed the reference to the bouncing of Jimmy. + +"Like Johnny Walker, still going strong," glibly came the reply, +just as it came every other night. "He was asking about you to-day," +added Tims. + +"About me?" Mrs. Tims turned, all attention, her cooking for the +time forgotten. + +"Yes, wanted to know when I was going to divorce you." + +"Don't be silly, Jim," she cried. "What did he say, really now?" she +added as she turned once more to the stove. + +"Oh! he just asked if you were well," replied Tims, more interested +in demonstrating with the person of his son how an aeroplane left +the ground than in his wife's question. + +"Anything else?" enquired Mrs. Tims, prodding a potato with a fork +to see if it was done. + +Tims was not deceived by the casual tone in which the question was +asked. He was wont to say that, if his wife wanted his back teeth, +she would get them. + +"Nothing, my dear, only to ask if his Nibs was flourishin'," and +with a gurgle of delight the aeroplane soared towards the ceiling. + +Mrs. Tims had not forgotten the time when Malcolm Sage visited her +several times when she was ill with pneumonia. She never tired of +telling her friends of his wonderful knowledge of household affairs. +He had talked to her of cooking, of childish ailments, of shopping, +in a way that had amazed her. His knowledge seemed universal. He had +explained to her among other things how cracknel biscuits were made +and why croup was so swift in its action. + +Tims vowed that the Chief had done her more good than the doctor, +and from that day Malcolm Sage had occupied chief place in Mrs. +Tims's valhalla. + +"Quaint sort o' chap, the Chief," Tims would remark sometimes in +connection with some professional episode. + +"Pity you're not as quaint," would flash back the retort from Mrs. +Tims, whose conception of loyalty was more literal than that of her +husband. + +Supper finished and his Nibs put to bed, Tims proceeded to enjoy his +pipe and evening paper, whilst Mrs. Tims got out her sewing. From +time to time Tims's eyes would wander over towards the telephone in +the corner. + +Finally he folded up the paper, and proceeded to knock out the ashes +from his pipe preparatory to going to bed. His eyes took a last look +at the telephone just as Mrs. Tims glanced up. + +"Don't sit there watching that telephone," she cried, "anyone would +think you were wanting----" + +"Brrrrrrr--brrrrrrr--brrrrrr," went the bell. + +"Now perhaps you're happy," cried Mrs. Tims as he rose to answer the +call, whilst she put on the kettle to make hot coffee to fill the +thermos flasks without which she never allowed the car to go out at +night. It was her tribute to "the Chief." + + + + +II + + +In his more expansive moments Malcolm Sage would liken himself to a +general practitioner in a diseased-infected district. It is true +that there was no speaking-tube, with its terrifying whistle, a few +feet from his head; but the telephone by his bedside was always +liable to arouse him from sleep at any hour of the night. + +As Tims had folded up his newspaper with a view to bed, Malcolm Sage +was removing his collar before the mirror on his dressing-table, +when his telephone bell rang. Rogers, his man, looked +interrogatingly at his master, who, shaking his head, passed over to +the instrument and took up the receiver. + +"Yes, this is Malcolm Sage--Speaking--Yes." Then for a few minutes +he listened with an impassive face. "I'll be off within ten +minutes--The Towers, Holdingham, near Guildford--I understand." + +While he was speaking, Rogers, a little sallow-faced man with +fish-like eyes and expressionless face, had moved over to the other +telephone and was droning in a monotonous, uninflected voice, "Chief +wants car in five minutes." + +It was part of Malcolm Sage's method to train his subordinates to +realise the importance of intelligent and logical inference. + +Returning to the dressing-table, Malcolm Sage took up another collar, +slipped a tie between the fold, and proceeded to put it on. + +As he did so he gave instructions to Rogers, who, note-book in hand, +and with an expression of indifference that seemed to say "Kismet," +silently recorded his instructions. + +"My address will be The Towers, Holdingham, near Guildford. Be on +the look-out for messages." + +Without a word Rogers closed the book and, picking up a suit-case, +which was always ready for emergencies, he left the room. Two +minutes later Malcolm Sage followed and, without a word, entered the +closed car that had just drawn up before his flat in the Adelphi. + +Rogers returned to the flat, switched the telephone on to his own +room, and prepared himself for the night, whilst Malcolm Sage, +having eaten a biscuit and drunk some of Mrs. Tims's hot coffee, lay +back to sleep as the car rushed along the Portsmouth road. + + + + +III + + +In the library at The Towers three men were seated, their faces +lined and drawn as if some great misfortune had suddenly descended +upon them; yet their senses were alert. They were listening. + +"He ought to be here any minute now," said Mr. Llewellyn John, the +Prime Minister, taking out his watch for the hundredth time. + +Sir Lyster Grayne, First Lord of the Admiralty, shook his head. + +"He should do it in an hour," said Lord Beamdale, the Secretary of +War, "if he's got a man who knows the road." + +"Sage is sure----" began Sir Lyster; then he stopped abruptly, and +turned in the direction of the further window. + +A soft tapping as of a finger-nail upon a pane of glass was clearly +distinguishable. It ceased for a few seconds, recommenced, then +ceased again. + +Mr. Llewellyn John looked first at Sir Lyster and then on towards +where Lord Beamdale sat, heavy of frame and impassive of feature. + +Sir Lyster rose and walked quickly over to the window. As he +approached the tapping recommenced. Swinging back the curtain he +disappeared into the embrasure. + +The others heard the sound of the window being raised and then +closed again. A moment later Malcolm Sage appeared, followed by Sir +Lyster, who once more drew the curtain. + +At the sight of Malcolm Sage, Mr. Llewellyn John's features relaxed +from their drawn, tense expression. A look of relief flashed +momentarily into Lord Beamdale's fish-like eyes. + +"Thank God you've come, Sage!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, with a sigh +of relief as he grasped Malcolm Sage's hand as if it had been a +lifebelt and he a drowning man. "I think you have met Lord +Beamdale," he added. + +Malcolm Sage bowed to the War Minister, then with great deliberation +removed his overcoat, carefully folded it, and placed it upon a +chair, laying his cap on top. He then selected a chair at the table +that gave him a clear view of the faces of the three Ministers, and +sat down. + +"Why did you come to the window?" enquired Sir Lyster, as he resumed +his own seat. "Did you know this was the library?" + +"I saw a crack of light between the curtains," replied Malcolm Sage. +"It may be desirable that no one should know I have been here," he +added. + +"Something terrible has happened, Sage," broke in the Prime Minister, +his voice shaking with excitement. He had with difficulty contained +himself whilst Malcolm Sage was taking off his overcoat and +explaining his reason for entering by the window. "It's--it's----" +His voice broke. + +"Perhaps Sir Lyster will tell me, or Lord Beamdale," suggested +Malcolm Sage, looking from one to the other. + +Lord Beamdale shook his head. + +"Just a bare outline, Sir Lyster," said Malcolm Sage, spreading out +his fingers before him. + +Slowly, deliberately, and with perfect self-possession, Sir Lyster +explained what had happened. + +"The Prime Minister and Lord Beamdale came down with me on Thursday +night to spend the weekend," he said. "Incidentally we were to +discuss a very important matter connected with this country's er-- +foreign policy." The hesitation was only momentary. "Lord Beamdale +brought with him a document of an extremely private nature. This I +had sent to him earlier in the week for consideration and comment. + +"If that document were to get to a certain Embassy in London no one +can foretell the calamitous results. It might even result in another +war, if not now certainly later. It was, I should explain, of a +private and confidential nature, and consequently quite frankly +expressed." + +"And you must remember----" began Mr. Llewellyn John excitedly. + +"One moment, sir," said Malcolm Sage quietly, without looking up +from an absorbed contemplation of a bronze letter-weight fashioned +in the form of a sphinx. + +Mr. Llewellyn John sank back into his chair, and Sir Lyster resumed. + +"Just over an hour and a half ago, that is to say soon after eleven +o'clock, it was discovered that the document in question was missing, +and in its place had been substituted a number of sheets of blank +paper." + +"Unless it's found, Sage," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, jumping up from +his chair in his excitement, "the consequences are too awful to +contemplate." + +For a few seconds he strode up and down the room, then returning to +his chair, sank back into its comfortable depths. + +"Where was the document kept?" enquired Malcolm Sage, his long, +sensitive fingers stroking the back of the sphinx. + +"In the safe," replied Sir Lyster, indicating with a nod a small +safe let into the wall. + +"You are in the habit of using it for valuable documents?" queried +Malcolm Sage. + +"As a matter of fact very seldom. It is mostly empty," was the reply. + +"Why?" + +"I have a larger safe in my dressing-room, in which I keep my papers. +During the day I occasionally use this to save going up and down +stairs." + +"Where do you keep the key?" + +"When there is anything in the safe I always carry it about with +me." + +"And at other times?" + +"Sometimes in a drawer in my writing-table," said Sir Lyster; "but +generally I have it on me." + +"When was the document put into the safe?" + +"At a quarter to eight to-night, just as the second dressing-gong +was sounding." + +"And you yourself put it in, locked the door, and have retained the +key ever since?" Malcolm Sage had exhausted the interest of the +sphinx and was now drawing diagrams with his forefinger upon the +morocco surface of the table. + +Sir Lyster nodded. + +"I put the key in the pocket of my evening vest when I changed," he +said. "After the other guests had retired, the Prime Minister raised +a point that necessitated reference to the document itself. It was +then I discovered the substitution." + +"But for that circumstance the safe would not have been opened until +when?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +"Late to-night, when I should have transferred the packet to the +safe in my dressing-room." + +"Would you have examined the contents?" + +"No. It is my rule to cut adrift from official matters from +dinner-time on Saturday until after breakfast on Monday. It was only +in deference to the Prime Minister's particular wish that we referred +to the document to-night." + +"I take it that the rule you mention is known to your guests and +servants?" + +"Certainly." + +"There is no doubt that it was the document itself that you put in +the safe?" + +"None; the Prime Minister and Lord Beamdale saw me do it." + +"No doubt whatever," corroborated Mr. Llewellyn John, whilst Lord +Beamdale wagged his head like a mandarin. + +"Does anyone else know that it is missing?" asked Malcolm Sage after +a short pause. + +Sir Lyster shook his head. + +"Only we three; and, of course, the thief," he added. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. He had tired of the diagrams, and now sat +stroking the back of his head. + +"Has anyone left the house since the discovery; that is, as far as +you know?" he queried at length. + +"No one," said Sir Lyster. + +"The servants, of course, have access to this room?" + +"Yes; but only Walters, my butler, is likely to come here in the +evening, except, of course, my secretary." + +"Where does he dine?" + +"Miss Blair," corrected Sir Lyster, "always takes her meals in her +own sitting-room, where she works. It is situated at the back of the +house on the ground floor." + +Again Malcolm Sage was silent, this time for a longer period. + +"So far as you know, then," he said at length, addressing Sir Lyster, +"only three people in the house were acquainted with the existence +of the document; you, the Prime Minister, and Lord Beamdale." + +Sir Lyster inclined his head. + +"You are certain of that?" Malcolm Sage looked up swiftly and keenly. +"Your secretary and Lady Grayne, for instance, they knew nothing +about it?" + +"Nothing; of that I am absolutely certain," replied Sir Lyster +coldly. + +"And the nature of the document?" enquired Malcolm Sa'ge. + +Sir Lyster looked across at Mr. Llewellyn John, who turned +interrogatingly to Lord Beamdale. + +"I am afraid it is of too private a nature to----" he hesitated. + +"If you require me to trace something," said Malcolm Sage evenly, +"you must at least tell me what that something is." + +"It is a document which----" began Lord Beamdale, then he, too, +paused. + +"But, surely, Sage," broke in Mr. Llewellyn John, "is it not +necessary to know the actual contents?" + +"If you had lost something and would not tell me whether it was a +dog or a diamond, would you expect me to find it?" + +"But----" began Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"I'm afraid we are wasting time, gentlemen," said Malcolm Sage, +rising. "I would suggest Scotland Yard. The official police must +work under any handicap imposed. I regret that I am unable to do +so." + +He walked across to the chair where lay his cap and coat. + +"Now, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John tactfully, "you mustn't let us +down, you really mustn't." Then turning to Sir Lyster, he said, "I +can see his point. If he doesn't know the nature of the document, he +cannot form a theory as to who is likely to have taken it. Perhaps +under the circumstances, Grayne, we might take Sage into our +confidence; at least to such extent as he thinks necessary." + +Sir Lyster made no response, whilst Lord Beamdale, whose economy in +words had earned for him the sobriquet of "Lord Dumbeam," sat with +impassive face. + +"Perhaps I can help you," said Malcolm Sage, still standing by the +chair on which lay his cap and coat. "At the end of every great war +the Plans Departments of the Admiralty and the War Office are busy +preparing for the next war. I suggest that this document was the +Admiralty draft of a plan of operations to be put into force in the +event of war occurring between this country and an extremely +friendly power. It was submitted to the War Office for criticism and +comment as far as land-operations were concerned. Another power, +unfriendly to the friendly power, would find in this document a very +valuable red-herring to draw across the path of its own +perplexities." + +"Good heavens!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, starting upright in his +chair. "How on earth did you know?" + +"It seems fairly obvious," said Malcolm Sage, as he returned to his +chair and resumed his stroking of the sphinx's back. "Who else knew +of the existence of the document?" he enquired. + +"No one outside the Admiralty and the War----" Sir Lyster stopped +suddenly. + +From the corridor, apparently just outside the library door, came +the sound of a suppressed scream, followed by a bump against the +woodwork. + +Rising and moving swiftly across the room, Sir Lyster threw open the +door, revealing a gap of darkness into which a moment later slid two +figures, a pretty, fair-haired girl and a wizened little Japanese +with large round spectacles and an automatic smile. + +"I'm so sorry, Sir Lysier," faltered the girl, as she stepped +timidly into the room, "but I was frightened. Someone had switched +off the lights and I ran into----" She turned to the Japanese, who +stood deprecating and nervous on the threshold. + +"I lose my passage," he said, baring his teeth still further; "I go +to find cigarette-case of my master. He leave it in beelyard-room. I +go----" + +With a motion of his hand, Sir Lyster dismissed the man, who slipped +away as if relieved at getting off so lightly. + +"You are up late, Miss Blair," he said coolly, turning to the girl. + +"I'm so sorry," she said; "but Lady Grayne gave me some letters, and +there was so much copying for you that----" She paused, then added +nervously, "I didn't know it was so late." + +"You had better go to bed, now," said Sir Lyster. + +With a charming smile she passed out, Sir Lyster closing the door +behind her. As he turned into the room his eye caught sight of the +chair in which Malcolm Sage had been sitting. + +"Where is Mr. Sage?" He looked from Mr. Llewellyn John to Lord +Beamdale. + +As he spoke Malcolm Sage appeared from the embrasure of the window +through which he had entered, and where he had taken cover as Sir +Lyster rose to open the door. + +"You see, Sage is not supposed to be here," explained Mr. Llewellyn +John. + +"Your secretary has an expensive taste in perfume," remarked Malcolm +Sage casually, as he resumed his seat. "It often characterises an +intensely emotional nature," he added musingly. + +"Emotional nature!" repeated Sir Lyster. "As a matter of fact she is +extremely practical and self-possessed. You were saying----" he +concluded with the air of a man who dismisses a trifling subject in +favour of one of some importance. + +"Diplomatists should be trained physiognomists," murmured Malcolm +Sage. "A man's mouth rarely lies, a woman's never." + +Sir Lyster stared. + +"Now," continued Malcolm Sage, "I should like to know who is staying +here." + +Sir Lyster proceeded to give some details of the guests and servants. +The domestic staff comprised twenty-one, and none had been in Sir +Lyster's employ for less than three years. They were all excellent +servants, of irreproachable character, who had come to him with good +references. Seventeen of the twenty-one lived in the house. There +were also four lady's-maids and five men-servants attached to the +guests. Among the men-servants was Sir Jeffrey Trawler's Japanese +valet. + +There was something in Sir Lyster's voice as he mentioned this fact +that caused Malcolm Sage to look up at him sharply. + +"The man you have just seen," Sir Lyster explained. "He has been the +cause of some little difficulty in the servants'-hall. They object +to sitting down to meals with a Chinaman, as they call him. + +"He seems intelligent?" remarked Malcolm Sage casually. + +"On the contrary, he is an extremely stupid creature," was the reply. +"He is continually losing himself. Only yesterday morning I myself +found him wandering about the corridor leading to my own bedroom. +Walters has also mentioned the matter to me." + +Sir Lyster then passed on to the guests. They comprised Mrs. Selton, +an aunt of Sir Lyster; Sir Jeffrey and Lady Trawlor, old friends of +their hostess; Lady Whyndale and her two daughters. There were also +Mr. Gerald Nash, M. P., and Mr. and Mrs. Richard Winnington, old +friends of Sir Lyster and Lady Grayne. + +"Later, I may require a list of the guests," said Malcolm Sage, when +Sir Lyster had completed his account. "You said, I think, that the +key of the safe was sometimes left in an accessible place?" + +"Yes, in a drawer." + +"So that anyone having access to the room could easily have taken a +wax impression." + +"Sir Lyster flushed slightly. + +"There is no one----" he began. + +"There is always a potential someone," corrected Malcolm Sage, +raising his eyes suddenly and fixing them full upon Sir Lyster. + +"The question is, Sage," broke in Mr. Llewellyn John tactfully, +"what are we to do?" + +"I should first like to see the inside of the safe and the dummy +packet," said Malcolm Sage, rising. "No, I will open it myself if +you will give me the key," he added, as Sir Lyster rose and moved +over to the safe. + +Taking the key, Malcolm Sage kneeled before the safe door and, by +the light of an electric torch, surveyed the whole of the surface +with keen-sighted eyes. Then placing the key in the lock he turned +it, and swung back the door, revealing a long official envelope as +the sole contents. This he examined carefully without touching it, +his head thrust inside the safe. + +"Is this the same envelope as that in which the document was +enclosed?" he enquired, without looking round. + +The three men had risen and were grouped behind Malcolm Sage, +watching him with keen interest. + +"It's the same kind of envelope, but----" began + +Sir Lyster, when Lord Beamdale interrupted. + +"It's the envelope itself," he said. "I noticed that the right-hand +top corner was bent in rather a peculiar manner." + +Malcolm Sage rose and, taking out the envelope, carefully examined +the damaged corner, which was bent and slightly torn. + +"Yes, it's the same," cried Mr. Llewellyn John. "I remember tearing +it myself when putting in the document." + +"How many leaves of paper were there?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"Eight, I think," replied Sir Lyster. + +"Nine," corrected Lord Beamdale. "There was a leaf in front blank +but for the words, 'Plans Department.'" + +"Have you another document from the same Department?" enquired +Malcolm Sage of Sir Lyster. + +"Several." + +"I should like to see one." + +Sir Lyster left the room, and Malcolm Sage removed the contents of +the envelope. Carefully counting nine leaves of blank white foolscap, +he bent down over the paper, with his face almost touching it. + +When Sir Lyster re-entered with another document in his hand Malcolm +Sage took it from him and proceeded to subject it to an equally +close scrutiny, holding up to the light each sheet in succession. + +"I suppose, Sir Lyster, you don't by any chance use scent?" enquired +Malcolm Sage without looking up. + +"Mr. Sage!" Sir Lyster was on his dignity. + +"I see you don't," was Malcolm Sage's calm comment as he resumed his +examination of the dummy document. Replacing it in the envelope, he +returned it to the safe, closed the door, locked it, and put the key +in his pocket. + +"Well! what do you make of it?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John eagerly. + +"We shall have to take the Postmaster-general into our confidence." + +"Woldington!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John in astonishment. "Why." + +Sir Lyster looked surprised, whilst Lord Beamdale appeared almost +interested. + +"Because we shall probably require his help." + +"How?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"Well, it's rather dangerous to tamper with His Majesty's mails +without the connivance of St. Martins-le-Grand," was the dry retort. + +"But----" began Mr. Llewellyn John, when suddenly he stopped short. + +Malcolm Sage had walked over to where his overcoat lay, and was +deliberately getting into it. + +"You're not going, Mr. Sage?" Sir Lyster's granite-like control +seemed momentarily to forsake him. "What do you advise us to do?" + +"Get some sleep," was the quiet reply. + +"But aren't you going to search for----?" He paused as Malcolm Sage +turned and looked full at him. + +"A search would involve the very publicity you are anxious to +avoid," was the reply. + +"But----" began Mr. Llewellyn John, when Malcolm Sage interrupted +him. + +"The only effective search would be to surround the house with +police, and allow each occupant to pass through the cordon after +having been stripped. The house would then have to be gone through; +carpets and boards pulled up; mattresses ripped open; chairs----" + +"I agree with Mr. Sage," said Sir Lyster, looking across at the +Prime Minister coldly. + +"Had I been a magazine detective I should have known exactly where +to find the missing document," said Malcolm Sage. "As I am not"--he +turned to Sir Lyster--"it will be necessary for you to leave a note +for your butler telling him that you have dropped somewhere about +the house the key of this safe, and instructing him to have a +thorough search made for it. You might casually mention the loss at +breakfast, and refer to an important document inside the safe which +you must have on Monday morning. Perhaps the Prime Minister will +suggest telephoning to town for a man to come down to force the safe +should the key not be found." + +Malcolm Sage paused. The others were gazing at him with keen +interest. + +"Leave the note unfolded in a conspicuous place where anyone can see +it," he continued. + +"I'll put it on the hall-table," said Sir Lyster. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"It is desirable that you should all appear to be in the best of +spirits." There was a fluttering at the corners of Malcolm Sage's +mouth, as he lifted his eyes for a second to the almost lugubrious +countenance of Lord Beamdale. "Under no circumstances refer to the +robbery, even amongst yourselves. Try to forget it." + +"But how will that help?" enquired Mr. Llewellyn John, whose nature +rendered him singularly ill-adapted to a walking-on part. + +"I will ask you, sir," said Malcolm Sage, turning to him, "to give +me a letter to Mr. Woldington, asking him to do as I request. I will +give him the details." + +"But why is it necessary to tell him?" demanded Sir Lyster. + +"That I will explain to you to-morrow. That will be Monday," +explained Malcolm Sage, "earlier if possible. A few lines will do," +he added, turning to Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"I suppose we must," said the Prime Minister, looking from Sir +Lyster to Lord Beamdale. + +"I hope to call before lunch," said Malcolm Sage, "but as Mr. Le +Sage from the Foreign Office. You will refuse to discuss official +matters until Monday. I shall probably ask you to introduce me to +everyone you can. It may happen that I shall disappear suddenly." + +"But cannot you be a little less mysterious?" said Sir Lyster, with +a touch of asperity in his voice. + +"There is nothing mysterious," replied Malcolm Sage. "It seems quite +obvious. Everything depends upon how clever the thief is." He looked +up suddenly, his gaze passing from one to another of the bewildered +Ministers. + +"It's by no means obvious to me," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, +complainingly. + +"By the way, Sir Lyster, how many cars have you in the garage?" +enquired Malcolm Sage. "In case we want them," he added. + +"I have two, and there are"--he paused for a moment--"five others," +he added; "seven in all." + +"Any carriages, or dog-carts?" + +"No. We have no horses." + +"Bicycles?" + +"A few of the servants have them," replied Sir Lyster, a little +impatiently. + +"The bicycles are also kept in the garage, I take it?" + +"They are." This time there was no mistaking the note of irritation +in Sir Lyster's voice. + +"There may be several messengers from Whitehall to-morrow," said +Malcolm Sage, after a pause. "Please keep them waiting until they +show signs of impatience. It is important. Whatever happens here, it +would be better not to acquaint the police--_whatever happens_," he +added with emphasis. "And now, sir"--he turned to Mr. Llewellyn +John--"I should like that note to the Postmaster-general." + +Mr. Llewellyn John sat down reluctantly at a table and wrote a note. + +"But suppose the thief hands the document to an accomplice?" said +Sir Lyster presently, with something like emotion in his voice. + +"That's exactly what I am supposing," was Malcolm Sage's reply and, +taking the note that Mr. Llewellyn John held out to him, he placed +it in his breast pocket, buttoned up his overcoat, and walked across +to the window through which he had entered. With one hand upon the +curtain he turned. + +"If I call you may notice that I have acquired a slight foreign +accent," he said, and with that he slipped behind the curtain. A +moment later the sound was heard of the window being quietly opened +and then shut again. + +"Well, I'm damned!" cried Lord Beamdale, and for the moment Mr. +Llewelyln John and Sir Lyster forgot their surprise at Malcolm +Sage's actions in their astonishment at their colleague's remark. + + + + +CHAPTER VII THE OUTRAGE AT THE GARAGE + + + + +I + + +When Mr. Walters descended the broad staircase of The Towers on the +Sunday morning he found two things to disturb him--Sir Lyster's note +on the hall-table, and the Japanese valet "lost" in the conservatory. + +He read the one with attention, and rebuked the other with acrimony. +Having failed to find the missing key himself, he proceeded to the +housekeeper's room, and poured into the large and receptive ear of +Mrs. Eames the story of his woes. + +"And this a Sunday too," the housekeeper was just remarking, in a +fat, comfortable voice, when Richards, the chauffeur, burst +unceremoniously into the room. + +"Someone's taken the pencils from all the magnetos," he shouted +angrily, his face moist with heat and lubricant. + +"Is that your only excuse for bursting into a lady's room without +knocking?" enquired Mr. Walters, with an austere dignity he had +copied directly from Sir Lyster. "If you apply to me presently I +will lend you a pencil. In the meantime----" + +"But it's burglars. They've broken into the garage and taken the +pencils from every magneto, every blinkin' one," he added by way of +emphasis. + +At the mention of the word "burglars," Mr. Walters's professional +composure of feature momentarily forsook him, and his jaw dropped. +Recovering himself instantly, however, he hastened out of the room, +closely followed by Richards, leaving Mrs. Eames speechless, the +oval cameo locket heaving up and down upon her indignant black-silk +bosom. A man had sworn in her presence and had departed unrebuked. + +On reaching the garage Mr. Walters gazed vaguely about him. He was +entirely unversed in mechanics, and Richards persisted in pouring +forth technicalities that bewildered him. The chauffeur also cursed +loudly and with inspiration, until reminded that it was Sunday, when +he lowered his voice, at the same time increasing the density of his +language. + +Mr. Walters was frankly disappointed. There, was no outward sign of +burglars. At length he turned interrogatingly to Richards. + +"Just a-goin' to tune 'em up I was," explained Richards for the +twentieth time, "when I found the bloomin' engines had gone whonky, +then----" + +"Found the engines had gone what?" enquired Mr. Walters. + +"Whonky, dud, na-poo," explained Richards illuminatingly, whilst Mr. +Walters gazed at him icily. "Then in comes Davies," he continued, +nodding in the direction of a little round-faced man, with +"chauffeur" written on every inch of him "and 'e couldn't get 'is +blinkin' 'arp to 'urn neither. Then we starts a-lookin' round, when +lo and _be_'old! what do we find? Some streamin', saturated son of +sin an' whiskers 'as pinched the ruddy pencils out of the scarlet +magnetos." + +"The float's gone from my carburettor." + +The voice came from a long, lean man who appeared suddenly out of +the shadows at the far-end of the garage. + +Without a word Richards and Davies dashed each to a car. A minute +later two yells announced that the floats from their carburettors +also had disappeared. + +Later Richards told how that morning he had found the door of the +garage unfastened, although he was certain that he had locked it the +night before. + +This was sufficient for Mr. Walters. Fleeing from the bewildering +flood of technicalities and profanity of the three chauffeurs, he +made his way direct to Sir Lyster's room. Here he told his tale, and +was instructed instantly to telephone to the police. + +At the telephone further trouble awaited him. He could get no reply +from the exchange. He tried the private wire to the Admiralty; but +with no better result. + +He accordingly reported the matter to Sir Lyster, who was by then +with Lord Beamdale in the library. It was the Minister of War who +reminded his host of Malcolm Sage's strange request that whatever +happened the police were not to be communicated with. + +"But Sage could not have anticipated this--this monstrous outrage," +protested Sir Lyster, white with anger. He had already imperiously +put aside Lord Beamdale's suggestion that the whole affair might be +a joke. + +"Still, better do as he said," was the rejoinder and, as later Mr. +Llewellyn John concurred, Sir Lyster decided to await the arrival of +Malcolm Sage before taking further steps. + +One by one the guests drifted down to breakfast, went out to the +garage to see for themselves, and then returned to discuss the +affair over coffee and kidneys, tea and toast. + +It subsequently transpired that without exception the cars had been +entirely put out of commission. From each the pencil had been +removed from the magneto, and the float from the carburettor. From +the bicycles the pedals had been taken away, with the exception of +those belonging to Miss Blair and one of the housemaids, the only +two ladies' machines in the place. + +"A veritable Claude Duval," someone remarked; but this brought +little consolation to the owners of the wrecked cars. It was a fine +day, too, which added to their sense of hardship. + +As Sir Lyster left the breakfast-room he encountered Miss Blair +crossing the hall. She looked very fresh and pretty, with a demure, +almost childlike expression of feature. Her cheeks were flushed with +health and exercise. + +"Would you like me to cycle over to Odford to the police?" she +enquired. "My machine is quite all right. I have just been for a +spin." + +"No--er--not at present, thank you, Miss Blair," said Sir Lyster, a +little embarrassed at having to refuse to do the obvious thing. He +passed across the hall into the library, and Miss Blair, having +almost fallen over the Japanese valet, "lost" in a corridor leading +to the billiard-room, went out to condole with Richards and tell +him of a strange epidemic of mishaps that seemed to have descended +upon the neighbourhood. She herself had passed a motor-cycle, two +push-bicycles, and a Ford car, all disabled by the roadside. + +All that morning the Prime Minister, Sir Lyster, and Lord Beamdale +waited and wondered. Finding the strain of trying to look cheerful +too much for them, they shut themselves up in the library on the +plea of pressing official business; this, in spite of Sir Lyster's +well-known week-end rule. + +Hour after hour passed; yet not only did Malcolm Sage fail to put in +an appearance, but nothing was heard or seen of the promised bogus +official messengers. + +At luncheon more than one guest remarked upon the distrait and +absent-minded appearance of the three Ministers, and deduced from +the circumstance a grave political crisis. + +The afternoon dragged its leaden course. Throughout the house there +was an atmosphere of unrest. Among themselves the guests complained +because no action had been taken to track down the despoiler of +their cars. Walters had rendered the lives of the domestic staff +intolerable by insisting upon search for the missing key being made +in the most unlikely and inaccessible places, although in his own +mind he was convinced that it had been stolen by the errant Japanese. + +In the library sat the three Ministers, for the most part gazing +either at one another or at nothing in particular. They were waiting +for something to happen: none knew quite what. + +Dinner passed, a dreary meal; the ladies withdrew to the +drawing-room; but still the heavy atmosphere of foreboding remained. +It was nearly half-past nine when Walters entered and murmured +something in Sir Lyster's ear. + +An eager light sprang into Mr. Llewellyn John's eyes as the First +Lord rose, made his apologies, and left the room. It was only by the +exercise of great self-control that the Prime Minister refrained +from jumping up and bolting after him. + +Two minutes later Walters again entered the dining-room, with a +request that Mr. Llewellyn John and Lord Beamdale would join Sir +Lyster in the library. + +As Walters threw open the library-door, they found Malcolm Sage +seated at the table, his fingers spread out before him, whilst Sir +Lyster stood by the fireplace. + +"Ask Miss Blair if she will come here to take down an important +letter, Walters," said Sir Lyster. + +"Well?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, as soon as Walters had closed the +door behind him. "Have you got it?" + +"The document is now in a strong-room at the General Post Office," +said Malcolm Sage without looking up. "I thought it would be safer +there." + +"Thank God!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, collapsing into a chair. + +Malcolm Sage glanced across at him and half rose. + +"I'm all right, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John; "but coming after +this awful day of anxiety, the news was almost too much for me." + +"Who took it from the safe then?" enquired Sir Lyster. "I----" he +stopped short as the door opened, and Miss Blair entered, notebook +in hand, looking very dainty in a simple grey frock, relieved by a +bunch of clove carnations at the waist. Closing the door behind her, +she hesitated for a moment, a smile upon her moist, slightly-parted +lips. + +"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Blair," began Sir Lyster, "but Mr. +Sage----" he paused. + +"It was Miss Blair who removed the document from the safe," said +Malcolm Sage quietly, his eyes bent upon the finger-tips of his +right hand. + +"Miss Blair!" cried Sir Lyster, his hand dropping from the +mantelpiece to his side. + +For the fraction of a second the girl stood just inside the door; +then as the significance of Malcolm Sage's words dawned upon her, +the smile froze upon her lips, the blood ebbed from her face, +leaving it drawn and grey, and the notebook dropped from her fingers. +She staggered forward a few steps, then, clutching wildly at the +edge of the table, she swayed from side to side. With an obvious +effort she steadied herself, her gaze fixed upon her accuser. + +Slowly Malcolm Sage raised his eyes, cold, grey, inflexible, and +fixed them upon the terrified girl. + +The three Ministers appeared not yet to have realised the true +nature of the drama being enacted before them. + +"Miss Blair," said Malcolm Sage quietly, "what are your relations +with Paul Cressit?" + +Twice she essayed to speak, but no sound came. + +"I--I--er--know him," she faltered at length. +"I wondered," said Malcolm Sage slowly. + +"What does this mean, Mr. Sage?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"I will tell you," said Malcolm Sage, whilst Lord Beamdale placed a +chair into which Miss Blair collapsed. "Last night whilst you were +at dinner Miss Blair opened your safe with a duplicate key made from +a wax impression. She abstracted a valuable document, putting in its +place some sheets of blank paper." He paused. + +"Go on," almost gasped Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"She took the document to her room and hid it, a little uncertain as +to how she should get it to her accomplice. This morning she saw Sir +Lyster's note on the hall-table, and emboldened by the thought that +the theft had not been discovered, she cycled out to Odford and +posted the document to Paul Cressit at his chambers in Jermyn +Street." Again Malcolm Sage paused and drew from his pocket a note. + +"In the envelope was enclosed this note." He handed to Mr. Llewellyn +John a half sheet of paper on which was typed: + +"Paul, dearest, I have done it. I will ring you up to-morrow. I +shall ask for Tuesday off. You will keep your promise, dear, and +save me, won't you? If you don't I shall kill myself.--G." + +"Miss Blair," said Sir Lyster coldly, "what have you to say?" + +"N-nothing," she faltered, striving to moisten her grey lips. + +"If you will tell the truth," said Malcolm Sage, "you still have a +chance. If not"; he paused significantly. + +She gulped noisily, striving to regain her power of speech. + +"You--you promise?" She looked across at Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"Whatever Mr. Sage says we endorse," he replied gravely. + +"Both of us?" she repeated. + +"Both," said Malcolm Sage. + +"I--I love him," she moaned; then after a pause she added: "It was +to save the disgrace. He promised, he swore he would if I did it." + +"Swore he would do what?" said Malcolm Sage. + +"Marry me." + +Malcolm Sage raised his eyes to Sir Lyster, who was standing +implacable and merciless. + +The girl's head had fallen forward upon the table, and her shoulders +were heaving convulsively. + +Rising, Malcolm Sage walked across and placed his hand upon her arm. + +"It will be better for everybody if you will try and control +yourself," he said gently, "and above all tell us the truth." + +As if surprised at the gentleness of his tone, she slowly raised her +drawn face and looked at him in wonder. + +"Now listen to me," continued Malcolm Sage, drawing up a chair and +seating himself beside her, "and tell me if I am wrong. Whilst you +were acting as Sir Lyster's secretary you met Paul Cressit at the +Admiralty, and you were attracted to him." + +She nodded, with a quick indrawing of her breath. + +"He made violent love to you and you succumbed. Later you took him +into your confidence in regard to a certain matter and he promised +to marry you. He put you off from time to time by various excuses. +You were almost distracted at the thought of the disgrace. He +persuaded you to take a wax impression of Sir Lyster's key, on the +chance of it one day being useful." + +Again she nodded, whilst the three men listened as if hypnotised. + +"Finally he swore that he would marry you if you would steal this +document, and he showed you a special license. Am I right?" + +She nodded again, and then buried her head in her arms. + +"I suppose," said Malcolm Sage quietly, "he did not happen to +mention that he was already married?" + +"Married!" She started up, her eyes blazing. "It isn't true, oh! it +isn't true," she cried. + +"I'm afraid it is," said Malcolm Sage, with feeling in his voice. + +With a moan of despair her head fell forward upon the table, and +hard dry sobs shook her frail body. + +"Miss Blair," said Malcolm Sage presently, when she had somewhat +regained her self-control, "my advice to you is to write out a full +confession and bring it to me at my office to-morrow morning. It is +your only chance: and now you must go to your room." + +He rose, assisted her to her feet, and led her to the door, which he +closed behind her. + +"That I think concludes the enquiry," he said, as he walked over to +the fireplace and, leaning against the mantelpiece, he began to fill +his pipe. "Unless," he added, turning to Mr. Llewellyn John, "you +would like to see Cressit." + +The Prime Minister looked across at Sir Lyster and then at Lord +Beamdale. Both shook their heads. + +"What we should like, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John, "is a little +information as to what has been happening." + +With great deliberation Malcolm Sage proceeded to light his pipe. +When it was drawing to his entire satisfaction, he turned to Mr. +Llewellyn John and, with the suspicion of a fluttering at the +corners of his mouth, remarked: + +"I hope you have not been inconvenienced about the telephone." + +"We could get no reply from the exchange," said Sir Lyster, "and the +wire to the Admiralty is out of order." + +"I had to disconnect you after I left this morning," said Malcolm +Sage quietly. "My chauffeur swarmed up one of the standards. +Incidentally he wrecked an almost new pair of breeches." + +"They'll have to go in the Naval Estimates," cried Mr. Llewellyn +John, who was feeling almost jovial now the tension of the past +twenty-four hours had been removed. + +"From the first," proceeded Malcolm Sage, "it was obvious that this +theft was planned either at the Admiralty or at the War Office." + +"That is absurd!" cried Sir Lyster with heat, whilst Lord Beamdale +leaned forward, his usually apathetic expression of indifference +giving place to one of keen interest. + +"I accepted the assurance that only three people in this house knew +of the existence of the document," Malcolm Sage proceeded, as if +there had been no interruption. "There was no object in any of those +three persons stealing that to which they had ready access." + +Lord Beamdale nodded his agreement with the reasoning. + +"Therefore," continued Malcolm Sage, "the theft must have been +planned by someone who knew about the document before it came here, +and furthermore knew that it was to be here at a certain time. To +confirm this hypothesis we have the remarkable circumstances that +the blank paper substituted for the original document was, in +quality and the number of sheets, identical with that of the +document itself." + +"Good," ejaculated Lord Beamdale, himself a keen mathematician. + +Mr. Llewellyn John and Sir Lyster exchanged glances. + +"It was almost, but not quite, obvious that the exchange had been +effected by a woman." + +"How obvious?" enquired Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"'Few women pass unperfumed to the grave,'" quoted Malcolm Sage. "I +think it was Craddock who said that," he added, and Mr. Llewellyn +John made a mental note of the phrase. + +"The handle of the safe door was corrugated, and the lacquer had +worn off, leaving it rough to the touch. When I kneeled down before +the safe it was not to examine the metal work, but to see if the +thief had left a scent." + +"A scent?" repeated Sir Lyster. + +"On the handle of the door there was a distinct trace of perfume, +very slight, but I have a keen sense of smell, although a great +smoker. On the document itself there was also evidence of a rather +expensive perfume, not unlike that used by Miss Blair. Furthermore, +it was bent in a rather peculiar manner, which might have resulted +from its being carried in the belt of a woman's frock. It might, of +course, have been mere chance," he added; "but the envelope did not +show a corresponding bend." + +Again Lord Beamdale nodded appreciatively. + +"Although several people have had an opportunity of taking a wax +impression of the key, the most likely were Miss Blair and Walters-- +that, however, was a side issue." + +"How?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"Because primarily we were concerned with making the criminal +himself or herself divulge the secret." + +"That's why you would not allow the loss to be made known," broke in +Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"The thief," continued Malcolm Sage, with a slight inclination of +his head, "would in all probability seize the first safe opportunity +of getting rid of the plunder." + +"But did you not suspect the Japanese?" broke in Lord Beamdale. + +"For the moment I ruled him out," said Malcolm Sage, "as I could not +see how it was possible for him to know about the existence of the +document in question, and furthermore, as he had been in the house +less than two days, there was no time for him to get a duplicate +key." + +"What did you do then?" queried Sir Lyster. + +"I motored back to town, broke in upon the Postmaster-general's +first sleep, set on foot enquiries at the Admiralty and War Office, +in the meantime arranging for The Towers to be carefully watched." +Malcolm Sage paused for a moment; then as none of his hearers spoke +he continued: + +"I had a number of people in the neighbourhood--motorists, cyclists, +and pedestrians. No one could have left the house and grounds +without being seen. + +"Miss Blair found the morning irresistible, and took an early spin +on her bicycle to Odford, where she posted a packet in a pillar-box +situated in a street that was apparently quite empty." + +"And you secured it?" enquired Mr. Lewellyn John, leaning forward +eagerly. + +"I'm afraid I quite spoilt the local postmaster's Sunday by +requesting that a pillar-box should be specially cleared, and +producing an authority from the Postmaster-general. After he had +telegraphed to head-quarters and received a reply confirming the +letter, he reluctantly acquiesced." + +"And it was addressed to this man Cressit?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"Yes. He is a temporary staff-clerk in the Plans Department. +Incidentally he is something of a Don Juan, and the cost of living +has increased considerably, as you know, sir," he added, turning to +the Prime Minister. + +Mr. Llewellyn John smiled wanly. It was his political "cross," this +cost-of-living problem. + +"And what shall we do with him?" enquired Sir Lyster. "The +scoundrel," he added. + +"I have almost done with him as a matter of fact," said Malcolm Sage. + +"Done with him?" exclaimed Lord Beamdale. + +"I sent him a telegram in Miss Blair's name to be at Odford Station +to-night at seven: then I kidnapped him." + +"Good heavens, Sage I What do you mean?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, +with visions of the Habeas Corpus Act and possible questions in the +House, which he hated. + +"We managed to get him to enter my car, and then we went through +him--that is a phrase from the crook-world. We found upon him the +marriage certificate, and later I induced him to confess. I am now +going to take him back to my office, secure his finger-prints and +physical measurements, which will be of interest at Scotland Yard." + +"But we are not going to prosecute," said Mr. Llewellyn John +anxiously. + +"Mr. Paul Cressit will have forty-eight hours in which to leave the +country," said Malcolm Sage evenly. "He will not return, because +Scotland Yard will see that he does not do so. There will probably +be an application to you, sir," Malcolm Sage continued, turning to +Mr. Llewellyn John, "to confirm what I tell them." + +"Excellent!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John. "I congratulate you, Sage. +You have done wonders." + +"But I failed to understand your saying that you would be here this +morning," said Sir Lyster, "and under an assumed name with----" + +"A foreign accent," suggested Malcolm Sage. "The thief might have +been an old hand at the game, and too clever to fall into a rather +obvious trap. In that case I might have been forced, as a foreigner, +to salute the hands of all the ladies in the house. I learnt to +click my heels years ago in Germany." Again there was a suspicious +movement at the corners of Malcolm Sage's mouth. + +"But----" began Sir Lyster. + +"To identify the scent?" broke in Mr. Llewellyn John. + +Malcolm Sage inclined his read slightly. + +"The Foreign Office messengers?" queried Lord Beamdale. + +"I decided that pedestrians and cyclists would do as well. I merely +wanted the house watched. There were quite a number of casualties to +cars and bicycles in the neighbourhood," he added dryly. + +"But why did you cut us off from the telephone?" enquired Mr. +Llewellyn John. + +"The accomplice might have got through, and I could afford to take +no risks." + +"Well, you have done splendidly, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John +heartily, "and we are all greatly obliged. By the way, there's +another little problem awaiting you. Someone broke into the garage +last night and wrecked all the cars and bicycles----" + +"Except two," said Malcolm Sage. + +"Then you've heard." Mr. Llewellyn John looked at him in surprise. + +"The man who did it is in my car outside with Cressit." + +"You've got him as well?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John excitedly. "Sage, +you're a miracle of sagacity," he added, again mentally noting the +phrase. + +"The missing pencils, floats, and pedals you will find on the +left-hand side of the drive about half way down, under a laurel +bush," said Malcolm Sage quietly. + +"And who is this fellow who did this scandalous thing?" demanded Sir +Lyster. + +"My chauffeur." + +"Your chauffeur!" + +"I could not risk the thief having access to a fast car." + +"But what if this fellow Cressit refuses to go?" enquired Lord +Beamdale. + +"He won't," said Malcolm Sage grimly. "D.O.R.A. is still in +operation. I had to remind him of the fact." + +Malcolm Sage picked up his hat and coat and walked towards the door. + +"I must be going," he said. "I have still several things to attend +to. You won't forget about the plunder from the garage?" he added. + +"But what am I to do about Miss Blair?" asked Sir Lyster. + +"That's a question I think you will find answered in the Gospel of +St. Luke--the seventh chapter and I think the forty-seventh verse"; +and with that he was gone, leaving three Ministers gazing at one +another in dumb astonishment. + +Had a cynic been peeping into the library of The Towers a few +minutes later, he would have discovered three Cabinet Ministers +bending over a New Testament, which Sir Lyster had fetched from his +wife's boudoir, and the words they read were: "Wherefore I say unto +thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much." + +"Strange," murmured Lord Beamdale, "very strange," and the others +knew that he was referring not to the text, or to the unhappy girl-- +but to Malcolm Sage. + +"We are always surprised when we find Saul among the prophets," +remarked Mr. Llewellyn John, and he made a mental note of the phrase. +It might do for the "Wee Frees." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII GLADYS NORMAN DINES WITH THOMPSON + + + + +I + + +"Tommy," remarked Miss Gladys Norman one day as Thompson entered her +room through the glass-panelled door, "have you ever thought what I +shall do fifty years hence?" + +"Darn my socks," replied the practical Thompson. + +"I mean," she proceeded with withering deliberation, "what will +happen when I can't do the hundred in ten seconds?" + +Thompson looked at her with a puzzled expression. + +"My cousin Will says that if you can't do the hundred yards in ten +seconds you haven't an earthly," she explained. "It's been worrying +me. What am I to do when I'm old and rheumaticky and the Chief does +three on the buzzer? He's bound to notice it and he'll _look_." + +Malcolm Sage's "look" was a slight widening of the eyes as he gazed +at a delinquent. It was his method of conveying rebuke. That "look" +would cause Thompson to swear earnestly under his breath for the +rest of the day, whilst on Gladys Norman it had several distinct +effects, the biting of her lower lips, the snubbing of Thompson, the +merciless banging of her typewriter, and a self-administered rebuke +of "Gladys Norman, you're a silly little ass," being the most +noticeable. + +For a moment Thompson thought deeply, then with sudden inspiration +he said, "Why not move your table nearer his door?" + +"What a brain!" she cried, regarding him with mock admiration. "You +must have been waving it with Hindes' curlers. Yes," she added, "you +may take me out to dinner to-night, Tommy." + +Thompson was in the act of waving his hat wildly over his head when +Malcolm Sage came out of his room. For the fraction of a second he +paused and regarded his subordinates. + +"It's not another war, I hope," he remarked, and, without waiting +for a reply, he turned, re-entered his room and closed the door. + +Gladys Norman collapsed over her typewriter, where with heaving +shoulders she strove to mute her mirth with a ridiculous dab of pink +cambric. + +Thompson looked crestfallen. He had turned just in time to see +Malcolm Sage re-enter his room. + +Three sharp bursts on the buzzer brought Gladys Norman to her feet. +There was a flurry of skirt, the flash of a pair of shapely ankles, +and she disappeared into Malcolm Sage's room. + + + + +II + + +"It's a funny old world," remarked Gladys Norman that evening, as +she and Thompson sat at a sheltered table in a little Soho +restaurant. + +"It's a jolly nice old world," remarked Thompson, looking up from +his plate, "and this chicken is it." + +"Chicken first; Gladys Norman also ran," she remarked scathingly. + +Thompson grinned and returned to his plate. + +"Why do you like the Chief, Tommy?" she demanded. + +Thompson paused in his eating, resting his hands, still holding +knife and fork, upon the edge of the table. The suddenness of the +question had startled him. + +"If you must sit like that, at least close your mouth," she said +severely. + +Thompson replaced his knife and fork upon the plate. + +"Well, why _do_ you?" she queried. + +"Why do I what?" he asked. + +She made a movement of impatience. "Like the Chief, of course." Then +as he did not reply she continued: "Why does Tims like him, and the +Innocent, and Sir James, and Sir John Dene, and the whole blessed +lot of us? Why is it, Tommy, why?" + +Thompson merely gaped, as if she had propounded some unanswerable +riddle. + +"Why is it?" she repeated. Then as he still remained silent she +added, "There's no hurry, Tommy dear; just go on listening with your +mouth. I quite realise the compliment." + +"I'm blessed if I know," he burst out at last. "I suppose it's +because he's 'M.S.,'" and he returned to his plate. + +"Yes, but _why_ is it?" she persisted, as she continued mechanically +to crumble her bread. "That's what _I_ want to know; why is it?" + +Thompson looked at her a little anxiously. By nature he was inclined +to take things for granted, things outside his profession that is. + +"It's a funny old world, Tommikins," she repeated at length, picking +up her knife and fork, "funnier for some than for others." + +Thompson looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. There were +times when he found Gladys Norman difficult to understand. + +"For a girl, I mean," she added, as if that explained it. + +Thompson still stared. The remark did not strike him as illuminating. + +"It may be," she continued meditatively, "that I like doing things +for the Chief because he was my haven of refuge from a wicked world; +but that doesn't explain why you and Tims----" + +"Your haven of refuge!" repeated Thompson, making a gulp of a +mouthful, and once more laying down his knife and fork, as he looked +across at her curiously. + +"Before I went to the Ministry I had one or two rather beastly +experiences." She paused as if mentally reviewing some unpleasant +incident. + +"Tell me, Gladys." Thompson was now all attention. + +"Well, I once went to see a man in Shaftesbury Avenue who had +advertised for a secretary. He was a funny old bean," she added +reminiscently, "all eyes and no waist, and more curious as to +whether I lived alone, or with my people, than about my speeds. So I +told him my brother was a prize-fighter, and----" + +"But you haven't got a brother," broke in Thompson. + +"I told him that for the good of his soul, Tommy, and of the girls +who came after me," she added a little grimly. + +"It was funny," she continued after a pause. "He didn't seem a bit +eager to engage me after that. Said my speeds (which I hadn't told +him) were not good enough; but to show there was no ill-feeling he +tried to kiss me at parting. So I boxed his ears, slung his own +inkpot at him and came away. Oh! it's a great game, Tommy, played +slow," she added as an after-thought, and she hummed a snatch of a +popular fox-trot. + +"The swine!" + +Thompson had just realised the significance of what he had heard. +There was an ugly look in his eyes. + +"I then got a job at the Ministry of Economy and later at the +Ministry of Supply, and the Chief lifted me out by my bobbed hair +and put me into Department Z. That's why I call him my haven of +refuge. See, dearest?" + +"What's the name of the fellow in Shaftesbury Avenue?" demanded +Thompson, his thoughts centring round the incident she had just +narrated. + +"Naughty Tommy," she cried, making a face at them, "Mustn't get angry and +vicious. Besides," she added, "the Chief did for him." + +"You told him?" cried Thompson incredulously, his interest still +keener than his appetite. + +"I did," she replied airily, "and he dropped a hint at Scotland Yard. +I believe the gallant gentleman in Shaftesbury Avenue has something +more than a smack and an inky face to remember little Gladys by. He +doesn't advertise for secretaries now." + +Thompson gazed at her, admiration in his eyes. + +"But that doesn't explain why I always want to please the Chief, +does it?" she demanded. "In romance, the knight kills the villain +for making love to the heroine, and then gets down to the same dirty +work himself. Now the Chief ought to have been bursting with +volcanic fires of passion for me. He should have crushed me to his +breast with merciless force, I beating against his chest-protector +with my clenched fists. Finally I should have lain passive and +unresisting in his arms, whilst he covered my eyes, ears, nose and +'transformation' with fevered, passionate kisses; not pecks like +yours, Tommy; but the real thing with a punch in them." + +"What on earth----" began Thompson, when she continued. + +"There should have been a fearful tempest on the other side of his +ribs. I should----" + +"Don't talk rot, Gladys," broke in Thompson. + +"I'm not talking rot," she protested. "I read it all in a novel that +sells by the million." Then after a moment's pause she continued: + +"He saved me from the dragon; yet he doesn't even give me a box of +chocolates, and everybody in Whitehall knows that chocolates and +kisses won the war. When I fainted for him and he carried me into +his room, he didn't kiss me even then." + +"You wouldn't have known it if he had," was Thompson's comment. + +"Oh! wouldn't I?" she retorted. "That's all you know about girls, Mr. +Funny Thompson." + +He stared across at her, blinking his eyes in bewilderment. + +"He doesn't take me out to dinner as other chiefs do," she +continued; "yet I hop about like a linnet when he buzzes for me. Why +is it?" + +She gazed across at Thompson challengingly. + +A look of anxiety began to manifest itself upon his good-natured +features. Psycho-analysis was not his strong point. In a vague way +he began to suspect that Gladys Norman's devotion to Malcolm Sage +was not strictly in accordance with Trade Union principles. + +"There, get on with your chicken, you poor dear," she laughed, and +Thompson, picking up his knife and fork, proceeded to eat +mechanically. From time to time he glanced covertly across at Gladys. + +"As to the Chief's looks," she continued, "his face is keen and taut, +and he's a strong, silent man; yet can you see his eyes hungry and +tempestuous, Tommy? I can't. Why is it," she demanded, "that when a +woman writes a novel she always stunts the strong, silent man?" + +Thompson shook his head, with the air of a man who has given up +guessing. + +"Imagine getting married to a strong, silent man," she continued, +"with only his strength and his silence, and perhaps a cheap +gramophone, to keep you amused in the evenings." She shuddered. +"No," she said with decision, "give me a regular old rattle-box +without a chin, like you, Tommy." + +Mechanically Thompson's hand sought his chin, and Gladys laughed. + +"Anyway, I'm not going to marry, in spite of the tube +furniture-posters. Uncle Jake says it's all nonsense to talk about +marriages being made in heaven; they're made in the Tottenham Court +Road." + +Thompson had, however, returned to his plate. In her present mood, +Gladys Norman was beyond him. Realising the state of his mind, she +continued: + +"He's got a head like a pierrot's cap and it's as bald as a +fivepenny egg, when it ought to be beautifully rounded and covered +with crisp curly hair. He wears glasses in front of eyes like bits +of slate, when they ought to be full of slumbrous passion. His jaw +is all right, only he doesn't use it enough; in books the strong, +silent man is a regular old chin-wag, and yet I fall over myself to +answer his buzzer. Why it is, I repeat?" She looked across at him +mischievously, enjoying the state of depression to which she had +reduced him. + +Thompson merely shook his head. + +"For all that," she continued, picking up her own knife and fork, +which in the excitement of describing Malcolm Sage she had laid down, +"for all that he would make a wonderful lover--once you could get +him started," and she laughed gleefully as if at some hidden joke. + +Thompson gazed at her over a fork piled with food, which her remark +had arrested half-way to his mouth. + +"He's chivalrous," she continued. "Look at the way he always tries +to help up the very people he has downed. It's just a game with +him----" + +"No, it's not," burst out Thompson, through a mouthful of chicken +and sauté potato. + +She gave him a look of disapproval that caused him to swallow +rapidly. + +"The Chief doesn't look on it as a game," he persisted. "He's out to +stop crime and----" + +"But that's not the point," she interrupted. "What I want to know is +why do I bounce off my chair like an india-rubber ball when he +buzzes?" she demanded relentlessly. "Why do I want to please him? +Why do I want to kick myself when I make mistakes? Why--Oh! Tommy," +she broke off, "if you only had a brain as well as a stomach," and +she looked across at him reproachfully. + +"Perhaps it's because he never complains," suggested Thompson, as he +placed his knife and fork at the "all clear" angle, and leaned back +in his chair with a sigh of contentment. + +"You don't complain, Tommy," she retorted; "but you could buzz +yourself to blazes without getting me even to look up." + +For fully a minute there was silence; Gladys Norman continued to +gaze down at the débris to which she had reduced her roll. + +"No," she continued presently, "there is something else. I've +noticed the others; they're just the same." She paused, then +suddenly looking across at him she enquired, "What is loyalty, +Tommy?" + +"Standing up and taking off your hat when they play 'God Save the +King,'" he replied glibly. + +She laughed, and deftly flicked a bread pill she had just +manufactured, catching Thompson beneath the left eye and causing him +to blink violently. + +"You're a funny old thing," she laughed. "You know quite well what I +mean, only you're too stupid to realise it. Look at the Innocent-- +for him the Chief is the only man in all the world. Then there's +Tims. He'd get up in the middle of the night and drive the Chief to +blazes, and hang the petrol. Then there's you and me." + +Thompson drew a cigarette-case from his pocket. + +"I _think_ I know why it is," she said, nodding her pretty head +wisely. She paused, and as Thompson made no comment she continued: +"It's because he's human, warm flesh and blood." + +"But when I'm warm flesh and blood," objected Thompson, with +corrugated brow, "you tell me not to be silly." + +"Your idea of warmth, my dear man, was learnt on the upper reaches +of the Thames after dark," was the scathing retort. + +"Yes, but----" he began, when she interrupted him. + +"Look what he did for Miss Blair. Had her at the office and then-- +then--looked after her." + +"And afterwards got her a job," remarked Thompson. "But that's just +like the Chief," he added. + +"Where did you meet him first, Tommy?" she enquired, as she leaned +forward slightly to light her cigarette at the match he held out to +her. + +"In a bath," was the reply, as Thompson proceeded to light his own +cigarette. + +"You're not a bit funny," she retorted. + +"But it was," he persisted. + +"Was what?" + +"In a bath. He hadn't had one before and----" + +"Not had a bath!" she cried. "If you try to pull my leg like that, +Tommy, you'll ladder my stockings." + +"But I'm not," protested Thompson. "I met the Chief in a Turkish +bath, and he went into the hottest room and crumpled, so I looked +after him, and that's how I got to know him." + +"Of course, you couldn't have happened to mention that it was a +_Turkish_ bath, Tommy, could you?" she said. "That wouldn't be you +at all. But what makes him do things like he did for Miss Blair?" + +"I suppose because he's the Chief," was Thompson's reply. + +Gladys Norman sighed elaborately. "There are moments, James +Thompson," she said, "when your conversation is almost inspiring," +and she relapsed into silence. + +For the last half-hour Thompson had been conscious of a feeling of +uneasiness. It had first manifested itself when he was engaged upon +a lightly grilled cutlet; had developed as he tackled the lower +joint of a leg of chicken; and become an alarming certainty when he +was half-way through a plate of apple tart and custard. Gladys +Norman's interest in Malcolm Sage had become more than a secretarial +one. + +Mentally he debated the appalling prospect. By the time coffee was +finished he had reached an acute stage of mental misery. Suddenly +life had become, not only tinged, but absolutely impregnated with +wretchedness. + +It was not until they had left the restaurant and were walking along +Shaftesbury Avenue that he summoned up courage to speak. + +"Gladys," he said miserably, "you're not----" then he paused, not +daring to put into words his thought. + +"He's so magnetic, so compelling," she murmured dreamily. "He knows +so much. Any girl might----" + +She did not finish the sentence; but stole a glance at Thompson's +tragic face. + +They walked in silence as far as Piccadilly Circus, then in the +glare of light she saw the misery of his expression. + +"You silly old thing," she laughed, as she slipped her arm through +his. "You funny old thing," and she laughed again. + +That laugh was a Boddy lifebelt to the sinking heart of Thompson. + + + + +CHAPTER IX THE HOLDING UP OF LADY GLANEDALE + + + + +I + + +"More trouble, Tommy," remarked Gladys Norman one morning as James +Thompson entered her room. He looked across at her quickly, a keen +flash of interest in his somnolent brown eyes. + +"Somebody's pinched Lady Glanedale's jewels. Just had a telephone +message. What a happy place the world would be without drink and +crime----" + +"And women," added Thompson, alert of eye, and prepared to dodge +anything that was coming. + +"Tommy, you're a beast. Get thee hence!" and, bending over her +typewriter, she became absorbed in rattling words on to paper. + +Thompson had just reached the third line of "I'm Sorry I Made You +Cry," when his quick eye detected Malcolm Sage as he entered the +outer office. + +With a brief "Good morning," Malcolm Sage passed into his room, and +a minute later Gladys Norman was reading from her note-book the +message that had come over the telephone to the effect that early +that morning a burglar had entered Lady Glanedale's bedroom at the +Home Park, Hyston, the country house of Sir Roger Glanedale, and, +under threat from a pistol, had demanded her jewel-case, which she +had accordingly handed to him. + +As the jewels were insured with the Twentieth Century Insurance +Corporation, Ltd., Malcolm Sage had been immediately communicated +with, that he might take up the enquiry with a view to tracing the +missing property. + +One of Malcolm Sage's first cases had been undertaken for this +company in connection with a burglary. He had been successful in +restoring the whole of the missing property. In consequence he +had been personally thanked by the Chairman at a fully attended +Board Meeting, and at the same time presented with a gold-mounted +walking-stick, which, as he remarked to Sir John Dene, no one but +a drum-major in full dress would dare to carry. + +Having listened carefully as she read her notes, Malcolm Sage +dismissed Gladys Norman with a nod, and for some minutes sat at his +table drawing the inevitable diagrams upon his blotting pad. +Presently he rose, and walked over to a row of shelves filled with +red-backed volumes, lettered on the back "Records," with a number +and a date. + +Every crime or curious occurrence that came under Malcolm Sage's +notice was duly chronicled in the pages of these volumes, which +contained miles of press-cuttings. They were rendered additionally +valuable by an elaborate system of cross-reference indexing. + +After referring to an index-volume, Malcolm Sage selected one of the +folios, and returned with it to his table. Rapidly turning over the +pages he came to a newspaper-cutting, which was dated some five +weeks previously. This he read and pondered over for some time. It +ran: + +DARING BURGLARY +Country Mansion Entered +Burglar's Sang-froid + +In the early hours of yesterday morning a daring burglary was +committed at the Dower House, near Hyston, the residence of Mr. +Gerald Comminge, who was away from home at the time, by which the +burglar was able to make a rich haul of jewels. + +In the early hours of the morning Mrs. Comminge was awakened by the +presence of a man in her room. As she sat up in bed, the man turned +an electric torch upon her and, pointing a revolver in her direction, +warned her that if she cried out he would shoot. He then demanded to +know where she kept her jewels, and Mrs. Comminge, too terrified to +do anything else, indicated a drawer in which lay her jewel-case. + +Taking the jewel-case and putting it under his arm, the man +threatened that if she moved or called out within a quarter of an +hour he would return and shoot her. He then got out of the window on +to a small balcony and disappeared. + +It seems that he gained admittance by clambering up some ivy and +thus on to the narrow balcony that runs the length of one side of +the house. + +Immediately on the man's disappearance, Mrs. Comminge fainted. On +coming to she gave the alarm, and the police were immediately +telephoned for. Although the man's footprints are easily discernible +upon the mould and the soft turf, the culprit seems to have left no +other clue. + +The description that Mrs. Comminge is able to give of her assailant +is rather lacking in detail, owing to the shock she experienced at +his sudden appearance. It would appear that the man is of medium +height and slight of build. He wore a cap and a black handkerchief +tied across his face just beneath his eyes, which entirely masked +his features. With this very inadequate description of the ruffian +the police have perforce to set to work upon the very difficult task +of tracing him. + +For some time Malcolm Sage pondered over the cutting, then rising he +replaced the volume and rang for Thompson. + +An hour later Tims was carrying him along in the direction of Sir +Roger Glanedale's house at a good thirty-five miles an hour. + +The Home Park was an Elizabethan mansion that had been acquired by +Sir Roger Glanedale out of enormous profits made upon the sale of +margarine. As Tims brought the car up before the front entrance with +an impressive sweep, the hall-door was thrown open by the butler, +who habitually strove by an excessive dignity of demeanour to remove +from his mental palate the humiliating flavour of margarine. + +Malcolm Sage's card considerably mitigated the impression made upon +Mr. Hibbs's mind by the swing with which Tims had brought the car up +to the door. + +Malcolm Sage was shown into the morning-room and told that her +ladyship would see him in a few minutes. He was busy in the +contemplation of the garden when the door opened and Lady Glanedale +entered. + +He bowed and then, as Lady Glanedale seated herself at a small table, +he took the nearest chair. + +She was a little woman, some eight inches too short for the air she +assumed, fair, good-looking; but with a hard, set mouth. No one had +ever permitted her to forget that she had married margarine. + +"You have called about the burglary?" she enquired, in a tone she +might have adopted to a plumber who had come to see to a leak in the +bath. + +Malcolm Sage bowed. + +"Perhaps you will give me the details," he said. "Kindly be as brief +as possible," his "incipient Bolshevism" manifesting itself in his +manner. + +Lady Glanedale elevated her eyebrows; but, as Malcolm Sage's eyes +were not upon her, she proceeded to tell her story. + +"About one o'clock this morning I was awakened to find a man in my +bedroom," she began. "He was standing between the bedstead and the +farther window, his face masked. He had a pistol in one hand, which +he pointed towards me, and an electric torch in the other. I sat up +in bed and stared at him. 'If you call out I shall kill you,' he +said. I asked him what he wanted. He replied that if I gave him my +jewel-case and did not call for help, he would not do me any harm. + +"Realising that I was helpless, I got out of bed, put on a wrapper, +opened a small safe I have set in the wall, and handed him one of +the two jewel-cases I possess. + +"He then made me promise that I would not ring or call out for a +quarter of an hour, and he disappeared out of the window. + +"At the end of a quarter of an hour I summoned help, and my stepson, +the butler, and several other servants came to my room. We +telephoned for the police, and after breakfast we telephoned to the +insurance company." + +For fully a minute there was silence. Malcolm Sage decided that +Lady Glanedale certainly possessed the faculty of telling a story +with all the events in their proper sequence. He found himself with +very few questions to put to her. + +"Can you describe the man?" he asked as he mechanically turned over +the leaves of a book on a table beside him. + +"Not very well," she replied. "I saw little more than a silhouette +against the window. He was of medium height, slight of build and I +should say young." + +"That seems to agree with the description of the man who robbed Mrs. +Comminge," he said as if to himself. + +"That is what the inspector said," remarked Lady Glanedale. + +"His voice?" + +"Was rather husky, as if he were trying to disguise it." + +"Was it the voice of a man of refinement or otherwise?" + +"I should describe it as middle-class," was the snobbish response. + +"The mask?" + +"It looked like a silk handkerchief tied across his nose. It was +dark in tone; but I could get only a dim impression." + +Malcolm Sage inclined his head comprehendingly. + +"You know Mrs. Comminge?" + +"Intimately." + +"You mentioned two jewel-cases," he said. + +"The one stolen contained those I mostly wear," replied Lady +Glanedale; "in the other I keep some very valuable family jewels." + +"What was the value of those stolen?" + +"About 8,000 pounds," she replied, "possibly more. I should explain, +perhaps, that Sir Roger was staying in town last night, and so far I +have not been able to get him on the telephone. He was to have +stayed at the Ritzton; but apparently he found them full and went +elsewhere." + +"You have no suspicion as to who it was that entered your room?" + +"None whatever," said Lady Glanedale. + +"The police have already been?" he enquired, as he examined with +great intentness a rose he had taken from a bowl beside him. + +"Yes, they came shortly after we telephoned. They gave instructions +that nothing was to be touched in the room, and no one was to go +near the ground beneath the windows." + +Malcolm Sage nodded approvingly, and returned the rose to the bowl. + +"And now," he said, "I think I should like to see the room. By the +way, I take it that you keep your safe locked?" + +"Always," said Lady Glanedale. + +"Where do you keep the key?" + +"In the bottom right-hand drawer of my dressing-table, under a pile +of handkerchiefs." + +"As soon as you can I should like to see a list of the jewels," said +Malcolm Sage, as he followed Lady Glanedale towards the door. + +"My maid is copying it out now," she replied, and led the way up the +staircase, along a heavily-carpeted corridor, at the end of which +she threw open a door giving access to a bedroom. + +Malcolm Sage entered and gave a swift look about him, seeming to +note and catalogue every detail. It was a large room, with two +windows looking out on to a lawn. On the right was a door, which, +Lady Glanedale explained, led to Sir Roger's dressing-room. + +He walked over to the window near the dressing-room and looked out. + +"That is the window he must have entered by; he went out that way," +explained Lady Glanedale. + +"You spoke of a stepson," said Malcolm Sage. "He is a man, I +presume?" + +"He is twenty-three." Lady Glanedale elevated her eyebrows as if +surprised at the question. + +"Can you send for him?" + +"Certainly, if you wish it." She rang the bell, and a moment later +requested the maid who answered it to ask Mr. Robert to come +immediately. + +"Do you sleep with lowered blinds?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"The one nearest my bed I always keep down; the other I pull up +after putting out my light." + +"Did you awaken suddenly, or gradually--as if it were your usual +time to awaken?" + +"It was gradual," said Lady Glanedale, after a pause for thought. "I +remember having the feeling that someone was looking at me." + +"Was the light from the torch shining on your face?" + +"No, it was turned to the opposite side of the room, on my right as +I lay in bed." + +At that moment a young man in tweeds entered. + +"You want me, Mater?" he enquired; then, looking across at Malcolm +Sage with a slightly troubled shadow in his eyes, he bowed. + +"This is Mr. Sage from the insurance company," said. Lady Glanedale +coldly. "He wishes to see you." + +Again there was the slightly troubled look in young Glanedale's eyes. + +"Perhaps you will place Mr. Glanedale in the exact position in which +the man was standing when you first saw him," said Malcolm Sage. + +Without a word Lady Glanedale walked over to the spot she had +indicated, young Glanedale following. When she had got him into the +desired position she turned interrogatingly to Malcolm Sage. + +"Now," he said, "will you be so kind as to lie on your bed in the +same position in which you were when you awakened." + +For a moment Lady Glanedale's eyebrows indicated surprise. She used +her eyebrows more than any other feature for the purpose of +expressing emotion. Without comment, however, she lay down upon the +bed on her right side, closed her eyes, then a moment later sat up +and gazed in the direction where Glanedale stood looking awkward and +self-conscious. + +"Perhaps you will repeat every movement you made," said Malcolm Sage. +"Try to open the safe-door exactly as you did then, and leave it at +the same angle. Every detail is important." + +Lady Glanedale rose, picked up a wrapper that was lying over a +chair-back, put it on and, walking over to the safe, turned the key +that was in the lock, and opened it. Then, standing between the safe +and Glanedale, she took out a jewel-case and closed the door. +Finally she walked over to where her stepson stood, and handed him +the jewel-case. + +"Thank you," said Malcolm Sage. "I wanted to see whether or not the +man had the opportunity of seeing into the safe." + +"I took care to stand in front of it," she said. + +"So I observed. You allowed the quarter of an hour to elapse before +you raised the alarm?" + +"Certainly, I had promised," was the response. + +"But a promise extorted by threats of violence is not binding," he +suggested as he pulled meditatively at his right ear. + +"It is with me," was the cold retort. + +He inclined his head slightly. + +"I notice that the ground beneath the windows has been roped off." + +"The inspector thought it had better be done, as there were +footprints." + +"I will not trouble you further for the present, Lady Glanedale," +said Malcolm Sage, moving towards the door. "I should like to spend +a little time in the grounds. Later I may require to interrogate the +servants." + +Young Glanedale opened the door and his stepmother, followed by +Malcolm Sage, passed out. They descended the stairs together. + +"Please don't trouble to come out," said Malcolm Sage. "I shall +probably be some little time," this as Lady Glanedale moved towards +the hall-door. "By the way," he said, as she turned towards the +morning-room where she had received him, "did you happen to notice +if the man was wearing boots, or was he in stockinged feet?" + +"I think he wore boots, she said, after a momentary pause. + +"Thank you," and Malcolm Sage turned towards the door, which was +held open by the butler. + +Passing down the steps and to the left, he walked round to the side +of the house, where the space immediately beneath Lady Glanedale's +windows had been roped off. + +Stepping over the protecting rope, he examined the ground beneath +the window through which the burglar had entered. + +Running along the side of the house was a flowerbed some two feet +six inches wide, and on its surface was clearly indicated a series +of footprints. On the side of the painted water-pipe were scratches +such as might have been made by someone climbing up to the window +above. + +Drawing a spring metal-rule from his pocket, he proceeded to take a +series of measurements, which he jotted down in a notebook. + +He next examined the water-pipe up which the man presumably had +climbed, and presently passed on to a similar pipe farther to the +left. Every inch of ground he subjected to a careful and elaborate +examination, lifting the lower branches of some evergreens and +gazing beneath them. + +Finally, closing his notebook with a snap, Malcolm Sage seated +himself upon a garden-seat and, carefully filling and lighting his +pipe, he became absorbed in the polished pinkness of the third +fingernail of his left hand. + +A quarter of an hour later he was joined by young Glanedale. + +"Found anything?" he enquired. + +"There are some footprints," said Malcolm Sage, looking at him +keenly. "By the way, what did you do when you heard of the robbery?" + +"I went to the Mater's room." + +"And after that?" + +"I rushed downstairs and started looking about." + +"You didn't happen to come anywhere near this spot, or walk upon the +mould there?" He nodded at the place he had just been examining. + +"No; as a matter of fact, I avoided it. The Mater warned me to be +careful." + +Malcolm Sage nodded his head. + +"Did the butler join you in your search?" he enquired. + +"About five minutes later he did. He had to go back and put on some +things; he was rather sketchy when he turned up in the Mater's +room." Glanedale grinned at the recollection. + +"And you?" Malcolm Sage flashed on him that steel grey look of +interrogation. For a moment the young man seemed embarrassed, and he +hesitated before replying. + +"As a matter of fact, I hadn't turned in," he said at length. + +"I see," said Malcolm Sage, and there was something in his tone that +caused Glanedale to look at him quickly. + +"It was such a rippin' night that I sat at my bedroom window +smoking," he explained a little nervously. + +"Which is your bedroom window?" + +Glanedale nodded in the direction of the farther end of the house. + +"That's the governor's dressing-room," he said, indicating the +window on the left of that through which the burglar had escaped, +"and the next is mine." + +"Did you see anything?" enquired Malcolm Sage, who, having unscrewed +the mouthpiece of his pipe, proceeded to clean it with a blade of +grass. + +Again there was the slightest suggestion of hesitation before +Glanedale replied. + +"No, nothing. You see," he added hastily, "I was not looking out of +the window, merely sitting at it. As a matter of fact, I was facing +the other way." + +"You heard no noise?" + +Glanedale shook his head. + +"So that the first intimation you had of anything being wrong was +what?" he asked. + +"I heard the Mater at her door calling for assistance, and I went +immediately." + +Malcolm Sage turned and regarded the water-pipe speculatively. + +"I wonder if anyone really could climb up that," he said. "I'm sure +I couldn't." + +"Nothing easier," said Glanedale. "I could shin up in two ticks," +and he made a movement towards the pipe. + +"No," said Malcolm Sage, putting a detaining hand upon his arm. "If +you want to demonstrate your agility, try the other. There are marks +on this I want to preserve." + +"Right-o," cried Glanedale with a laugh, and a moment later he was +shinning up the further pipe with the agility of a South Sea +islander after coker-nuts. + +Malcolm Sage walked towards the pipe, glanced at it, and then at the +footprints beneath. + +"You were quite right," he remarked casually. Then a moment later he +enquired: + +"Do you usually sit up late?" + +"We're not exactly early birds," Glanedale replied a little +irrelevantly. "The Mater plays a lot of bridge, you know," he added. + +"And that keeps you out of bed?" + +"Yes and no," was the reply. "I can't afford to play with the +Mater's crowd; but I have to hang about until after they've gone. +The governor hates it. You see," he added confidentially, "when a +man's had to make his money, he knows the value of it." + +"True," said Malcolm Sage, but from the look in his eyes his +thoughts seemed elsewhere. + +"By the way, what time was it that you had a shower here last +night?" + +"A shower?" repeated Glanedale. "Oh! yes, I remember, it was just +about twelve o'clock; it only lasted about ten minutes." + +"I'll think things over," said Malcolm Sage, and Glanedale, taking +the hint, strolled off towards the house. + +Malcolm Sage walked over to where an old man was trimming a hedge. + +"Could you lend me a trowel for half an hour?" he enquired. + +"No, dang it, I can't," growled the old fellow. "I ain't a-going to +lend no more trowels or anything else." + +"Why?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"There's my best trowel gone out of the tool-house," he grumbled, +"and I ain't a-going to lend no others." + +"How did it go?" + +"How should I know?" he complained. "Walked out, I suppose, same as +trowels is always doin'." + +"When did you miss it?" + +"It was there day 'fore yesterday I'll swear, and I ain't a-going to +lend no more." + +"Do you think the man who took the jewels stole it?" enquired +Malcolm Sage. + +"Dang the jools," he retorted, "I want my trowel," and, grumbling to +himself, the old fellow shuffled off to the other end of the hedge. + +Half an hour later Malcolm Sage was in Hyston, interviewing the +inspector of police, who was incoherent with excitement. He learned +that Scotland Yard was sending down a man that afternoon, +furthermore that elaborate enquiries were being made in the +neighbourhood as to any suspicious characters having recently been +seen. + +Malcolm Sage asked a number of questions, to which he received more +or less impatient replies. The inspector was convinced that the +robbery was the work of the same man who had got away with Mrs. +Comminge's jewels, and he was impatient with anyone who did not +share this view. + +From the police station Malcolm Sage went to The Painted Flag, where, +having ordered lunch, he got through to the Twentieth Century +Insurance Corporation, and made an appointment to meet one of the +assessors at Home Park at three o'clock. + + + + +CHAPTER X A LESSON IN DEDUCTION + + + + +I + + +Mr. Grimwood, of the firm of Grimwood, Galton & Davy, insurance +assessors, looked up from the list in his hand. He was a shrewd +little man, with side-whiskers, pince-nez that would never sit +straight upon his aquiline nose, and an impressive cough. + +He glanced from Malcolm Sage to young Glanedale, then back again to +Malcolm Sage; finally he coughed. + +The three men were seated in Sir Roger Glanedale's library awaiting +the coming of Lady Glanedale. + +"And yet Mr. Glanedale heard nothing," remarked Mr. Grimwood +musingly. "Strange, very strange." + +"Are you in the habit of sitting smoking at your bedroom window?" +enquired Malcolm Sage of Glanedale, his eyes averted. + +"Er--no, not exactly," was the hesitating response. + +"Can you remember when last you did such a thing?" was the next +question. + +"I'm afraid I can't," said Glanedale, with an uneasy laugh. + +"Perhaps you had seen something that puzzled you," continued Malcolm +Sage, his restless fingers tracing an imaginary design upon the +polished surface of the table before him. + +Glanedale was silent. He fingered his moustache with a nervous hand. +Mr. Grimwood looked across at Malcolm Sage curiously. + +"And you were watching in the hope of seeing something more," +continued Malcolm Sage. + +"I----" began Glanedale, starting violently, then he stopped. + +"Don't you think you had better tell us exactly what it was you +saw," said Malcolm Sage, raising a pair of gold-rimmed eyes that +mercilessly beat down the uneasy gaze of the young man. + +"I--I didn't say I saw anything." + +"It is for you to decide, Mr. Glanedale," said Malcolm Sage, with +an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, "whether it is +better to tell your story now, or under cross-examination in the +witness-box. There you will be under oath, and the proceedings will +be public." + +At that moment Lady Glanedale entered, and the three men rose. + +"I am sorry to interrupt you," she said coldly, "but Sir Roger has +just telephoned and wishes to speak to Mr. Glanedale." + +"I fear we shall have to keep Sir Roger waiting," said Malcolm Sage, +walking over to the door and closing it. + +Lady Glanedale looked at him in surprise. + +"I do not understand," she began. + +"You will immediately," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "We were just +discussing the robbery." He slightly stressed the word "robbery." + +"Really----" began Lady Glanedale. + +"Mr. Glanedale was sitting at his window smoking," continued Malcolm +Sage evenly. "He cannot remember ever having done such a thing +before. I suggested that something unusual had attracted his +attention, and that he was waiting to see what would follow. I was +just about to tell him what had attracted his attention when you +entered, Lady Glanedale." + +Glanedale looked across at his step-mother and then at Malcolm Sage. +His misery was obvious. + +"Last night, soon after twelve," continued Malcolm Sage, "Mr. +Glanedale happened to look out of his window and was surprised to +see a figure moving along towards the left. It was not the figure of +a man with a handkerchief tied across his face as a mask; but a +woman. He watched. He saw it pause beneath the second window of your +bedroom, Lady Glanedale, not the one by which the burglar entered. +Then it stooped down." + +Malcolm Sage's fingers seemed to be tracing each movement of the +mysterious figure upon the surface of the table. Lady Glanedale +gazed at his long, shapely hands as if hypnotised. + +"Presently," he continued, "it returned to the first window, where +it was occupied for some minutes. Mr. Glanedale could not see this; +but the figure was engaged in making footprints and marking the +sides of the water-pipe with a shoe or boot as high up as it could +reach. It----" + +"How dare you make such an accusation!" cried Lady Glanedale, making +an effort to rise; but she sank back again in her chair, her face +plaster-white. + +"I have made no accusation," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "I am +telling what Mr. Glanedale saw." + +A hunted look sprang to Lady Glanedale's eyes. She tore her eyes +from those magnetic fingers and gazed about her wildly as if +meditating flight. Her throat seemed as if made of leather. + +"Would you be prepared to deny all this in the witness-box under +oath, Mr. Glanedale?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +Glanedale looked at him with unseeing eyes, then across at his +step-mother. + +"The woman had put on a pair of men's boots that the footprints +might be masculine. They were so much too large for her that she had +to drag her feet along the ground. The boots were those of a man +weighing, say, about eleven and a half stone; the weight inside +those boots shown by the impression in the mould was little more +than seven stone." + +Lady Glanedale put out her hand as if to ward off a blow; but +Malcolm Sage continued mercilessly, addressing Glanedale. + +"The length of a man's stride is thirty inches; between these steps +the space was less than fifteen inches. Skirts are worn very +narrow." + +He paused, then, as Lady Glanedale made no reply, he turned to +Glanedale. + +"I asked you this morning," he said, "to climb the other pipe for +the double purpose of examining the impress of your boots on the +mould as you left the ground and when you dropped back again on to +the mould. Also to see what sort of marks a pair of leather boots +would make upon the weatherworn paint of the pipe. + +"As you sprang from the ground and clutched the pipe, there was a +deep impress on the mould of the soles of both boots, deep at the +toes and tapering off towards the heel. On your return you made +distinct heel-marks as well." + +Lady Glanedale had buried her face in her hands. She must blot out +the sight of those terrible hands! Glanedale sat with his eyes upon +Malcolm Sage as if hypnotised. + +"There was a shower of rain last night about twelve, an hour before +the alleged burglar arrived; yet the footprints were made before the +rain fell. In two cases leaves had been trodden into the footprints; +yet on these leaves were drops of rain just as they had fallen." + +The hands seemed to draw the leaves and indicate the spots of water +as if they had been blood. Glanedale shuddered involuntarily. + +"In the centre-part of the pipe there were no marks, although there +were light scratches for as high up as the arm of a short person +could reach, and as far down from the bedroom window as a similar +arm could stretch. These scratches were quite dissimilar from those +made on the other pipe." + +Lady Glanedale moaned something unintelligible. + +"Although there had been a shower and the mould was wet," proceeded +Malcolm Sage, "there were no marks of mud or mould on the pipe, on +the window-sill, or in Lady Glanedale's bedroom, which, I understand, +had purposely not been swept. A man had slid down that water-pipe; +yet he had done so without so much as removing the surface dust from +the paint. + +"He had reached the ground as lightly as a fairy, without making any +mark upon the mould; the footprints were merely those of someone +approaching and walking from the pipe." + +Glanedale drew a cigarette case from his pocket; opened it, took out +a cigarette, then, hesitating a moment, replaced it, and returned +the case to his pocket, his eyes all the time on Malcolm Sage. + +"I think," continued Malcolm Sage, "we shall find that the burglar +has buried the jewel-case a few yards to the right of the pipe he is +supposed to have climbed." His forefinger touched a spot on the +extreme right of the table. "There are indications that the mould +has been disturbed. Incidentally a trowel is missing----" + +Glanedale suddenly sprang to his feet, just as Lady Glanedale fell +forward in her chair--she had fainted. + + + + +II + + +"It's a very unpleasant business," remarked Mr. Goodge, the General +Manager of the Twentieth Century Insurance Company, as he looked up +from reading a paper that Malcolm Sage had just handed to him. In it +Lady Glanedale confessed the fraud she had sought to practise upon +the Corporation. "A very unpleasant business," he repeated. + +Malcolm Sage gazed down at his finger-nails, as if the matter had no +further interest for him. When his brain was inactive, his hands +were at rest. + +"I don't know what view the Board will take," continued Mr. Goodge, +as Malcolm Sage made no comment. + +"They will probably present me with another walking-stick," he +remarked indifferently. + +Mr. Goodge laughed. Malcolm Sage's walking-stick had been a standing +joke between them. + +"What made you first suspect Lady Glanedale?" he enquired. + +"She had omitted to rehearse the episode of the burglary, and +consequently when it came to reconstructing the incident, she failed +in a very important particular." Malcolm Sage paused. + +"What was that?" enquired Mr. Goodge with interest, as he pushed a +box of cigars towards Malcolm Sage, who, however, shaking his head, +proceeded to fill his pipe. + +"She had already told me that the key of the safe was always kept +beneath a pile of handkerchiefs in one of the drawers of her +dressing-table; yet when I asked her to go through exactly the same +movements and actions as when the burglar entered her room, she rose +direct from the bed and went to the safe. The dressing-table was at +the other end of the room, and to get to it she would have had to +pass the spot where she said the man was standing." + +Mr. Goodge nodded his head appreciatively. + +"The next point was that I discovered it was Lady Glanedale who +suggested to the police inspector that means should be taken to +prevent anyone approaching the water-pipe by which the man was +supposed to have climbed. She was anxious that the footprints should +be preserved. + +"Another point was that young Glanedale happened to remark that his +step-mother was much addicted to bridge, and that the stakes were +too high to admit of his joining in. Also that men who have +themselves accumulated their wealth know the value of money. Sir +Roger disliked bridge and probably kept his lady short." + +"Most likely," agreed Mr. Goodge. "He has the reputation of being a +bit shrewd in money matters. When did you begin to suspect Lady +Glanedale?" + +"From the first," was the reply. "Everything rang false. Lady +Glanedale's story suggested that it had been rehearsed until she had +it by heart," continued Malcolm Sage. "It was too straightforward, +too clearly expressed for the story of a woman who had just lost +eight thousand pounds' worth of jewels. When I put questions to her +she hesitated before replying, as if mentally comparing her intended +answer with what she had already told. + +"Then she was so practical in preparing a list of the lost jewels at +once, and in warning her stepson not to go near the spot beneath her +window, as there might be footprints; this at a time when she was +supposed to be in a state of great excitement." + +"Did you suspect young Glanedale at all?" queried Mr. Grimwood. + +"No," said Malcolm Sage, "but to make quite sure I cast doubt upon +the possibility of anyone climbing the pipe. If he had been +concerned he would not have volunteered to prove I was wrong." + +"True," said Mr. Goodge as he examined critically the glowing end of +his cigar. "Lady Glanedale seems to have done the job very clumsily, +now that you have explained everything." + +"Even the professional criminal frequently underrates the +intelligence of those whose business it is to frustrate him; but +Lady Glanedale's efforts in marking the water-pipe would not have +deceived a child. A powerful magnifying-glass will show that on all +such exterior pipes there is an accumulation of dust, which would be +removed from a large portion of the surface by anyone climbing +either up or down. Lady Glanedale had thought marks made by a boot +or a shoe would be sufficient confirmation of her story. She is +rather a stupid woman," he added, as he rose to go. + +"I suppose she got the idea from the Comminge affair?" + +"Undoubtedly," was the response; "but as I say, she is a stupid +woman. Vanity in crime is fatal; it leads the criminal to underrate +the intelligence of others. Lady Glanedale is intensely vain." + +"The Board will probably want to thank you personally," said Mr. +Goodge as he shook hands; "but I'll try and prevent them from giving +you another walking-stick," he laughed as he opened the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XI THE MCMURRAY MYSTERY + + + + +I + + +Of the many problems upon which Malcolm Sage was engaged during the +early days of the Malcolm Sage Bureau, that concerning the death of +Professor James McMurray, the eminent physiologist, was perhaps the +most extraordinary. It was possessed of several remarkable features; +for one thing the murderer had disappeared, leaving no clue; for +another the body when found seemed to have undergone a strange +change, many of the professor's sixty-five years appearing to have +dropped from him in death as leaves from an autumn tree. + +It was one of those strange crimes for which there is no apparent +explanation, consequently the strongest weapon the investigator has, +that of motive, was absent. As far as could be gathered the dead +professor had not an enemy in the world. He was a semi-recluse, with +nothing about him to tempt the burglar; yet he had been brutally +done to death in his own laboratory, and the murderer had made good +his escape without leaving anything likely to prove helpful to the +police. + +One day as Gladys Norman, like "panting Time," toiled after her work +in vain, striving to tap herself up to date with an accumulation of +correspondence, the telephone-bell rang for what seemed to her the +umpteenth time that morning. She seized the receiver as a dog seizes +a rat, listened, murmured a few words in reply, then banged it back +upon its rest. + +"Oh dear!" she sighed. "I wish they'd let him alone. The poor dear +looks tired out." She turned to William Johnson, who had just +entered. "Why don't you hurry up and become a man, Innocent," she +demanded, "so that you can help the Chief?" + +William Johnson looked vague and shuffled his feet. His admiration +of Malcolm Sage's secretary rendered him self-conscious in her +presence. + +"Sir John Dene and Sir Jasper Chambers to see the Chief," he +announced, obviously impressed by the social importance of the +callers. + +"Sure it's not the Shah of Persia and Charlie Chaplin?" she asked +wearily as she rose from her table and, walking over to the door +marked "Private," passed into Malcolm Sage's room. + +Reappearing a moment later she instructed William Johnson to show +the visitors in at once. + +As the two men passed through Miss Norman's room, they formed a +striking contrast, Sir John Dene short, thick-set, alert, with the +stamp of the West-End upon all he wore; Sir Jasper Chambers tall, +gaunt arid dingy, with a forehead like the bulging eaves of an +Elizabethan house, and the lower portion of his face a riot of short +grizzled grey hair that seemed to know neither coercion nor +restraint. His neck appeared intent on thrusting itself as far as +possible out of the shabby frock-coat that hung despairingly from +his narrow shoulders. + +"I wonder," murmured Gladys Norman, as she returned to her typing, +"how many geraniums he had to give for those clothes." + +"Morning, Mr. Sage," cried Sir John Dene. + +Malcolm Sage rose. There was an unwonted cordiality in the way in +which he extended his hand. + +"This is Sir Jasper Chambers." Sir John Dene turned to his companion. +"You'll be able to place him," and he twirled the unlit cheroot +between his lips with bewildering rapidity. + +Sir Jasper bowed with an old-world courtliness and grace that seemed +strangely out of keeping with his lank and unpicturesque bearing. +Malcolm Sage, however, held out his hand with the air of one wishing +to convey that a friend of Sir John Dene merited special +consideration. + +He motioned the two men to seats and resumed his own. Both declined +the box of cigars he proffered, Sir John Dene preferring the +well-chewed cheroot between his lips, whilst Sir Jasper drew a pipe +from the tail-pocket of his frock-coat, which with long fleshless +fingers he proceeded to fill from a chamois-leather tobacco-pouch. + +"I've brought Sir Jasper along," said Sir John Dene. "You've heard +about the murder of his friend Professor McMurray. He didn't want to +come; but I told him you'd be tickled to death, and that you'd get +it all figured out for him in two wags of a chipmunk's tail." + +Malcolm Sage looked across at the eminent philanthropist, whose +whole attention seemed absorbed in the filling of his well-worn +briar. + +Sir Jasper's wise charities and great humanitarianism were +world-famous. It was Will Blink, the Labour demagogue, who had said +that of all the honours conferred during the century, Sir Jasper +Chambers' O.M. had alone been earned, the others had been either +bought or wangled. + +The McMurray Murder was the sensation of the hour. The newspapers +had "stunted" it, and the public, always eager for gruesome +sensation, had welcomed it as if it had been a Mary Pickford film. + +Four days previously, Professor James McMurray of Gorling, in Essex, +had been found dead in his laboratory, his head fearfully battered +in by some blunt instrument. + +It was the professor's custom, when engaged upon important research +work, to retire, sometimes for days at a time, to a laboratory he +had built in his own grounds. + +Meals were passed through a small wicket, specially constructed for +that purpose in the laboratory wall, and the professor's servants +had the most explicit instructions on no account to disturb him. + +A fortnight previously Professor McMurray had retired to his +laboratory to carry out an important series of experiments. He +informed his butler that Sir Jasper Chambers, his life-long friend, +would visit him on the third day, and that dinner for two was to be +supplied in the usual way, through the wicket. + +On the evening in question, Sir Jasper Chambers had arrived and +stayed until a little past nine. He then left the laboratory and +proceeded to the house, where he told the butler that his master was +quite well, and that in all probability his researches would occupy +him another week. + +Eight days later, when the butler took the professor's luncheon down +to the laboratory, he noticed that the breakfast-tray had not been +removed from the shelf just inside the wicket. Convinced that the +professor had been so absorbed in his researches that he had +forgotten the meal, the butler placed the luncheon-tray beside that +containing the breakfast, thinking it better to leave the earlier +meal as a reminder to the professor of his forgetfulness. + +At dinner-time the butler was greatly surprised to find that both +breakfast and luncheon had remained as he had left them; still, +remembering how definite and insistent the professor had been that +he was not to be disturbed, the butler had, after consulting with +the housekeeper, decided to do nothing for the moment, and contented +himself with ringing several times the electric-bell that was the +signal of another meal. + +An hour later he went once more to the wicket, only to discover that +nothing had been touched. Hurrying back to the house with all speed +he had conferred with Mrs. Graham, the housekeeper, and, on her +insistence, he had telephoned to the police. + +Sergeant Crudden of the Essex County Constabulary immediately +bicycled over to "The Hollows," Professor McMurray's residence, and, +after hearing the butler's story, he had decided to force the door; +there are no windows, the laboratory being lighted from above, in +order to secure entire privacy. + +To the officer's surprise the door yielded readily, having +apparently been previously forced. Entering the laboratory he was +horrified to discover the body of the professor lying in the centre +of the floor, his head literally smashed by a terrible blow that had +obviously been delivered from behind. + +Acting on the instructions of the police-sergeant, the butler had +telephoned the news to the police-station at Strinton, with the +result that shortly afterwards Inspector Brewitt arrived with a +doctor. + +The police had made no statement; but there were some extraordinary +rumours current in the neighbourhood. One was to the effect that it +was not Professor McMurray's body that had been discovered; but that +of a much younger man who bore a striking resemblance to him. + +"You have seen the accounts of my friend's terrible end?" enquired +Sir Jasper, as he took the box of matches Malcolm Sage handed him +and proceeded to light his pipe. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. His gaze was fixed upon Sir Jasper's grey +worsted socks, which concertinaed up his legs above a pair of +strangely-fashioned black shoes. + +"He was about to enter upon a series of experiments with a serum he +had discovered, his object being to lengthen human life." + +Sir Jasper spoke in a gentle, well-modulated voice, in which was a +deep note of sadness. He and Professor McMurray had been life-long +friends, their intimacy appearing to become strengthened by the +passage of years. + +"You were the last to see him alive, I understand." Malcolm Sage +picked up his fountain-pen and began an elaborate stipple design of +a serpent upon the blotting-pad. + +"Eight days before he was found I dined with him," said Sir Jasper, +his voice a little unsteady. + +"What happened?" Malcolm Sage enquired without looking up. + +"I arrived at seven o'clock," continued Sir Jasper. "From then until +half-past we talked upon things of general interest, after which we +dined. Later he told me he was about to enter upon a final series of +experiments, the result of which would, in all probability, either +be fatal to himself, or mean the lengthening of human life." + +He paused, gazing straight in front of him, ejecting smoke from his +lips in staccatoed puffs. Then he continued: + +"He said that he had recently made a will, which was lying with his +solicitor, and he gave me certain additional instructions as to the +disposal of his property." + +"Did he seem quite normal?" enquired Malcolm Sage, adding a pair of +formidable fangs to his reptile. + +"He was calm and confident. At parting he told me I should be the +first to know the result." + +"Have you any reason to believe that Professor McMurray had +enemies?" Malcolm Sage enquired. + +"None," was the reply, uttered in a tone of deep conviction, +accompanied by a deliberate wagging of the head. + +"He was confident of the success of his experiments?" + +"Absolutely." + +"And you?" + +"I had no means of knowing," was the reply. + +"You were his greatest friend and his only confidant?" suggested +Malcolm Sage, adding the sixth pair of legs to his creation. + +"Yes." + +"And you were to be the first to be told of the result of the +experiments?" + +"Those were his last words to me." + +There was a suggestion of emotion in Sir Jasper's otherwise even +voice. + +"Can you remember his actual words?" + +"Yes; I remember them," he replied sadly. "As we shook hands he said, +'Well, Chambers, you will be the first to know the result.'" + +Again there was silence, broken at length by Malcolm Sage, who +stroked the back of his head with his left hand. His eyes had +returned to Sir Jasper's socks. + +"Do you think the professor had been successful in his experiments?" +he enquired. + +"I cannot say." Again Sir Jasper shook his head slowly and +deliberately. + +"Did you see the body?" + +"I did." + +"Is there any truth in the rumours that he looked much younger?" + +"There was certainly a marked change, a startling change," was the +reply. + +"But death plays odd tricks with years," suggested Malcolm Sage, who +was now feeling the lobe of his left ear as if to assure himself of +its presence. + +"True," said Sir Jasper, nodding his head as if pondering the matter +deeply. "True." + +"There was an article in last month's _The Present Century_ by Sir +Kelper Jevons entitled 'The Dangers of Longevity.' Did you read it?" +enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"I did." + +"I read it too," broke in Sir John Dene, who had hitherto remained +an interested listener, as he sat twirling round between his lips +the still unlit cheroot. "A pretty dangerous business it seems to me, +this monkeying about with people's glands." + +"It called attention to the danger of any interference with Nature's +carefully-adjusted balances between life and death," continued +Malcolm Sage, who had returned to the serpent which now sported a +pair of horns, "and was insistent that the lengthening of human life +could result only in harm to the community. Do you happen to know if +Professor McMurray had seen this?" + +"He had." Sir Jasper leaned forward to knock the ashes from his pipe +into the copper tray on Malcolm Sage's table. "We talked of it +during dinner that evening. His contention was that science could +not be constricted by utilitarianism, and that Nature would adjust +her balances to the new conditions." + +"But," grumbled Sir John Dene, "it wouldn't be until there had been +about the tallest kind of financial panic this little globe of +misery has ever seen." + +"The article maintained that there would be an intervening period of +chaos," remarked Malcolm Sage meditatively, as he opened a drawer +and took from it a copy of _The Present Century_. "I was +particularly struck with this passage," he remarked: + +"'It is impossible to exaggerate the extreme delicacy of the +machinery of modern civilization,' he read. 'Industrialism, the +food-supply, existence itself are dependent upon the death-rate. +Reduce this materially and it will inevitably lead to an upheaval of +a very grave nature. For instance, it would mean an addition of +something like a million to the population of the United Kingdom +each year, over and above those provided for by the normal excess of +births over deaths, and _it would be years before Nature could +readjust_ her balances.'" + +Malcolm Sage looked across at Sir Jasper, who for some seconds +remained silent, apparently deep in thought. + +"I think," he said presently, with the air of a man carefully +weighing his words, "that McMurray was inclined to under-estimate +the extreme delicacy of the machinery of modern civilization. I +recall his saying that the arguments in that article would apply +only in the very unlikely event of someone meeting with unqualified +success. That is to say, by the discovery of a serum that would +achieve what the Spaniards hoped of the Fountain of Eternal Youth, +an instantaneous transformation from age to youth." + +"A sort of Faust stunt," murmured Sir John Dene. + +Sir Jasper nodded his head gravely. + +For some minutes the three men sat silent, Sir Jasper gazing +straight in front of him, Sir John Dene twirling his cheroot between +his lips, his eyes fixed upon the bald dome-like head of Malcolm +Sage, whose eyes were still intent upon his horned reptile, which he +had adorned with wings. He appeared to be thinking deeply. + +"It's up to you, Mr. Sage, to get on the murderer's trail," said Sir +John Dene at length, with the air of a man who has no doubt as to +the result. + +"You wish me to take up the case, Sir John?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +looking up suddenly. + +"Sure," said Sir John Dene as he rose. "I'll take it as a particular +favour if you will. Now I must vamoose. I've got a date in the +city." He jerked himself to his feet and extended a hand to Malcolm +Sage. Then turning to Sir Jasper, who had also risen, he added, "You +leave it to Mr. Sage, Sir Jasper. Before long you won't see him for +dust. He's about the livest wire this side of the St. Lawrence," and +with this enigmatical assurance, he walked to the door, whilst +Malcolm Sage shook hands with Sir Jasper. + + + + +II + + +"Johnnie," said Miss Norman, as William Johnson entered her room in +response to a peremptory call on the private-telephone, "Inspector +Carfon is to honour us with a call during the next few minutes. Give +him a chair and a copy of _The Sunday at Home_, and watch the clues +as they peep out of his pockets. Now buzz off." + +William Johnson returned to his table in the outer office and the +lurid detective story from which Miss Norman's summons had torn him. +He was always gratified when an officer from Scotland Yard called; +it seemed to bring him a step nearer to the great crook-world of his +dreams. William Johnson possessed imagination; but it was the +imagination of the films. + +A quarter of an hour later he held open the door of Malcolm Sage's +private room to admit Inspector Carfon, a tall man, with small +features and a large forehead, above which the fair hair had been +sadly thinned by the persistent wearing of a helmet in the early +days of his career. + +"I got your message, Mr. Sage," he began, as he flopped into a chair +on the opposite side of Malcolm Sage's table. "This McMurray case is +a teaser. I shall be glad to talk it over with you." + +"I am acting on behalf of Sir Jasper Chambers," said Malcolm Sage. +"It's very kind of you to come round so promptly, Carfon," he added, +pushing a box of cigars towards the inspector. + +"Not at all, Mr. Sage," said Inspector Carfon as he selected a cigar. +"Always glad to do what we can, although we are supposed to be a bit +old-fashioned," and he laughed the laugh of a man who can afford to +be tolerant. + +"I've seen all there is in the papers," said Malcolm Sage. "Are +there any additional particulars?" + +"There's one thing we haven't told the papers, and it wasn't +emphasised at the inquest." The inspector leaned forward +impressively. + +Malcolm Sage remained immobile, his eyes on his finger-nails. + +"The doctor," continued the inspector, "says that the professor had +been dead for about forty-eight hours, whereas we _know_ he'd eaten +a dinner about twenty-six hours before he was found." + +Malcolm Sage looked up slowly. In his eyes there was an alert look +that told of keen interest. + +"You challenged him?" he queried. + +"Ra-_ther_," was the response, "but he got quite ratty. Said he'd +stake his professional reputation and all that sort of thing." + +Malcolm Sage meditatively inclined his head several times in +succession; his hand felt mechanically for his fountain-pen. + +"Then there was another thing that struck me as odd," continued +Inspector Carfon, intently examining the end of his cigar. "The +professor had evidently been destroying a lot of old correspondence. +The paper-basket was full of torn-up letters and envelopes, and the +grate was choc-a-bloc with charred paper. That also we kept to +ourselves." + +"That all?" + +"I think so," was the reply. "There's not the vestige of a clue that +I can find." + +"I see," said Malcolm Sage, looking at a press-cutting lying before +him, "that it says there was a remarkable change in the professor's +appearance. He seemed to have become rejuvenated." + +"The doctor said that sometimes 'death smites with a velvet hand.' +He was rather a poetic sort of chap," the inspector added by way of +explanation. + +"He saw nothing extraordinary in the circumstance?" + +"No," was the response. "He seemed to think he was the only one who +had ever seen a dead man before. I wouldn't mind betting I've seen +as many stiffs as he has, although perhaps he's caused more." + +Then as Malcolm Sage made no comment, the inspector proceeded. + +"What I want to know is what was the professor doing while the door +was being broken open?" + +"There were no signs of a struggle?" enquired Malcolm Sage, drawing +a cottage upon his thumbnail. + +"None. He seems to have been attacked unexpectedly from behind." + +"Was there anything missing?" + +"We're not absolutely sure. The professor's gold watch can't be +found; but the butler is not certain that he had it on him." + +For some time there was silence. Malcolm Sage appeared to be +pondering over the additional facts he had just heard. + +"What do you want me to do, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector at +length. + +"I was wondering whether you would run down with me this afternoon +to Gorling." + +"I'd be delighted," was the hearty response. "Somehow or other I +feel it's not an ordinary murder. There's something behind it all." + +"What makes you think that?" Malcolm Sage looked up sharply. + +"Frankly, I can't say, Mr. Sage," he confessed a little shamefacedly, +"it's just a feeling I have." + +"The laboratory has been locked up?" + +"Yes; and I've sealed the door. Nothing has been touched." + +Malcolm Sage nodded his head approvingly and, for fully five minutes, +continued to gaze down at his hands spread out on the table before +him. + +"Thank you, Carfon. Be here at half-past two." + +"The funeral's to-day, by the way," said the inspector as he rose +and, with a genial "good morning," left the room. + +For the next hour Malcolm Sage was engaged in reading the newspaper +accounts of the McMurray Mystery, which he had already caused to be +pasted up in the current press-cutting book; he gathered little more +from them, however, than he already knew. + +That afternoon, accompanied by Inspector Carfon, Malcolm Sage +motored down to "The Hollows," which lies at the easternmost end of +the village of Gorling. + +The inspector stopped the car just as it entered the drive. The two +men alighted and, turning sharply to the right, walked across the +lawn towards an ugly red-brick building, screened from the house by +a belt of trees. Malcolm Sage had expressed a wish to see the +laboratory first. + +It was a strange-looking structure, some fifty feet long by about +twenty feet wide, with a door on the further side. In the red-brick +wall nearer the house there was nothing to break the monotony except +the small wicket through which the professor's meals were passed. + +Malcolm Sage twice walked deliberately round the building. In the +meantime the inspector had removed the seal from the padlock and +opened the door. + +"Did you photograph the position of the body?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +as they entered. + +"I hadn't a photographer handy," said the inspector apologetically, +as he closed the door behind him; "but I managed to get a man to +photograph the wound." + +"Put yourself in the position of the body," said Malcolm Sage. + +The inspector walked to the centre of the room, near a +highly-polished table, dropped on to the floor and, after a moment's +pause, turned and lay on his left side, with right arm outstretched. + +From just inside the door Malcolm Sage looked about him. At the left +extremity a second door gave access to another apartment, which the +professor used as a bedroom. + +A little to the right of the door, on the opposite side, stood the +fireplace. This was full of ashes, apparently the charred remains of +a quantity of paper that had been burnt. On the hearth were several +partially-charred envelopes, and the paper-basket contained a number +of torn-up letters. + +"That will do, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage, as he walked over to the +fireplace and, dropping on one knee, carefully examined the ashes, +touching them here and there with the poker. + +He picked up something that glittered and held it out to the +inspector who scrambled to his feet, and stood looking down with +keen professional interest. + +"Piece of a test tube," remarked Malcolm Sage, as he placed the +small piece of glass upon the table. + +"Moses' aunt!" gasped the inspector. "I missed that, though I saw a +lot of bits of glass. I thought it was an electric bulb." + +"Somebody had ground it to powder with his heel, all except this +piece. Looks as if there might have been more than one," he added +more to himself than to the inspector. + +"These are not letters," he continued without looking up. + +"Not letters?" + +"The paper is all of the same quality. By the way, has anyone +disturbed it?" He indicated the grate. + +"No one," was the reply. + +Malcolm Sage rose to his feet. For some minutes he stood looking +down at the fireplace, stroking the back of his head, deep in +thought. + +Presently he picked up the poker, a massive steel affair, and +proceeded to examine the fire-end with great minuteness. + +"It was done with the other end," said the inspector. "He must have +wiped it afterwards. There was no sign of blood or hair." + +Malcolm Sage ignored the remark, and continued to regard the +business-end of the poker. Walking over to the door, he examined the +fastenings. Having taken a general survey, he next proceeded to a +detailed scrutiny of everything the place contained. From the +fireplace he picked up what looked like a cinder and placed it in a +small box, which he put in his pocket. + +The polished surface of the table he subjected to a careful +examination, borrowing the inspector's magnifying-glass for the +purpose. On hands and knees he crawled round the table, still using +the magnifying-glass upon the linoleum, with which the floor was +covered. From time to time he would pick up some apparently minute +object and transfer it to another small box. At length he rose to +his feet as if satisfied. + +"The professor did not smoke?" he queried. + +"No; but the murderer did," was the rather brusque reply. Inspector +Carfon was finding the role of audience trying, alike to his nerves +and to his temper. + +"Obviously," was Malcolm Sage's dry retort. "He also left his pipe +behind and had to return for it. It was rather a foul pipe, too," he +added. + +"Left his pipe behind!" cried the inspector, his irritation dropping +from him like a garment. "How on earth----!" In his surprise he left +the sentence unfinished. + +"Here," Malcolm Sage indicated a dark stain on the highly-polished +table, "and here," he pointed to a few flecks of ash some four or +five inches distant, "are indications that a pipe has remained for +some considerable time, long enough for the nicotine to drain +through the stem; it was a very foul pipe, Carfon." + +"But mightn't that have trickled out in a few minutes, or while the +man was here?" objected Inspector Carfon. + +"With a wet smoker the saliva might have drained back," said Malcolm +Sage, his eyes upon the stain, "but this is nicotine from higher up +the stem, which would take time to flow out. As to leaving it on the +table, what inveterate smoker would allow a pipe to lie on a table +for any length of time unless he left it behind him? The man smoked +like a chimney; look at the tobacco ash in the fireplace." + +The inspector stared at Malcolm Sage, chagrin in his look. + +"Now that photograph, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage. + +Taking a letter-case from his breast-pocket, Inspector Carfon drew +out a photograph folded in half. This he handed to Malcolm Sage, who, +after a keen glance at the grim and gruesome picture, put it in his +pocket. + +"I thought so," he murmured. + +"Thought what, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector eagerly. + +"Left-handed." When keenly interested Malcolm Sage was more than +usually economical in words. + +"Clean through the left side of the occipital bone," Malcolm Sage +continued. "No right-handed man could have delivered such a blow. +That confirms the poker." + +The inspector stared. + +"The sockets of the bolts, and that of the lock, have been loosened +from the inside with the poker," explained Malcolm Sage in a +matter-of-fact tone. "The marks upon the poker suggest a left-handed +man. The wound in the head proves it." + +"Then the forced door was a blind?" gasped the inspector. + +"The murderer was let in by the professor himself, who was +subsequently attacked from behind as he stood with his back to the +fireplace. You are sure the grate has not been touched?" He suddenly +raised his eyes in keen interrogation. + +Inspector Carfon shook his head. He had not yet recovered from his +surprise. + +"Someone has stirred the ashes about so as to break up the charred +leaves into small pieces to make identification impossible. This man +has a brain," he added. + +The inspector gave vent to a prolonged whistle. "I knew there was +something funny about the whole business," he said as if in +self-defence. + +Malcolm Sage had seated himself at the table, his long thin fingers +outspread before him. Suddenly he gave utterance to an exclamation +of annoyance. + +The inspector bent eagerly forward. + +"The pipe," he murmured. "I was wrong. He put it down because he was +absorbed in something, probably the papers he burnt." + +"Then you think the murderer burnt the papers?" enquired the +inspector in surprise. + +"Who else?" asked Malcolm Sage, rising. "Now we'll see the butler." + +Whilst the inspector was locking and re-sealing the door, Malcolm +Sage walked round the building several times in widening circles, +examining the ground carefully; but there had been no rain for +several weeks, and nothing upon its surface suggested a footprint. + + + + +CHAPTER XII THE MARMALADE CLUE + + + + +I + + +AS Malcolm Sage and Inspector Carfon crossed the lawn from the +laboratory, Sir Jasper Chambers was seen coming down the drive +towards them. + +"There's Sir Jasper," cried the inspector. + +When they reached the point where the lawn joined the drive they +paused, waiting for Sir Jasper to approach. He walked with long, +loose strides, his head thrust forward, his mind evidently absorbed +and far away from where he was. His coat flapped behind him, and at +each step his trousers jerked upwards, displaying several inches of +grey worsted sock. + +"Good afternoon, Sir Jasper," said Inspector Carfon, stepping +forward and lifting his hat. + +Sir Jasper stopped dead, with the air of one who has suddenly been +brought to a realisation of his whereabouts. For a moment he stared +blankly, then apparently recognition came to his aid. + +"Good afternoon, inspector," he responded, lifting his black felt +hat with a graceful motion that seemed strangely out-of-keeping with +his grotesque appearance. In the salutation he managed to include +Malcolm Sage, who acknowledged it with his customary jerky nod. + +"We have just been looking at the laboratory," said the inspector. + +"Ah!" Sir Jasper nodded his head several times. "The laboratory!" + +"Will you oblige me with your pouch, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage, +drawing his pipe from his pocket. "I've lost mine." + +Inspector Carfon thrust his hand into his left-hand pocket, then +began to go hurriedly through his other pockets with the air of a +man who has lost something. + +"I had it a quarter of an hour ago," he said. "I must have dropped +it in the----" + +"Allow me, sir," said Sir Jasper, extending to Malcolm Sage his own +pouch, which he had extracted from his tail-pocket, whilst the +inspector was still engaged in his search. Malcolm Sage took it and +with a nod proceeded to fill his pipe. + +"Looks like Craven Mixture," he remarked without looking up from the +pipe which he was cramming from Sir Jasper's pouch. + +Malcolm Sage was an epicure in tobacco. + +"No; it's Ormonde Mixture," was the reply. "I always smoke it. It is +singularly mellow," he added, "singularly mellow." He continued to +look straight in front of him, whilst the inspector appeared anxious +to get on to the house. + +Having completed his task, Malcolm Sage folded the tobacco-pouch and +handed it back to Sir Jasper. + +"Thank you," he said, and proceeded to light his pipe. + +Apparently seeing nothing to detain him further, Sir Jasper lifted +his hat, bowed and passed on. + +"Regular old cure, isn't he?" remarked the inspector as they watched +the ungainly figure disappear round the bend of the drive. + +"A great man, Carfon," murmured Malcolm Sage, "a very great man," +and he turned and walked towards the house. + +The front door of "The Hollows" was opened by the butler, a +gentle-faced old man, in appearance rather like a mid-Victorian +lawyer. At the sight of the inspector, a troubled look came into his +eyes. + +"I want to have a few words with you," said Malcolm Sage quietly. + +The old man led the way to the library. Throwing open the door for +them to pass in, he followed and closed it behind him. Malcolm Sage +seated himself at the table and Inspector Carfon also dropped into a +chair. The butler stood, his hands half-closed before him, the palm +of one resting upon the knuckles of the other. His whole attitude +was half-nervous, half-fearful, and wholly deprecating. + +"I'm afraid this has been a great shock to you," said Malcolm Sage. + +Inspector Carfon glanced across at him. There was an unaccustomed +note of gentleness in his tone. + +"It has indeed, sir," said the butler, and two tears gathered upon +his lower lids, hung pendulous for a second, then raced one another +down either side of his nose. It was the first sympathetic word the +old man had heard since the police had arrived, insatiable for facts. + +"Sit down," said Malcolm Sage, without looking up, "I shall not keep +you many minutes." His tone was that one might adopt to a child. + +The old man obeyed, seating himself upon the edge of the chair, one +hand still placed upon the other. + +"You mustn't think because the police ask a lot of questions that +they mean to be unkind," said Malcolm Sage. + +"I--I believe they think I did it," the old man quavered, "and--and +I'd have done anything----" + +His voice broke, the tears coursing down his colourless cheeks. + +"I want you to try to help me find out who did kill your master," +continued Malcolm Sage, in the same tone, "and you can do that by +answering my questions." + +There was no restless movement of fingers now. The hard, keen look +had left his eyes, and his whole attention seemed to be concentrated +upon soothing the old man before him. + +With an obvious effort the butler strove to control himself. + +"Did the professor ever have visitors at his laboratory?" + +"Only Sir Jasper, sir. He was----" + +"Just answer my questions," said Malcolm Sage gently. "He told you, +I think, never on any account to disturb him?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you ever do so?" + +"Only once, sir." + +"That was?" + +"When Mrs. Graham, that's the housekeeper, sir, set fire to the +curtains of her room. I was afraid for the house, sir, and I ran +down and knocked at the laboratory door." + +"Did the professor open it?" + +"No, sir." + +"Perhaps he did not hear you?" + +"Yes, he did, sir. I knocked and kicked for a long time, then I ran +back to the house and found the fire had been put out." + +"Did Professor McMurray ever refer to the matter?" + +"He was very angry when I next saw him, sir, three days later." + +"What did he say?" + +"That neither fire nor murder was an excuse for interrupting him, +and if I did it again I would have to----" + +"Quite so," interrupted Malcolm Sage, desirous of saving the old +servitor the humiliation of explaining that he had been threatened +with dismissal. + +"So you are confident in your own mind that no amount of knocking at +the door would have caused your master to open it?" + +"Quite certain, sir," the butler said with deep conviction. "If he +had heard me murdering Mrs. Graham he wouldn't have come out," he +added gravely. "He used to say that man is for the moment; but +research is for all time. He was a very wonderful man, sir," he +added earnestly. + +"So that to get into the laboratory someone must have had a +duplicate key?" + +"No, sir, the professor always bolted the door on the inside." + +"Then he must have opened it himself?" + +"He wouldn't, sir. I'm sure he wouldn't." + +"But how did Sir Jasper get in?" + +"He was expected, sir, and when he went to the laboratory, the +master always ordered extra food. He was very absent-minded, sir; +but he always remembered that. He was very considerate, sir, too. He +never forgot my birthday," and he broke down completely, his frail +body shaken by sobs. + +Rising, Malcolm Sage placed his hand upon the old man's shoulder. As +if conscious of the unspoken message of sympathy inspired by the +touch, the butler clasped the hand in both his own. + +Inspector Carfon looked surprised. + +"He was so kind, sir, so kind and thoughtful," he quavered. "I don't +know what I shall do without him." There was in his voice something +of the querulous appeal of a little child. + +"Were letters ever taken to the laboratory?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +walking over to the window and gazing out. + +"Never, sir," was the reply. "Everything was kept until the +professor returned to the house, even telegrams." + +"Then he was absolutely cut off?" said Malcolm Sage, returning to +his seat. + +"That was what he used to say, sir, that he wanted to feel cut off +from everybody and everything." + +"You have seen the body?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you notice anything remarkable about it?" + +"He was more like he was some thirty years ago, sir." + +"Rejuvenated in fact." + +"I beg pardon, sir?" + +"He seemed to have become suddenly a much younger man?" explained +Malcolm Sage. + +"Yes, sir. I've been with him over thirty years, and he looked very +much as he did then, except, of course, that his hair remained +grey." + +"Apart from the food not being taken in, you noticed nothing else +that struck you as strange?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +The old man puckered up his eyebrows, as if genuinely anxious to +remember something that would please the man who had shown him so +much sympathy. + +"I can't think of anything, sir," he said at length, apologetically, +"only the marmalade, and that, of course, wouldn't----" + +"The marmalade?" Malcolm Sage turned quickly. + +"It was nothing, sir," said the old man. "Perhaps I oughtn't to have +mentioned it; but the morning before we found him, the master had +not eaten any marmalade, and him so fond of it. I was rather worried, +and I asked Mrs. Graham if it was a new brand, thinking perhaps he +didn't like it; but I found it was the same he always had." + +For fully a minute Malcolm Sage was silent, gazing straight before +him. + +"He never smoked?" he asked at length. + +"Never, sir, not during the whole thirty years I've been with him." + +"Who cleaned the laboratory? It did not look as if it had been +unswept for a week." + +"No, indeed, sir," was the reply, "the professor was very particular. +He always swept it up himself each morning. It was cleaned by one of +the servants once a month." + +"You're sure about the sweeping-up?" Malcolm Sage enquired with a +keen glance that with him always meant an important point. + +"Quite certain, sir." + +"That, I think, will be all." + +"Thank you, sir," said the butler, rising. "Thank you for being so +kind, and--and understanding, sir," and he walked a little +unsteadily from the room. + +"I was afraid you wouldn't get anything out of him, Mr. Sage," said +Inspector Carfon, with just a suspicion of relief in his voice. + +"No," remarked Malcolm Sage quietly, "nothing new; but an important +corroboration of the doctor's evidence." + +"What was that?" + +"That it was the murderer and not Professor McMurray who ate +Wednesday's breakfast, luncheon and dinner." + +"Good Lord!" The inspector's jaw dropped in his astonishment. + +"I suspect that for some reason or other he returned to +the laboratory; that accounts for the rough marks upon the +door-fastenings as if someone had first torn them off and then sought +to replace them. After his second visit the murderer evidently stayed +too long, and was afraid of being seen leaving the laboratory. He +therefore remained until the following night, eating the professor's +meals. Incidentally he knew all about his habits." + +"Well, I'm blowed if he isn't a cool un!" gasped the inspector. + +Malcolm Sage rose with the air of one who has concluded the business +on hand. + +"Can I run you back to town, Carfon?" he asked, as he walked towards +the door. + +"No, thank you," said the inspector. "I must go over to Strinton and +see Brewitt. He's following up a clue he's got. Some tramp who was +seen hanging about here for a couple of days just before the +murder," he added. + +"Unless he is tall and powerful, left-handed, with something more +than a layman's knowledge of surgery, you had better not trouble +about him," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "You might also note that the +murderer belongs to the upper, or middle class, has an iron nerve, +and is strongly humanitarian." + +For a moment Inspector Carfon stared at Malcolm Sage with lengthened +jaw. Then suddenly he laughed, a laugh of obvious relief. + +"At first I thought you were serious, Mr. Sage," he said, "till I +saw what you were up to. It's just like the story-book detectives," +and he laughed again, this time more convincingly. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders. "Let me have a description of +the man when you get him," he said, "and some of the tobacco he +smokes. Try him with marmalade, Carfon, and plenty of it. By the way, +you make a great mistake in not reading _The Present Century_," he +added. "It can be curiously instructive," and without another word +he crossed the hall and, a moment later, entered his car. + +"Swank!" murmured Inspector Carfon angrily, as he watched Tims swing +the car down the drive at a dangerous rate of speed, "pure, +unadulterated, brain-rotting swank," and he in turn passed down the +drive, determined to let Malcolm Sage see what he could do "on his +own." + + + + +II + + +Three weeks passed and there was no development in the McMurray +Mystery. Malcolm Sage had heard nothing from Inspector Carfon, who +was busily engaged in an endeavour to trace the tramp seen in the +neighbourhood of "The Hollows" on the day previous to the murder. + +Sir John Dene had called several times upon Malcolm Sage, whom he +had come to regard as infallible, only to be told that there was no +news. He made no comment; but it was obvious that he was greatly +disappointed. + +Interest began to wane, the newspapers devoted themselves to other +"stunts," and the McMurray Mystery seemed fated to swell the list of +unfathomed crimes with which, from time to time, the Press likes to +twit Scotland Yard. + +Suddenly the whole affair flared up anew, and Fleet Street once more +devoted itself and its columns to the death of Professor James +McMurray. + +A brief announcement that a man of the vagrant class had been +arrested in London whilst endeavouring to sell a gold watch believed +to be that of Professor McMurray, was the first spark. Later the +watch was identified and the man charged with the murder. He +protested his innocence, saying that he had picked up the watch by +the roadside, just outside Gorling, nearly a month before. There +were bloodstains upon his clothes, which he explained by saying he +had been fighting with another man who had made his nose bleed. + +Inspector Carfon, unable to keep a note of triumph out of his voice, +had telephoned the news to Malcolm Sage, who had asked for +particulars of the man, his pipe, and a specimen of his tobacco; but +day after day had passed without these being forthcoming. Finally +the man, against whom the police had built up a damaging case, had +been committed for trial. + +Two weeks later he was found guilty at the assizes and sentenced to +death. + +Then it was that Malcolm Sage had written to Inspector Carfon curtly +asking him to call at eleven on the following day, bringing with him +the information for which he had asked. At the same time he wrote to +Sir John Dene and Sir Jasper Chambers. + +Punctually at eleven on the following morning the inspector called +at the Malcolm Sage Bureau. + +"Sorry, Mr. Sage," he said, as he entered Malcolm Sage's room, "I've +been so rushed that I haven't been able to get round," and he +dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table. + +Malcolm Sage pushed across the cigar box. + +"That's his tobacco-box," said Inspector Carfon, placing on the +table a small tin-box. + +Opening it, and after a swift glance at the contents, Malcolm Sage +raised it to his nose: "Cigarette-ends," he remarked without looking +up. + +"And that's his pipe." The inspector laid on the table a black clap +pipe, with some two inches of stem attached to the bowl. + +Malcolm Sage scarcely glanced at it. Pulling out a drawer he +produced a small cardboard box, which he opened and pushed towards +the inspector. + +"That is the tobacco smoked by the murderer. The makers are prepared +to swear to it." + +"Where the deuce did you get it?" gasped the inspector. + +"Grain by grain from the linoleum in the laboratory," replied +Malcolm Sage. "That is why it was necessary to be sure it was swept +each day. It also helped me to establish the man as middle or upper +class. This tobacco is expensive. What is the man like who has been +condemned?" + +"A regular wandering willie," replied the inspector. "Oldish chap, +gives his age as sixty-one. Five foot three and a half, thin as a +rake, twenty-nine inch chest. Miserable sort of devil. Says he +picked up the watch about a quarter of a mile from 'The Hollows' +early one morning." + +"Does he eat marmalade?" + +"Eat it!" the inspector laughed. "He wolfs it. I remembered what you +said and took a pound along with me to Strinton, just for fun." He +looked across at Malcolm Sage a little shamefacedly. "I afterwards +heard that there was only the jar and the label left; but I don't +see what all this has to do with it. The fellow's got to swing for +it and----" + +"Carfon, you've made a fool of yourself." + +The inspector started back in his chair as if someone had struck him. + +"I gave you a description of the man who had killed Professor +McMurray; yet you proceed to build up a fantastical case against +this poor devil." + +"But----" began the inspector. He was interrupted by the door being +burst violently open and Sir John Dene shot into the room. + +For a moment he stood staring at the two men, Gladys Norman and +William Johnson framed in the doorway behind him. + +"Sir Jasper's killed himself," he cried. + +"Moses' aunt!" cried the inspector, starting to his feet. + +Malcolm Sage sat immovable at his table, his eyes upon his +outstretched hands. Slowly looking up he motioned to Miss Norman to +close the door, then nodded towards a chair into which Sir John Dene +sank. The inspector resumed his own seat. It was obvious that the +news had considerably shaken him. + +"You knew?" Sir John Dene interrogated, his voice a little unsteady. + +"I expected it," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "But how, Mr. Sage?" +enquired Inspector Carfon in a whisper, his throat dry with +excitement. + +"Because I wrote to him yesterday saying that I could not allow the +condemned man to be sacrificed. It was Sir Jasper Chambers who +killed Professor McMurray." + +For a moment Inspector Carfon's eyes looked as if they would start +out of his head. He turned and looked at Sir John Dene, who with +unsteady hand was taking a cheroot from his case. + +Malcolm Sage drew his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to fill it. + +"On the Tuesday night," he began, "it is obvious that Professor +McMurray admitted someone to the laboratory. That man was Sir Jasper +Chambers. + +"When the two had dined together a week before," proceeded Malcolm +Sage, "an appointment was obviously made for a week later. The +professor's last words were significant: 'Anyway, Chambers, you will +be the first to know.' If the experiments had proved fatal, how +could Sir Jasper be the first to know unless an appointment had been +made for him to call at the laboratory and discover for himself the +result?" + +The inspector coughed noisily. + +"When Sir Jasper learned of the unqualified success of the +experiments, and saw by the professor's changed appearance proof of +his triumph, he remembered the article in _The Present Century_. He +realised that in the lengthening of human life a terrible +catastrophe threatened the world. Humanitarianism triumphed over his +affection for his friend, and he killed him." + +Sir John Dene nodded his head in agreement. The inspector was +leaning forward, his arms on the table, staring at Malcolm Sage with +glassy eyes. + +"The assailant was clearly a tall, powerful man and left-handed. +That was shown by the nature of the blow. That he had some knowledge +of physiology is obvious from the fact that he made no attempt at a +second blow to insure death, as a layman most likely would have done. +He knew that he had smashed the occipital bone right into the brain. +In his early years Sir Jasper studied medicine. + +"The crime committed, Sir Jasper proceeded to cover his tracks. With +the poker he loosened the sockets of the bolts and that of the lock +in order to give an impression that the door had been burst open +from without. He then left the place and, to suggest robbery as a +motive for the crime, he took with him the professor's gold watch, +which he threw away. This was found a few hours later by the tramp +whom you, Carfon, want to hang for a crime of which he knows +nothing." There was a note of sternness in Malcolm Sage's voice. + +"But----" began the inspector. + +"I suspect," continued Malcolm Sage, "that after he had left the +laboratory, Sir Jasper suddenly realised that the professor had +probably recorded in his book all his processes. He returned, +discovered the manuscript, and was for hours absorbed in it, at +first smoking continuously, later too interested in his task to +think of his pipe. It must be remembered that he had studied +medicine." + +The inspector glanced across at Sir John Dene, who sat rigidly in +his chair, his eyes fixed upon Malcolm Sage. + +"I rather think that he was aroused from his preoccupation by the +ringing of the bell announcing the arrival of the professor's +breakfast. He then realised that he could not leave the place until +nightfall. He therefore ate that meal, carefully avoiding the +marmalade, which he disliked, and subsequently he consumed the +luncheon, and dinner, passed through the wicket." + +Malcolm Sage paused to press down the tobacco in his pipe. + +"He burned the manuscript, tearing up letters and throwing them into +the waste-paper basket to give the appearance of Professor McMurray +having had a clearing-up. He then destroyed all the test-tubes he +could find. Finally he left the laboratory late on the Wednesday +night, or early Thursday morning." + +"But how did you find out all this?" It was Sir John Dene who spoke. + +"First of all, Sir Jasper and the murderer smoke the same tobacco, +'Ormonde Mixture.' I verified that by picking Inspector Carfon's +pocket." Taking a tobacco-pouch from a drawer Malcolm Sage handed it +across the table. "You will remember Sir Jasper lent me his pouch. I +had picked up some tobacco on the floor and on the hearth. + +"Secondly, the murderer was left-handed, and so is Sir Jasper. + +"Thirdly, the murderer does not eat marmalade and Sir Jasper had the +same distaste." + +"But how----?" began the inspector. + +"I telephoned to his housekeeper in the name of a local grocer and +asked if it would be Sir Jasper who had ordered some marmalade, as +an assistant could not remember the gentleman's name. That grocer, I +suspect, got into trouble, as the housekeeper seemed to expect him +to know that Sir Jasper disliked marmalade." + +"Well, you seem to have got the thing pretty well figured out," +remarked Sir John Dene grimly. + +"Another man's life and liberty were at stake," was the calm reply, +"otherwise----" he shrugged his shoulders. + +"As Sir Jasper did not come forward I wrote to him yesterday giving +him until noon to-day to make a statement," continued Malcolm Sage, +"otherwise I should have to take steps to save the man condemned." + +Then after a short pause he continued: "In Sir Jasper Chambers you +have an illustration of the smallness of a great mind. He has +devoted his vast wealth to philanthropy; yet he was willing to allow +another man to be hanged for his crime." + +"And this, I take it," said Sir John Dene, "is his reply," and he +handed a letter across to Malcolm Sage. + +"Read it out," he said. + +Malcolm Sage glanced swiftly through the pages and then read:-- + +My Dear Dene,---- + +By the time you receive this letter I shall be dead. I have just +received a letter from Mr. Malcolm Sage, which shows him to be a man +of remarkable perception, and possessed of powers of analysis and +deduction that I venture to think must be unique. All he says is +correct, but for one detail. I left the laboratory in the first +instance with the deliberate intention of returning, although I did +not realise the significance of the manuscript until after I had +tampered with the fastenings of the doors. Had my servants found +that my bed had not been slept in, suspicion might have attached +itself to me. I therefore returned to remedy this, and I left a note +to say that I had gone out early for a long walk, a thing I +frequently do. + +In his experiments McMurray had succeeded beyond his wildest +imaginings, and I foresaw the horrors that must inevitably follow +such a discovery as his. I had to choose between myself and the +welfare of the race, and I chose the race. + +I did not come forward to save the man condemned for the crime, as I +regarded my life of more value to the community than his. + +Will you thank Mr. Sage for the very gentle and humane way in which +he has written calling upon me to see that justice be not outraged. + +I am sending this letter by hand. My body will be found in my study. +I have used morphia as a means of satisfying justice. + + Very sincerely yours, + Jasper Chambers. + +"It was strange I should have made that mistake about the reason for +his leaving the laboratory," said Malcolm Sage meditatively. "I made +two mistakes, one I corrected; but the other was unpardonable." + +And he knocked the ashes from his pipe on to the copper tray before +him with the air of a man who is far from satisfied. + +"And I might have arrested an O.M.," murmured Inspector Carfon, as +he walked down Whitehall. "Damn." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII THE GYLSTON SLANDER + + +"It's all very well for the Chief to sit in there like a five-guinea +palmist," Gladys Norman cried one morning, as after interviewing the +umpteenth caller that day she proceeded vigorously to powder her +nose, to the obvious interest of William Johnson; "but what about +me? If anyone else comes I must speak the truth. I haven't an unused +lie left." + +"Then you had better let Johnson have a turn," said a quiet voice +behind her. + +She span round, with flaming cheeks and white-flecked nose, to see +the steel grey eyes of Malcolm Sage gazing on her quizzically +through gold-rimmed spectacles. There was only the slightest +fluttering at the corners of his mouth. + +As his activities enlarged, Malcolm Sage's fame had increased, and +he was overwhelmed with requests for assistance. Clients bore down +upon him from all parts of the country; some even crossing the +Channel, whilst from America and the Colonies came a flood of +letters giving long, rambling details of mysteries, murders and +disappearances, all of which he was expected to solve. + +Those who wrote, however, were as nothing to those who called. They +arrived in various stages of excitement and agitation, only to be +met by Miss Gladys Norman with a stereotyped smile and the equally +stereotyped information that Mr. Malcolm Sage saw no one except by +appointment, which was never made until the nature of the would-be +client's business had been stated in writing. + +The Surrey cattle-maiming affair, and the consequent publicity it +gave to the name of Malcolm Sage, had resulted in something like a +siege of the Bureau's offices. + +"I told you so," said Lady Dene gaily to her husband, and he had +nodded his head in entire agreement. + +Malcolm Sage's success was largely due to the very quality that had +rendered him a failure as a civil servant, the elasticity of his +mind. + +He approached each problem entirely unprejudiced, weighed the +evidence, and followed the course it indicated, prepared at any +moment to retrace his steps, should they lead to a cul-de-sac. + +He admitted the importance of the Roman judicial interrogation, "cui +bono?" (whom benefits it?); yet he realised that there was always +the danger of confusing the pathological with the criminal. + +"The obvious is the correct solution of most mysteries," he had once +remarked to Sir James Walton; but there is always the possibility of +exception. + +The Surrey cattle-maiming mystery had been a case in point. Even +more so was the affair that came to be known as "The Gylston +Slander." In this case Malcolm Sage arrived at the truth by a +refusal to accept what, on the face of it, appeared to be the +obvious solution. + +It was through Roger Freynes, the eminent K.C., that he first became +interested in the series of anonymous letters that had created +considerable scandal in the little village of Gylston. + +Tucked away in the north-west corner of Hampshire, Gylston was a +village of some eight hundred inhabitants. The vicar, the Rev. John +Crayne, had held the living for some twenty years. Aided by his wife +and daughter, Muriel, a pretty and high-spirited girl of nineteen, +he devoted himself to the parish, and in return enjoyed great +popularity. + +Life at the vicarage was an ideal of domestic happiness. Mr. and Mrs. +Crayne were devoted to each other and to their daughter, and she to +them. Muriel Crayne had grown up among the villagers, devoting +herself to parish work as soon as she was old enough to do so. She +seemed to find her life sufficient for her needs, and many were the +comparisons drawn by other parents in Gylston between the vicar's +daughter and their own restless offspring. + +A year previously a new curate had arrived in the person of the Rev. +Charles Blade. His frank, straightforward personality, coupled with +his good looks and masculine bearing, had caused him to be greatly +liked, not only by the vicar and his family, but by all the +parishioners. + +Suddenly and without warning the peace of the vicarage was destroyed. +One morning Mr. Crayne received by post an anonymous letter, in +which the names of his daughter and the curate were linked together +in a way that caused him both pain, and anxiety. + +A man with a strong sense of honour himself, he cordially despised +the anonymous letter-writer, and his first instinct had been to +ignore that which he had just received. On second thoughts, however, +he reasoned that the writer would be unlikely to rest content with a +single letter; but would, in all probability, make the same +calumnious statements to others. + +After consulting with his wife, he had reluctantly questioned his +daughter. At first she was inclined to treat the matter lightly; but +on the grave nature of the accusations being pointed out to her, she +had become greatly embarrassed and assured him that the curate had +never been more than ordinarily attentive to her. + +The vicar decided to allow the matter to rest there, and accordingly +he made no mention of the letter to Blade. + +A week later his daughter brought him a letter she had found lying +in the vicarage grounds. It contained a passionate declaration of +love, and ended with a threat of what might happen if the writer's +passion were not reciprocated. + +Although the letter was unsigned, the vicar could not disguise from +himself the fact that there was a marked similarity between the +handwriting of the two anonymous letters and that of his curate. He +decided, therefore, to ask Blade if he could throw any light on the +matter. + +At first the young man had appeared bewildered; then he had pledged +his word of honour, not only that he had not written the letters, +but that there was no truth in the statements they contained. + +With that the vicar had to rest content; but worse was to follow. + +Two evenings later, one of the churchwardens called at the vicarage +and, after behaving in what to the vicar seemed a very strange +manner, he produced from his pocket a letter he had received that +morning, in which were repeated the scandalous statements contained +in the first epistle. + +From then on the district was deluged with anonymous letters, all +referring to the alleged passion of the curate for the vicar's +daughter, and the intrigue they were carrying on together. Some of +the letters were frankly indelicate in their expression and, as the +whole parish seethed with the scandal, the vicar appealed to the +police for aid. + +One peculiarity of the letters was that all were written upon the +same paper, known as "Olympic Script." This was supplied locally to +a number of people in the neighbourhood, among others, the vicar, +the curate, and the schoolmaster. + +Soon the story began to find its way into the newspapers, and +Blade's position became one full of difficulty and embarrassment. He +had consulted Robert Freynes, who had been at Oxford with his father, +and the K.C., convinced of the young man's innocence, had sought +Malcolm Sage's aid. + +"You see, Sage," Freynes had remarked, "I'm sure the boy is straight +and incapable of such conduct; but it's impossible to talk to that +ass Murdy. He has no more imagination than a tin-linnet." + +Freynes's reference was to Chief Inspector Murdy, of Scotland Yard, +who had been entrusted with the enquiry, the local police having +proved unequal to the problem. + +Although Malcolm Sage had promised Robert Freynes that he would +undertake the enquiry into the Gylston scandal, it was not until +nearly a week later that he found himself at liberty to motor down +into Hampshire. + +One afternoon the vicar of Gylston, on entering his church, found a +stranger on his knees in the chancel. Note-book in hand, he was +transcribing the inscription of a monumental brass. + +As the vicar approached, he observed that the stranger was +vigorously shaking a fountain-pen, from which the ink had evidently +been exhausted. + +At the sound of Mr. Crayne's footsteps the stranger looked up, +turning towards him a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, above which a +bald conical head seemed to contradict the keenness of the eyes and +the youthful lines of the face beneath. + +"You are interested in monumental brasses?" enquired the vicar, as +he entered the chancel, and the stranger rose to his feet. "I am the +vicar," he explained. There was a look of eager interest in the pale +grey eyes that looked out from a placid, scholarly face. + +"I was taking the liberty of copying the inscription on this," +replied Malcolm Sage, indicating the time-worn brass at his feet, +"only unfortunately my fountain-pen has given out." + +"There is pen and ink in the vestry," said the vicar, impressed by +the fact that the stranger had chosen the finest brass in the church, +one that had been saved from Cromwell's Puritans by the ingenuity of +the then incumbent, who had caused it to be covered with cement. +Then as an afterthought the vicar added, "I can get your pen filled +at the vicarage. My daughter has some ink; she always uses a +fountain-pen." + +Malcolm Sage thanked him, and for the next half-hour the vicar +forgot the worries of the past few weeks in listening to a man who +seemed to have the whole subject of monumental brasses and Norman +architecture at his finger-ends. + +Subsequently Malcolm Sage was invited to the vicarage, where another +half-hour was occupied in Mr. Crayne showing him his collection of +books on brasses. + +As Malcolm Sage made a movement to depart, the vicar suddenly +remembered the matter of the ink, apologised for his remissness, and +left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of +fountain-pen ink. Malcolm Sage drew from his pocket his pen, and +proceeded to replenish the ink from the bottle. Finally he completed +the transcription of the lettering of the brass from a rubbing +produced by the vicar. + +Reluctant to allow so interesting a visitor to depart, Mr. Crayne +pressed him to take tea; but Malcolm Sage pleaded an engagement. + +As they crossed the hall, a fair girl suddenly rushed out from a +door on the right. She was crying hysterically. Her hair was +disordered, her deep violet eyes rimmed with red, and her moist lips +seemed to stand out strangely red against the alabaster paleness of +her skin. + +"Muriel!" + +Malcolm Sage glanced swiftly at the vicar. The look of scholarly +calm had vanished from his features, giving place to a set sternness +that reflected the tone in which he had uttered his daughter's name. + +At the sight of a stranger the girl had paused, then, as if +realising her tear-stained face and disordered hair, she turned and +disappeared through the door from which she had rushed. + +"My daughter," murmured the vicar, a little sadly, Malcolm Sage +thought. "She has always been very highly strung and emotional," he +added, as if considering some explanation necessary. "We have to be +very stern with her on such occasions. It is the only way to repress +it." + +"You find it answers?" remarked Malcolm Sage. + +"She has been much better lately, although she has been sorely tried. +Perhaps you have heard." + +Malcolm Sage nodded absently, as he gazed intently at the thumb-nail +of his right hand. A minute later he was walking down the drive, his +thoughts occupied with the pretty daughter of the vicar of Gylston. + +At the curate's lodgings he was told that Mr. Blade was away, and +would not return until late that night. + +As he turned from the gate, Malcolm Sage encountered a pale-faced, +narrow-shouldered man with a dark moustache and a hard, peevish +mouth. + +To Malcolm Sage's question as to which was the way to the inn, he +nodded in the direction from which he had come and continued on his +way. + +"A man who has failed in what he set out to accomplish," was Malcolm +Sage's mental diagnosis of John Gray, the Gylston schoolmaster. + +It was not long before Malcolm Sage realised that the village of +Gylston was intensely proud of itself. It had seen in the London +papers accounts of the mysterious scandal of which it was the centre. +A Scotland Yard officer had been down, and had subjected many of the +inhabitants to a careful cross-examination. In consequence Gylston +realised that it was a village to be reckoned with. + +The Tired Traveller was the centre of all rumour and gossip. Here +each night in the public-bar, or in the private-parlour, according +to their social status, the inhabitants would forgather and discuss +the problem of the mysterious letters. Every sort of theory was +advanced, and every sort of explanation offered. Whilst popular +opinion tended to the view that the curate was the guilty party, +there were some who darkly shook their heads and muttered, "We shall +see." + +It was remembered and discussed with relish that John Gray, the +schoolmaster, had for some time past shown a marked admiration for +the vicar's daughter. She, however, had made it clear that the +cadaverous, saturnine pedagogue possessed for her no attractions. + +During the half-hour that Malcolm Sage spent at The Tired Traveller, +eating a hurried meal, he heard all there was to be heard about +local opinion. + +The landlord, a rubicund old fellow whose baldness extended to his +eyelids, was bursting with information. By nature capable of making +a mystery out of a sunbeam, he revelled in the scandal that hummed +around him. + +After a quarter of an hour's conversation, the landlord's +conversation, Malcolm Sage found himself possessed of a bewildering +amount of new material. + +"A young gal don't have them highsterics for nothin'," my host +remarked darkly. "Has fits of 'em every now and then ever since she +was a flapper, sobbin' and cryin' fit to break 'er heart, and the +vicar that cross with her." + +"That is considered the best way to treat hysterical people," +remarked Malcolm Sage. + +"Maybe," was the reply, "but she's only a gal, and a pretty one +too," he added inconsequently. + +"Then there's the schoolmaster," he continued, "'ates the curate +like poison, he does. Shouldn't be surprised if it was him that done +it. 'E's always been a bit sweet in that quarter himself, has Mr. +Gray. Got talked about a good deal one time, 'angin' about arter +Miss Muriel," added the loquacious publican. + +By the time Malcolm Sage had finished his meal, the landlord was +well in his stride of scandalous reminiscence. It was with obvious +reluctance that he allowed so admirable a listener to depart, and it +was with manifest regret that he watched Malcolm Sage's car +disappear round the curve in the road. + +A little way beyond the vicarage, an admonitory triangle caused Tims +to slow up. Just by the bend Malcolm Sage observed a youth and a +girl standing in the recess of a gate giving access to a meadow. +Although they were in the shadow cast by the hedge, Malcolm Sage's +quick eyes recognised in the girl the vicar's daughter. The youth +looked as if he might be one of the lads of the village. + +In the short space of two or three seconds Malcolm Sage noticed the +change in the girl. Although he could not see her face very clearly, +the vivacity of her bearing and the ready laugh were suggestive of a +gaiety contrasting strangely with the tragic figure he had seen in +the afternoon. + +Muriel Crayne was obviously of a very mercurial temperament, he +decided, as the car swung round the bend. + +The next morning, in response to a telephone message, Inspector +Murdy called on Malcolm Sage. + +"Well, Mr. Sage," he cried, as he shook hands, "going to have +another try to teach us our job," and his blue eyes twinkled +good-humouredly. + +The inspector had already made up his mind. He was a man with +many successes to his record, achieved as a result of undoubted +astuteness in connection with the grosser crimes, such as +train-murders, post-office hold-ups and burglaries. He was incapable, +however, of realising that there existed a subtler form of +law-breaking, arising from something more intimately associated with +the psychic than the material plane. + +"Did you see Mr. Blade?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"Saw the whole blessed lot," was the cheery reply. "It's all as +clear as milk," and he laughed. + +"What did Mr. Blade say?" enquired Malcolm Sage, looking keenly +across at the inspector. + +"Just that he had nothing to say." + +"His exact words. Can you remember them?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +"Oh, yes!" replied the inspector. "He said, 'Inspector Murdy, I have +nothing to say,' and then he shut up like a real Whitstable." + +"He was away yesterday," remarked Malcolm Sage, who then told the +inspector of his visit. "How about John Gray, the schoolmaster?" he +queried. + +"He practically told me to go to the devil," was the genial reply. +Inspector Murdy was accustomed to rudeness; his profession invited +it, and to his rough-and-ready form of reasoning, rudeness meant +innocence; politeness guilt. + +He handed to Malcolm Sage a copy of a list of people who purchased +"Olympic Script" from Mr. Grainger, the local Whiteley, volunteering +the information that the curate was the biggest consumer, as if that +settled the question of his guilt. + +"And yet the vicar would not hear of the arrest of Blade," murmured +Malcolm Sage, turning the copper ash-tray round with his restless +fingers. + +The inspector shrugged his massive shoulders. + +"Sheer good nature and kindliness, Mr. Sage," he said. "He's as +gentle as a woman." + +"I once knew a man," remarked Malcolm Sage, "who said that in the +annals of crime lay the master-key to the world's mysteries, past, +present and to come." + +"A dreamer, Mr. Sage," smiled the inspector. "We haven't time for +dreaming at the Yard," he added good-temperedly, as he rose and +shook himself like a Newfoundland dog. + +"I suppose it never struck you to look elsewhere than at the +curate's lodgings for the writer of the letters?" enquired Malcolm +Sage quietly. + +"It never strikes me to look about for someone when I'm sitting on +his chest," laughed Inspector Murdy. + +"True," said Malcolm Sage. "By the way," he continued, without +looking up, "in future can you let me see every letter as it is +received? You might also keep careful record of how they are +delivered." + +"Certainly, Mr. Sage. Anything that will make you happy." + +"Later I may get you to ask the vicar to seal up any subsequent +anonymous letters that reach him without allowing anyone to see the +contents. Do you think he would do that?" + +"Without doubt if I ask him," said the inspector, surprise in his +eyes as he looked down upon the cone of baldness beneath him, +realising what a handicap it is to talk to a man who keeps his eyes +averted. + +"He must then put the letters in a place where no one can possibly +obtain access to them. One thing more," continued Malcolm Sage, +"will you ask Miss Crayne to write out the full story of the letters +as far as she personally is acquainted with it?" + +"Very well, Mr. Sage," said the inspector, with the air of one +humouring a child. "Now I'll be going." He walked towards the door, +then suddenly stopped and turned. + +"I suppose you think I'm wrong about the curate?" + +"I'll tell you later," was the reply. + +"When you find the master-key?" laughed the inspector, as he opened +the door. + +"Yes, when I find the master-key," said Malcolm Sage quietly and, as +the door closed behind Inspector Murdy, he continued to finger the +copper ashtray as if that were the master-key. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV MALCOLM SAGE PLAYS PATIENCE + + + + +I + + +Malcolm Sage was seated at a small green-covered table playing +solitaire. A velvet smoking-jacket and a pair of wine-coloured +morocco slippers suggested that the day's work was done. + +Patience, chess, and the cinema were his unfailing sources of +inspiration when engaged upon a more than usually difficult case. He +had once told Sir James Walton that they clarified his brain and +coordinated his thoughts, the cinema in particular. The fact that in +the surrounding darkness were hundreds of other brains, vital and +active, appeared to stimulate his own imagination. + +Puffing steadily at a gigantic meerschaum, he moved the cards with a +deliberation which suggested that his attention rather than his +thoughts was absorbed in the game. + +Nearly a month had elapsed since he had agreed to take up the +enquiry into the authorship of the series of anonymous letters with +which Gylston and the neighbourhood had been flooded; yet still the +matter remained a mystery. + +A celebrated writer of detective stories had interested himself in +the affair, with the result that the Press throughout the country +had "stunted" Gylston as if it had been a heavy-weight championship, +or a train murder. + +For a fortnight Malcolm Sage had been on the Continent in connection +with the theft of the Adair Diamonds. Two days previously, after +having restored the famous jewels to Lady Adair, he had returned to +London, to find that the Gylston affair had developed a new and +dramatic phase. The curate had been arrested for an attempted +assault upon Miss Crayne and, pleading "not guilty," had been +committed for trial. + +The incident that led up to this had taken place on the day that +Malcolm Sage left London. Late that afternoon Miss Crayne had +arrived at the vicarage in a state bordering on collapse. On +becoming more collected, she stated that on returning from paying a +call, and when half-way through a copse, known locally as "Gipsies +Wood," Blade had sprung out upon her and violently protested his +passion. He had gripped hold of her wrists, the mark of his fingers +was to be seen on the delicate skin, and threatened to kill her and +himself. She had been terrified, thinking he meant to kill her. The +approach of a farm labourer had saved her, and the curate had +disappeared through the copse. + +This story was borne out by Joseph Higgins, the farm labourer in +question. He had arrived to find Miss Crayne in a state of great +alarm and agitation, and he had walked with her as far as the +vicarage gate. He did not, however, actually see the curate. + +On the strength of this statement the police had applied for a +warrant, and had subsequently arrested the curate. Later he appeared +before the magistrates, had been remanded, and finally committed for +trial, bail being allowed. + +Blade protested his innocence alike of the assault and the writing +of the letters; but two hand-writing experts had testified to the +similarity of the handwriting of the anonymous letters with that of +the curate. Furthermore, they were all written upon "Olympic +Script," the paper that Blade used for his sermons. + +Malcolm Sage had just started a new deal when the door opened, and +Rogers showed in Robert Freynes. With a nod, Malcolm Sage indicated +the chair opposite. His visitor dropped into it and, taking a pipe +from his pocket, proceeded to fill and light it. + +Placing his meerschaum on the mantelpiece, Malcolm Sage produced a +well-worn briar from his pocket, which, having got into commission, +he proceeded once more with the game. + +"It's looking pretty ugly for Blade," remarked Freynes, recognising +by the substitution of the briar for the meerschaum that Malcolm +Sage was ready for conversation. + +"Tell me." + +"It's those damned handwriting experts," growled Freynes. "They're +the greatest anomaly of our legal system. The judge always warns the +jury of the danger of accepting their evidence; yet each side +continues to produce them. It's an insult to intelligence and +justice." + +"To hang a man because his 's' resembles that of an implicating +document," remarked Malcolm Sage, as he placed a red queen on a +black knave, "is about as sensible as to imprison him because he has +the same accent as a foot-pad." + +"Then there's Blade's astonishing apathy," continued Freynes. "He +seems quite indifferent to the gravity of his position. Refuses to +say a word. Anyone might think he knew the real culprit and was +trying to shield him," and he sucked moodily at his pipe. + +"The handwriting expert," continued Malcolm Sage imperturbably, "is +too concerned with the crossing of a 't,' the dotting of an 'i,' or +the tail of a 'g,' to give time and thought to the way in which the +writer uses, for instance, the compound tenses of verbs. Blade was +no more capable of writing those letters than our friend Murdy is of +transliterating the Rosetta Stone." + +"Yes; but can we prove it?" asked Freynes gloomily, as with the +blade of a penknife he loosened the tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. +"Can we prove it?" he repeated and, snapping the knife to, he +replaced it in his pocket. + +"Blade's sermons," Malcolm Sage continued, "and such letters of his +as you have been able to collect, show that he adopted a very +definite and precise system of punctuation. He frequently uses the +colon and the semicolon, and always in the right place. In a +parenthetical clause preceded by the conjunction 'and,' he uses a +_comma_ after the 'and,' not before it as most people do. Before +such words as 'yet' and 'but,' he without exception uses a semicolon. +The word 'only,' he always puts in its correct place. In short, he +is so academic as to savour somewhat of the pomposity of the +eighteenth century." + +"Go on," said Freynes, as Malcolm Sage paused, as if to give the +other a chance of questioning his reasoning. + +"Turning to the anonymous letters," continued Malcolm Sage, "it must +be admitted that the handwriting is very similar; but there all +likeness to Blade's sermons and correspondence ends. Murdy has shown +me nearly all the anonymous letters, and in the whole series there +is not one instance of the colon or the semicolon being used. The +punctuation is of the vaguest, consisting largely of the dash, which +after all is a literary evasion. + +"In these letters the word 'but' frequently appears without any +punctuation mark before it. At other times it has a comma, a dash, +or a full stop." + +He paused and for the next two minutes devoted himself to the game +before him. Then he continued: + +"Such phrases as 'If only you knew,' 'I should have loved to have +been,' 'different than,' which appear in these letters, would have +been absolutely impossible to a man of Blade's meticulous literary +temperament." + +As Malcolm Sage spoke, Robert Freynes's brain had been working +rapidly. Presently he brought his hand down with a smack upon his +knee. + +"By heavens, Sage!" he cried, "this is a new pill for the +handwriting expert. I'll put you in the box. We've got a fighting +chance after all." + +"The most curious factor in the whole case," continued Malcolm Sage, +"is the way in which the letters were delivered. One was thrown into +a fly on to Miss Crayne's lap, she tells us, when she and her father +were driving home after dining at the Hall. Another was discovered +in the vicarage garden. A third was thrown through Miss Crayne's +bedroom window. A few of the earlier group were posted in the +neighbouring town of Whitchurch, some on days that Blade was +certainly not there." + +"That was going to be one of my strongest points," remarked Freynes. + +"The letters always imply that there is some obstacle existing +between the writer and the girl he desires. What possible object +could Blade have in writing letters to various people suggesting an +intrigue between his vicar's daughter and himself; yet these letters +were clearly written by the same hand that addressed those to the +girl, her father and her mother." + +Freynes nodded his head comprehendingly. + +"If Blade were in love with the girl," continued Malcolm Sage, "what +was there to prevent him from pressing his suit along legitimate and +accepted lines. Murdy frankly acknowledges that there has been +nothing in Blade's outward demeanour to suggest that Miss Crayne was +to him anything more than the daughter of his vicar." + +"What do you make of the story of the assault?" + +"As evidence it is worthless," replied Malcolm Sage, "being without +corroboration. The farmhand did not actually see Blade." + +Freynes nodded his agreement. + +"Having convinced myself that Blade had nothing to do with the +writing of the letters, I next tried to discover if there were +anything throwing suspicion on others in the neighbourhood, who were +known to use 'Olympic Script' as note-paper. + +"The schoolmaster, John Gray, was one. He is an admirer of Miss +Crayne, according to local gossip; but it was obvious from the first +that he had nothing to do with the affair. One by one I eliminated +all the others, until I came back once more to Blade. + +"It was clear that the letters were written with a fountain-pen, and +Blade always uses one. That, however, is not evidence, as millions +of people use fountain-pens. By the way, what is your line of +defence?" he enquired. + +"Smashing the handwriting experts," was the reply. "I was calling +four myself, on the principle that God is on the side of the big +battalions; but now I shall depend entirely on your evidence." + +"The assault?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +"There I'm done," said Freynes, "for although Miss Crayne's evidence +is not proof, it will be sufficient for a jury. Besides, she's a +very pretty and charming girl. I suppose," he added, "Blade must +have made some sort of declaration, which she, in the light of the +anonymous letters, entirely misunderstood." + +"What does he say?" + +"Denies it absolutely, although he admits being in the neighbourhood +of the 'Gipsies Wood,' and actually catching sight of Miss Crayne in +the distance; but he says he did not speak to her." + +"Is he going into the witness-box?" + +"Certainly"; then after a pause he added, "Kelton is prosecuting, +and he's as moral as a swan. He'll appeal to the jury as fathers of +daughters, and brothers of sisters." + +Malcolm Sage made no comment; but continued smoking mechanically, +his attention apparently absorbed in the cards before him. + +"If you can smash the handwriting experts," continued the K.C., "I +may be able to manage the girl's testimony." + +"It will not be necessary," said Malcolm Sage, carefully placing a +nine of clubs upon an eight of diamonds. + +"Not necessary?" + +"I have asked Murdy to come round," continued Malcolm Sage, still +intent upon his game. "I think that was his ring." + +A minute later the door opened to admit the burly inspector, more +blue-eyed and genial than ever, and obviously in the best of spirits. + +"Good evening, Mr. Sage," he cried cheerfully. "Congratulations on +the Adair business. Good evening, sir," he added, as he shook hands +with Freynes. + +He dropped heavily into a seat, and taking a cigar from the box on +the table, which Malcolm Sage had indicated with a nod, he proceeded +to light it. No man enjoyed a good cigar more than Inspector Murdy. + +"Well, what do you think of it?" he enquired, looking from Malcolm +Sage to Freynes. "It's a clear case now, I think." He slightly +stressed the word "now." + +"You mean it's Blade?" enquired Malcolm Sage, as he proceeded to +gather up the cards. + +"Who else?" enquired the inspector, through a cloud of smoke. + +"That is the question which involves your being here now, Murdy," +said Malcolm Sage dryly. + +"We've got three handwriting experts behind us," said the inspector +complacently. + +"That is precisely where they should be," retorted Malcolm Sage +quietly. "In the biblical sense," he added. + +Freynes laughed, whilst Inspector Murdy looked from one to the other. +He did not quite catch the allusion. + +"You have done as I suggested?" enquired Malcolm Sage, when he had +placed the cards in their box and removed the card-table. + +"Here are all the letters received up to a fortnight ago," said the +inspector, holding out a bulky packet. "Those received since have +each been sealed up separately by the vicar, who is keeping half of +them, whilst I have the other half; but really, Mr. Sage, I don't +understand----" + +"Thank you, Murdy," said Malcolm Sage, as he took the packet. "It is +always a pleasure to work with Scotland Yard, It is so thorough." + +The inspector beamed; for he knew the compliment was sincere. + +Without a word Malcolm Sage left the room, taking the packet with +him. + +"A bit quaint at times, ain't he, sir?" remarked Inspector Murdy to +Freynes; "but one of the best. I'd trust him with anything." + +Freynes nodded encouragingly. + +"There are some of them down at the Yard that don't like him," he +continued. "They call him 'Sage and Onions'; but most of us who have +worked with him swear by Mr. Sage. He's never out for the limelight +himself, and he's always willing to give another fellow a leg-up. +After all, it's our living," he added, a little inconsequently. + +Freynes appreciated the inspector's delicacy in refraining from any +mention of the Gylston case during Malcolm Sage's absence. After all, +they represented respectively the prosecution and the defence. For +nearly half an hour the two talked together upon unprofessional +subjects. When Malcolm Sage returned, he found them discussing the +prospects of Dempsey against Carpentier. + +Handing back the packet of letters to Inspector Murdy, Malcolm Sage +resumed his seat, and proceeded to re-light his pipe. + +"Spotted the culprit, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector, with +something that was very much like a wink in the direction of Freynes. + +"I think so," was the quiet reply. "You might meet me at Gylston +Vicarage to-morrow at three. I'll telegraph to Blade to be there too. +You had better bring the schoolmaster also." + +"You mean----" began the inspector, rising. + +"Exactly," said Malcolm Sage. "It's past eleven, and we all require +sleep." + + + + +II + + +The next afternoon the study of the vicar of Gylston presented a +strange appearance. + +Seated at Mr. Crayne's writing-table was Malcolm Sage, a small +attaché-case at his side, whilst before him were several piles of +sealed packets. Grouped about the room were Inspector Murdy, Robert +Freynes, Mr. Gray, and the vicar. + +All had their eyes fixed upon Malcolm Sage; but with varying +expressions. Those of the schoolmaster were frankly cynical. The +inspector and Freynes looked as if they expected to see produced +from the attaché-case a guinea-pig or a white rabbit, pink-eyed and +kicking; whilst the vicar had obviously not yet recovered from his +surprise at discovering that the stranger, who had shown such a +remarkable knowledge of monumental brasses and Norman architecture, +was none other than the famous investigator about whom he had read +so much in the newspapers. + +With quiet deliberation Malcolm Sage opened the attaché-case and +produced a spirit lamp, which he lighted. He then placed a metal +plate upon a rest above the flame. On this he imposed a thicker +plate of a similar metal that looked like steel; but it had a handle +across the middle, rather resembling that of a tool used by +plasterers. + +He then glanced up, apparently unconscious of the almost feverish +interest with which his every movement was being watched. + +"I should like Miss Crayne to be present," he said. + +As he spoke the door opened and the curate entered, his dark, +handsome face lined and careworn. It was obvious that he had +suffered. He bowed, and then looked about him, without any +suggestion of embarrassment. + +Malcolm Sage rose and held out his hand; Freynes followed suit. + +"Ask Miss Muriel to come here," said the vicar to the maid as she +was closing the door. + +The curate took the seat that Malcolm Sage indicated beside him. +Silently the six men waited. + +A few minutes later Miss Crayne entered, pale but self-possessed. +She closed the door behind her. Suddenly she caught sight of the +curate. Her eyes widened, and her paleness seemed to become +accentuated. A moment later it was followed by a crimson flush. She +hesitated, her hands clenched at her side, then with a manifest +effort she appeared to control herself and, with a slight smile and +inclination of her head, took the chair the schoolmaster moved +towards her. Instinctively she turned her eyes toward Malcolm Sage. + +"Inspector Murdy," he said, without raising his eyes, "will you +please open two of those packets?" He indicated the pile upon his +left. "I should explain," he continued, "that each of these contains +one of the most recent of the series of letters with which we are +concerned. Each was sealed up by Mr. Crayne immediately it reached +him, in accordance with Inspector Murdy's request. Therefore, only +the writer, the recipient and the vicar have had access to these +letters." + +Malcolm Sage turned his eyes interrogatingly upon Mr. Crayne, who +bowed. + +Meanwhile the inspector had cut open the two top envelopes, unfolded +the sheets of paper they contained, and handed them to Malcolm Sage. + +All eyes were fixed upon his long, shapely fingers as he smoothed +out one of the sheets of paper upon the vicar's blotting-pad. Then, +lifting the steel plate by the handle, he placed it upon the +upturned sheet of paper. + +The tension was almost unendurable. The heavy breathing of Inspector +Murdy seemed like the blowing of a grampus. Mr. Gray glanced across +at him irritably. The vicar coughed slightly, then looked startled +that he had made so much noise. + +Everyone bent forward, eagerly expecting something; yet without +quite knowing what. Malcolm Sage lifted the metal plate from the +letter. There in the centre of the page, in bluish-coloured letters, +which had not been there when the paper was smoothed out upon the +blotting-pad, appeared the words:---- + + Malcolm Sage, + August 12th, 1919. + No. 138. + +For some moments they all gazed at the paper as if the mysterious +blue letters exercised upon them some hypnotic influence. + +"Secret ink!" + +It was Robert Freynes who spoke. Accustomed as he was to dramatic +moments, he was conscious of a strange dryness at the back of his +throat, and a consequent huskiness of voice. + +His remark seemed to break the spell. Instinctively everyone turned +to him. The significance of the bluish-coloured characters was +slowly dawning upon the inspector; but the others still seemed +puzzled to account for their presence. + +Immediately he had lifted the plate from the letter, Malcolm Sage +had drawn a sheet of plain sermon paper from the rack before him. +This he subjected to the same treatment as the letter. When a few +seconds later he exposed it, there in the centre appeared the same +words:---- + + Malcolm Sage, + August 12th, 1919. + +but on this sheet the number was 203. + +Then the true significance of the two sheets of paper seemed to dawn +upon the onlookers. + +Suddenly there was a scream, and Muriel Crayne fell forward on to +the floor. + +"Oh! father, father, forgive me!" she cried, and the next moment she +was beating the floor with her hands in violent hysterics. + + + + +III + + +"From the first I suspected the truth," remarked Malcolm Sage, as he, +Robert Freynes and Inspector Murdy sat smoking in the car that Tims +was taking back to London at its best pace. "Eighty-five years ago a +somewhat similar case occurred in France, that of Marie de Morel, +when an innocent man was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment, and +actually served eight before the truth was discovered." + +The inspector whistled under his breath. + +"This suspicion was strengthened by the lengthy account of the +affair written by Miss Crayne, which Murdy obtained from her. The +punctuation, the phrasing, the inaccurate use of auxiliary verbs, +were identical with that of the anonymous letters. + +"Another point was that the similarity of the handwriting of the +anonymous letters to Blade's became more pronounced as the letters +themselves multiplied. The writer was becoming more expert as an +imitator." + +Freynes nodded his head several times. + +"The difficulty, however, was to prove it," continued Malcolm Sage. +"There was only one way; to substitute secretly marked paper for +that in use at the vicarage. + +"I accordingly went down to Gylston, and the vicar found me keenly +interested in monumental brasses, his pet subject, and Norman +architecture. He invited me to the vicarage. In his absence from his +study I substituted a supply of marked Olympic Script in place of +that in his letter-rack, and also in the drawer of his writing-table. +As a further precaution, I arranged for my fountain-pen to run out +of ink. He kindly supplied me with a bottle, obviously belonging to +his daughter. I replenished my pen, which was full of a chemical +that would enable me, if necessary, to identify any letter in the +writing of which it had been used. When I placed my pen, which is a +self-filler, in the ink, I forced this liquid into the bottle." + +The inspector merely stared. Words had forsaken him for the moment. + +"It was then necessary to wait until the ink in Miss Crayne's pen +had become exhausted, and she had to replenish her supply of paper +from her father's study. After that discovery was inevitable." + +"But suppose she had denied it?" questioned the inspector. + +"There was the ink which she alone used, and which I could +identify," was the reply. + +"Why did you ask Gray to be present?" enquired Freynes. + +"As his name had been associated with the scandal it seemed only +fair," remarked Malcolm Sage, then turning to Inspector Murdy he +said, "I shall leave it to you, Murdy, to see that a proper +confession is obtained. The case has had such publicity that Mr. +Blade's innocence must be made equally public." + +"You may trust me, Mr. Sage," said the inspector. "But why did the +curate refuse to say anything?" + +"Because he is a high-minded and chivalrous gentleman," was the +quiet reply. + +"He knew?" cried Freynes. + +"Obviously," said Malcolm Sage. "It is the only explanation of his +silence. I taxed him with it after the girl had been taken away, and +he acknowledged that his suspicions amounted almost to certainty." + +"Yet he stayed behind," murmured the inspector with the air of a man +who does not understand. "I wonder why?" + +"To minister to the afflicted, Murdy," said Malcolm Sage. "That is +the mission of the Church." + +"I suppose you meant that French case when you referred to the +'master-key,'" remarked the inspector, as if to change the subject. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"But how do you account for Miss Crayne writing such letters about +herself?" enquired the inspector, with a puzzled expression in his +eyes. "Pretty funny letters some of them for a parson's daughter." + +"I'm not a pathologist, Murdy," remarked Malcolm Sage drily, "but +when you try to suppress hysteria in a young girl by sternness, it's +about as effectual as putting ointment on a plague-spot." + +"Sex-repression?" queried Freynes. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders; then after a pause, during +which he lighted the pipe he had just re-filled, he added: + +"When you are next in Great Russell Street, drop in at the British +Museum and look at the bust of Faustina. You will see that her chin +is similar in modelling to that of Miss Crayne. The girl was +apparently very much attracted to Blade, and proceeded to weave what +was no doubt to her a romance, later it became an obsession. It all +goes to show the necessity for pathological consideration of certain +crimes." + +"But who was Faustina?" enquired the inspector, unable to follow the +drift of the conversation. + +"Faustina," remarked Malcolm Sage, "was the domestic fly in the +philosophical ointment of an emperor," and Inspector Murdy laughed; +for, knowing nothing of the marriage or the _Meditations_ of Marcus +Aurelius, it seemed to him the only thing to do. + + + + +CHAPTER XV THE MISSING HEAVYWEIGHT + + + + +I + + +"Mr. Doulton, sir. Very important." Rogers had carefully assimilated +his master's theory of the economy of words, sometimes even to the +point of obscuring his meaning. + +Taking the last piece of toast from the rack, Malcolm Sage with +great deliberation proceeded to butter it. Then, with a nod to the +waiting Rogers, he poured out the last cup of coffee the pot +contained. + +A moment later the door opened to admit a clean-shaven little man of +about fifty, prosperous in build and appearance; but obviously +labouring under some great excitement. His breath came in short, +spasmodic gasps. His thin sandy hair had clearly not been brushed +since the day before, whilst his chin and upper lip bore obvious +traces of a night's growth of beard. He seemed on the point of +collapse. + +"He's gone--disappeared!" he burst out, as Rogers closed the door +behind him. Malcolm Sage rose, motioned his caller to a chair at the +table, and resumed his own seat. + +"Had breakfast?" he enquired quietly, resuming his occupation of +getting the toast carefully and artistically buttered. + +"Good God, man!" exploded Mr. Doulton, almost hysterically. "Don't +you understand? Burns has disappeared!" + +"I gathered as much," said Malcolm Sage calmly, as he reached for +the marmalade. + +"Pond telephoned from Stainton," continued Mr. Doulton. "I was in +Fed. I got dressed, and came round here at once. I----" he stopped +suddenly, as Rogers entered with a fresh relay of coffee. Without a +word he proceeded to pour out a cup for Mr. Doulton, who, after a +moment's hesitation, drank it greedily. + +Rogers glanced interrogatingly from the dish that had contained eggs +and bacon to Malcolm Sage, who nodded. + +When he had withdrawn, Mr. Doulton opened his mouth to speak, then +closed it again and gazed at Malcolm Sage, who, having superimposed +upon the butter a delicate amber film of marmalade, proceeded to cut +up the toast into a series of triangles. Apparently it was the only +thing in life that interested him. + +For weeks past the British and American sporting world had thought +and talked of nothing but the forthcoming fight between Charley +Burns and Bob Jefferson for the heavyweight championship of the +world. The event was due to take place two days hence at the Olympia +for a purse of 40,000 pounds offered by Mr. Montague Doulton, the +prince of impresarios. + +Never had a contest been looked forward to with greater eagerness +than the Burns v. Jefferson match. A great change had come over +public opinion in regard to prize-fighting, thanks to the elevating +influence of Mr. Doulton. It was no longer referred to as +"brutalising" and "debasing." Refined and nice-minded people found +themselves mildly interested and patriotically hopeful that Charley +Burns, the British champion, would win. In two years Mr. Doulton had +achieved what the National Sporting Club had failed to do in a +quarter of a century. + +Long and patiently he had laboured to bring about this match, which +many thought would prove the keystone to the arch of Burns's fame, +incidentally to that of the impresario himself. + +"And now he's disappeared--clean gone." Mr. Doulton almost sobbed. + +"Tell me." + +Malcolm Sage looked up from his plate, the last triangle of toast +poised between finger and thumb. + +In short staccatoed sentences, like bursts from a machine-gun, Mr. +Doulton proceeded to tell his story. + +That morning at six o'clock, when Alf Pond, Burns's trainer, had +entered his room to warn him that it was time to get up, he found it +unoccupied. At first he thought that Burns had gone down before him; +but immediately his eye fell on the bed, and he saw that it had not +been slept in, he became alarmed. + +Going to the bedroom door, he had shouted to the sparring-partners, +and soon the champion's room was filled with men in various stages +of déshabille. + +Only for a moment, however, had they remained inactive. At Alf +Pond's word of command they had spread helter-skelter over the house +and grounds, causing the early morning air to echo with their shouts +for "Charley." + +When at length he became assured that Burns had disappeared, Alf +Pond telephoned first to Mr. Doulton and then to Mr. Papwith, +Burns's backer. + +"I told Pond to do nothing and tell no one," said Mr. Doulton, in +conclusion, "and when I left my rooms my man was trying to get +through to Papwith to ask him to keep the story to himself." + +Malcolm Sage nodded approval. + +"Now, what's to be done?" He looked at Malcolm Sage with the air of +a man who has just told a doctor of his alarming symptoms, and +almost breathlessly awaits the verdict. + +"Breakfast, a shave, then we'll motor down to Stainton," and Malcolm +Sage proceeded to fill his briar, his whole attention absorbed in +the operation. + +A moment later Rogers entered with a fresh supply of eggs and bacon. +Mr. Doulton shook his head. Instinctively his hand had gone up to +his unshaven chin. It was probably the first time in his life that +he had sat at table without shaving. He prided himself upon his +personal appearance. In his younger days he had been known as "Dandy +Doulton." + +"The car in half an hour, Rogers," said Malcolm Sage, as he rose +from the table. "When you've finished," he said, turning to Mr. +Doulton, "Rogers will give you hot water, a razor and anything else +you want. By the time you have shaved I shall be ready." + +"But don't you see----Think what it----" began Mr. Doulton. + +"An empty stomach neither sees nor thinks," was Malcolm Sage's +oracular retort, and he went over to the window and seated himself +at his writing-table. + +For the next half-hour he was engaged with his correspondence, and +in telephoning instructions to his office. + +By the time Mr. Doulton had breakfasted and shaved, the car was at +the door. + +During the run to Stainton both men were silent. Mr. Doulton was +speculating as to what would happen at the Olympia on the following +night if Burns failed to appear, whilst Malcolm Sage was occupied +with thoughts, the object of which was to prevent such a catastrophe. + +"They're sure to say it's a yellow streak," Mr. Doulton burst out on +one occasion; but, as Malcolm Sage took no notice of the remark, he +subsided into silence, and the car hummed its way along the +Portsmouth Road. + +Burns's training-quarters were situated at Stainton, near +Guildford. Here, under the vigilant eye of Alf Pond, and with the +help of a large retinue of sparring-partners, he was getting himself +into what had come to be called "Burns's condition," which meant +that he would enter the ring trained to the minute. Never did +athlete work more conscientiously than Charley Burns. + +As the car turned into a side road, flanked on either hand by elms, +Mr. Doulton tapped on the wind-screen, and Tims pulled up. Malcolm +Sage had requested that the car be stopped a hundred yards before it +reached "The Grove," where the training quarters were situated. + +"Wait for me here," he said, as he got out. + +"It's the first gate on the right," said Mr. Doulton. + +Walking slowly away from the car, Malcolm Sage examined with great +care the road itself. Presently he stopped and, taking from his +pocket a steel spring-measure, he proceeded to measure a portion of +the surface of the dusty roadway. Having made several entries in a +note-book, he then turned back to the car, his eyes still on the +road. + +Instructing Tims to remain where he was, Malcolm Sage motioned to Mr. +Doulton to get out. + +"This way," said Malcolm Sage, leading him to the extreme left-hand +side of the road. Turning into the gates of "The Grove," they walked +up the drive towards the house. In front stood a group of men in +various and nondescript costumes. + +As Malcolm Sage and Mr. Doulton approached, a man in a soiled white +sweater and voluminous grey flannel trousers, generously turned up +at the extremities, detached himself from the group and came towards +them. He was puffy of face, with pouched eyes and a moist skin; yet +in his day Alf Pond had been an unbeatable middle-weight, and the +greatest master of ring-craft of his time; but that was nearly a +generation ago. + +In agonised silence he looked from Mr. Doulton to Malcolm Sage, then +back again to Mr. Doulton. There was in his eyes the misery of +despair. + +The preliminary greetings over, Alf Pond led the way round to a +large coach-house in the rear, which had been fitted up as a +gymnasium. Here were to be seen all the appliances necessary to the +training of a boxer for a great contest, including a roped ring at +one end. + +"He was here only yesterday." There was a world of tragedy and +pathos in Alf Pond's tone. Something like a groan burst from the +sparring-partners. + +With a quick, comprehensive glance, Malcolm Sage seemed to take in +every detail. + +"It's a bad business, Pond," said Mr. Doulton, who found the mute +despair of these hard-living, hard-hitting men rather embarrassing. + +"What'd I better do?" queried Alf Pond. + +"I've put the whole matter in Mr. Sage's hands," said Mr. Doulton. +"He'll find him, if anyone can." + +A score of eyes were turned speculatively upon Malcolm Sage. In none +was there the least ray of hope. All had now made up their minds +that Jefferson would win the fight by default. + +Slowly and methodically Malcolm Sage drew the story of Burns's +disappearance from Alf Pond, the sparring-partners occasionally +acting as a chorus. + +When all had been told, Malcolm Sage gazed for some moments at the +finger-nails of his left hand. + +"You were confident he would win?" he asked at length. + +"Confident!" There was incredulity and wonder in Alf Pond's voice. +Then, with a sudden inspiration, "Look at Kid!" he cried--"look at +him!" and he indicated with a nod a fair-haired giant standing on +his right. + +Malcolm Sage looked. + +The man's face showed the stress and strain of battle. His nose had +taken on something of the quality of cubism, his right eye was out +of commission, and there was an ugly purple patch on his left cheek, +and his right ear looked as if a wasp had stung it. + +"He did that in one round, and him the third. Kid asked for it, and +he got it, same as Jeff would," explained Alf Pond proudly, a +momentary note of elation in his voice. There was also something of +pride in the grin with which Kid stood the scrutiny of the others. + +"Do you know of any reason why Burns should have left his room?" +Malcolm Sage looked from one to the other interrogatingly. + +"There wasn't any," was Alf Pond's response, and the others nodded +their concurrence. + +"He knew no one in the neighbourhood?" + +"No one to speak of. A few local gents would drop in occasional to +see how he was getting on, and then a lot o' newspaper chaps came +down from London." There was that in Alf Pond's tone which seemed to +suggest that in his opinion such questions were foolish. + +"Did he receive any letters or telegrams yesterday?" was the next +question. + +"Letters!" Alf Pond laughed sardonically. "Shoals of 'em. He'd turn +'em all over to Sandy Lane," indicating a red-headed man on the +right. + +"He wasn't much at writing letters," said Sandy Lane, by way of +explanation. + +"His hands were made for better things," cried Alf Pond scornfully, +and the sparring-partners nodded their agreement. + +"Did he turn over to you the _whole_ of his correspondence?" asked +Malcolm Sage, turning to Sandy Lane. + +"Sometimes he'd keep a letter," broke in Alf Pond, "but not often. +Sort of personal," he added, as if to explain the circumstance. + +"From a woman, perhaps?" suggested Malcolm Sage, taking off his hat +and stroking the back of his head. + +"Woman!" cried Alf Pond scornfully; "Charley hadn't no use for women, +or he wouldn't have been the boxer he was." + +"He was quite himself, quite natural, yesterday?" asked Malcolm Sage. + +"Quite himself," repeated Alf Pond deliberately; then, once more +indicating Kid, he added, "Look at Kid; that's what he done in one +round." There was in his tone all the contempt of knowledge for +ignorance. + +Malcolm Sage resumed his hat and, taking his pipe from his pocket, +proceeded to stuff it with tobacco, as if that were the only problem +in the world. On everything he did he seemed to concentrate his +entire attention to the exclusion of all else. + +"No smokin' here, if _you_ please," said Alf Pond sharply. + +Malcolm Sage returned his pipe to his pocket without comment. + +"Now, what are you going to do?" There was challenge in Alf Pond's +voice as he eyed Malcolm Sage with disfavour. In his world men with +bald, conical heads and gold-rimmed spectacles did not count for +much. + +"How many people know of the disappearance?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +ignoring the question. + +"Outside of us here, only Mr. Papwith," was the response. + +For fully a minute Malcolm Sage did not reply. At length he turned +to Mr. Doulton. + +"Can you arrange to remain here to meet Mr. Papwith?" he enquired. + +"I propose doing so," was the reply. + +"You want to find Burns, I suppose?" Malcolm Sage asked of Alf Pond, +in low, level tones. + +Alf Pond and his colleagues eyed him as if he had asked a most +astonishing question. + +"You barmy?" demanded the trainer, putting into words the looks of +the others. + +"You will continue with the day's work as if nothing had happened," +continued Malcolm Sage. "No one outside must know that----" + +"But how the hell are we going to do that with Charley gone?" broke +in Alf Pond, taking a step forward with clenched fists. + +"Your friend here," indicating Kid, "can pose as Burns," was Malcolm +Sage's quiet reply, as he looked into the trainer's eye without the +flicker of an eyelash. + +"You, Mr. Doulton, I will ask to remain here with Mr. Papwith until +I communicate with you. On no account leave the training-quarters, +even if you have to wait here until to-morrow evening." + +"But----" began Alf Pond; then he stopped and gazed at the +sparring-partners, blinking his eyes in stupid bewilderment. + +"Have I your promise?" enquired Malcolm Sage of Mr. Doulton. + +"As far as I am concerned, yes," was the response, "and I think I +can answer for Papwith. It's very inconvenient, though." + +"Not so inconvenient as having to explain things at the Olympia +to-morrow night," remarked Malcolm Sage drily. "Now," he continued, +turning once more to Alf Pond, "I suppose you've all got something +on this fight." + +"Something on it!" cried Alf Pond; then, turning to the +sparring-partners, he cried, "He asks if we've got somethink on it. +My Gawd!" he groaned, "we got our shirts on it. That's what we got +on it, our shirts," and his voice broke in something like a sob. + +"You had better post someone at the gate to tell all enquirers that +Burns is doing well and is confident of winning," said Malcolm Sage +to Mr. Doulton, "and keep an eye on the telephone. Tell anyone who +rings up the same; in fact"--and he turned to the others--"as far as +you are concerned, Burns is still with you. Do you understand?" + +They looked at one another in a way that was little suggestive of +understanding. + +"Did Burns wear the same clothes throughout the day?" asked Malcolm +Sage of the trainer. + +"Course he didn't!" Alf Pond made no effort to disguise the contempt +he felt. "In the daytime he used to wear flannel trousers an' a +sweater, same as me, except when he was sparrin', then he put on +drawers. Always would have everythink same as it was goin' to be, +would Charley--seconds, referee, timekeeper. Said it made him feel +at home when the time came. Quaint he was in some of his ideas." + +"Then from the time he got up until bedtime he wore the same +clothes?" queried Malcolm Sage, without looking up from the +inevitable contemplation of his finger-nails. + +"No he didn't." Alf Pond spat his boredom at these useless questions +into a far corner. "He was always a bit of a nib, was Charley. After +he'd finished the day's work he'd put on a suit o' dark duds, a +white collar, a watch on his wrist, an' all that bunko. Then we'd +play poker or billiards till half-past eight, when we'd all turn +in." The look with which Alf Pond concluded this itinerary plainly +demanded if there were any more damn silly questions coming. + +"Now I should like to see Burns's room." + +Malcolm Sage and Mr. Doulton followed Alf Pond upstairs to a large +room on the first floor, as destitute of the attributes of comfort +as a guardroom. A bed, a wash-hand stand, and a chest of drawers +comprised the furniture. A few articles of clothing were strewn +about, and in one corner lay a pair of dumb-bells. + +The windows were open top and bottom. Malcolm Sage passed from one +to the other and looked out. He examined carefully each of the +window-ledges. + +"Are these the clothes he wore when he got up?" he enquired, +indicating a sweater and a pair of flannel trousers that lay on a +chair. + +Alf Pond nodded. + +Swiftly Malcolm Sage felt in the pockets. There was nothing there. A +minute later he left the room, followed by the others. Descending +the stairs, he passed along the hall and out on to the short drive, +accompanied by Mr. Doulton and Alf Pond. + +Half-way towards the gate Malcolm Sage stopped. + +"You will hear from me some time to-day or to-morrow," he said. "Do +exactly as I have said and, if I don't telephone before to-morrow +evening, go to the Olympia as if Burns were to be there. You might +have sent out to my car a pair of drawers and boots in case I find +him." + +"You're going to find him then?" Alf Pond suddenly gripped Malcolm +Sage's arm with what was almost ferocity. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders. + +"If you do as I tell you, it will help. By the way," he added, "if +you have time, you might put twenty-five pounds on Burns for me. Mr. +Doulton will be responsible for the amount. Now I want to look about +me," and with that Malcolm Sage walked a few steps down the drive, +leaving two men staring after him as if he had either solved or +propounded the riddle of the universe. + +For some minutes he stood in the centre of the drive, looking about +him. Stepping to the right, he glanced back at the house, and then +towards the road. Finally he made for a large clump of rhododendrons +that lay between the road and the house. + +Motioning the others to remain where they were on the gravelled +drive, he walked to a clear space of short grass between the +rhododendrons and the hedge bordering the road. + +Going down upon his knees, he proceeded to examine the ground with +great care and attention. For nearly half an hour he crawled from +place to place, absorbed in grass, shrub, and flower-bed. Finally he +penetrated half into the privet-hedge that bordered the road. + +The sparring-partners had now joined the other two on the drive, and +the group stood watching the strange movements of the man who, in +their opinion, had already shown obvious symptoms of insanity. + +Presently Malcolm Sage emerged from the hedge, in his hand a long +cigar, round the centre of which was a red-and-gold band. For fully +a minute he stood examining this with great care. Then, taking a +letter-case from his pocket, he carefully placed the cigar in the +hinge, returned the case to his pocket, and rejoined the group of +wide-eyed spectators. + +"Found anythink?" enquired Alf Pond eagerly. + +"Several things," replied Malcolm Sage. + +"What?" The men grouped themselves round him, breathless with +interest. + +"By the way," said Malcolm Sage, turning to Alf Pond, "does Burns +happen to smoke long Havana cigars with a red----" + +"Smoke!" yelled Alf Pond in horror. "Him smoke! You blinkin' well +barmy?" he demanded, looking Malcolm Sage up and down as if +meditating an attack upon him. "I'd like to see the man who'd so +much as dare to strike a match here," and he glared about him +angrily, whilst the sparring-partners shuffled their feet and +murmured among themselves. There was just the suspicion of a +fluttering at the corners of Malcolm Sage's mouth. + +"I'm afraid Pond is rather excited just at present," said Mr. +Doulton tactfully. By now he had entirely regained his own composure. +"Burns is a great lover of tobacco, and Pond takes no risks. You +were saying that you had discovered several things?" + +Again the group of men drew closer to Malcolm Sage, their heads +thrust forward as if fearful of missing a word. + +"For one thing, Burns left his room last night to meet a woman +by----" + +"It's a lie!" cried Alf Pond heatedly. "It's a damned lie! I don't +believe it." + +"A rather dainty creature, small and well dressed. She was +accompanied by several men, one of them rather stout, very careful +of his clothes, and an inveterate smoker. The others were bigger, +rougher men. They all came in a car, which arrived after the motor +bicycle, which in turn arrived later than the small car." + +The sparring-partners exchanged glances, whilst Alf Pond stared. + +"Subsequently they drove off in a very great hurry. Incidentally +they took Burns with them; but against his will. On the way down the +girl was in the tonneau; but on the return journey she sat beside +the driver. As Burns was in the tonneau, it was no doubt a +precaution." + +"I don't believe a word," interrupted Alf Pond. "He's makin' it all +up." + +Without appearing to notice the remark, Malcolm Sage turned and +walked towards the gate, Mr. Doulton following a step in the rear. + +"Liar!" growled Alf Pond, as he turned towards the house. "Ruddy +liar!" he added, as if finding consolation in the term. "_He'll_ +never find old Charley." + +"Tell me, Sage, were you serious?" asked Mr. Doulton, as they +reached the gate. + +"Entirely." + +"I'm afraid poor Pond thought you were making game of us," he added +apologetically. "Do you mind explaining how you arrived at your +conclusions?" + +"Behind that clump of rhododendrons," began Malcolm Sage, "there is +written a whole history. The marks of boots, or shoes, with very +high heels suggests a woman, the size and daintiness of the footwear +tell the rest. As Burns appeared, she stepped towards him. Her very +short steps indicate both fashionable clothes and smallness of +stature." + +"And the man who was careful about his clothes?" + +"He stood behind a holly-bush with an umbrella----" + +"But how did you know?" + +"He had been leaning upon it, and there was the mark where it had +sunk into the soft turf up to the point where the silk joins the +stick. A man who carries an umbrella on a kidnapping adventure must +be habitually in fear of rain--none but a well-dressed man would +fear rain. + +"Then, as he had a cigar in his hand with the end bitten off, it +shows the habitual smoker. He was only waiting for the end of the +drama before lighting up. His height I get from his stride, and his +size by the fact that, like Humpty-Dumpty, he had a great fall. I'll +tell you the rest later. I'm afraid it's an ugly business." + +"But the girl riding beside the driver?" burst out Mr. Doulton, +bewildered by the facts that Malcolm Sage had deduced from so little. + +"At the edge of a side-road there is invariably a deposit of dust, +and the marks where they all got out and in are clearly visible. The +hurry of departure is shown by the fact that the car started before +one of the men had taken his place, and his footsteps running beside +it before jumping on to the running-board are quite clear. I'll ring +you up later. I cannot stay now." And with that he hurried away. + +"Back along your own tracks, Tims," said he on reaching the car. He +then walked on to the main road. + +With head over right shoulder, Tims carefully backed the car, +Malcolm Sage signalling that he was to turn to the right. + +Instructing Tims to drive slowly, Malcolm Sage took his seat beside +him, keeping his eyes fixed upon the off-side of the road. He +stopped the car at each cross-road, and walked down it some twenty +or thirty yards, his eyes bent downwards as if in search of +something. At the end of half an hour he instructed Tims to drive +back to London at his best speed. + + + + +II + + +That afternoon in his office Malcolm Sage worked without cessation. +Both telephones, incoming and outgoing, were continually in use. +Telegraph girls and messenger boys came and went. + +Gladys Norman had ceased to worry about the shininess of her nose, +and William Johnson was in process of readjusting his ideas as to +lack of the dramatic element at the Malcolm Sage Bureau as compared +with detective fiction and the films. + +About three o'clock a tall, clean-shaven man was shown into Malcolm +Sage's room. He had a hard mouth, keen, alert eyes, and an air +suggestive of the fact that he knew the worst there was to be known +about men and acted accordingly. + +With a nod Malcolm Sage motioned him to a seat. Six months before he +had saved Dick Lindler from the dock by discovering the real +criminal in whose stead Lindler was about to be charged with a +series of frauds. Since then Malcolm Sage had always been sure of +such "inside" information in the bookmaking world as he required. + +"How's the betting now?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"Nine to two on Jefferson offered; and no takers," was the reply. +"There's something up, Mr. Sage; I'll take my dying oath on it," he +said, leaning across the table and dropping his voice. + +"Any big amounts?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"No, that's what troubles me. The money's being spread about so. The +funny thing is that a lot of it is being put on by letter. I've had +a dozen myself to-day." + +Malcolm Sage nodded slowly as he filled his pipe, which with great +deliberation he proceeded to light until the whole surface of the +tobacco glowed. Then, as if suddenly realising that Lindler was not +smoking, he pulled open a drawer, drew out a cigar-box, and pushed +it across, watching him closely from beneath his eyebrows as he did +so. + +Lindler opened the box, then looked interrogatingly at Malcolm Sage. + +"Didn't know you smoked the same poison-sticks as the 'Downy One,'" +he said, picking up a long cigar with a red and gold band, and +examining it. + +"Who's he?" + +"Old Nathan Goldschmidt, the stinking Jew." + +"I'm sorry," said Malcolm Sage; "that should not have been there. +Try one of the others." + +Lindler looked across at him curiously. + +"Personally, myself," he said, "I believe he's at the bottom of all +this heavy backing of Jefferson." + +Malcolm Sage continued to smoke as if the matter did not interest +him, whilst Lindler bit off the end of the cigar he had selected and +proceeded to light it. + +"Several of his crowd have been around this morning trying to load +me up," he continued presently, when the cigar was drawing to his +satisfaction. "Must have stayed up all night to be in time," he +added scathingly. + +"Have you seen Goldschmidt himself?" + +"Not since yesterday afternoon." + +"Does he usually carry an umbrella?" + +Lindler laughed. + +"The boys call him 'Gampy Goldschmidt,'" he said. + +"You really think that the Goldschmidt gang is Backing Jefferson?" + +"They've been at it for the last week," was the response. "They +_know_ something, Mr. Sage. Somebody's going to do the dirty, +otherwise they wouldn't be so blasted clever about it?" + +"Clever?" + +"Putting on all they can on the Q.T.," was the response. + +"Find out all you can about Goldschmidt and his friends. Keep in +touch with me here if you learn anything. Incidentally, keep on the +water-wagon until after the fight." + +"Right-o!" said Lindler, rising; "but I wish you'd tell me----" + +"I have told you," said Malcolm Sage, and with that he took the +proffered hand and, a moment later, Dick Lindler passed through the +outer door. As he did so, he almost collided with Thompson, who +had just jumped out of Malcolm Sage's car and was dashing towards +the door. Thompson rushed across the outer-office, through the +glass-panelled door, and passed swiftly into Malcolm Sage's room. + +"It's the car right enough, Chief," he said, making an effort to +control his excitement. "I picked it up outside Jimmy Dilk's. There +were three men in it." + +Malcolm Sage nodded, then, opening a drawer, produced a sealed +packet. + +"If I'm not back here by half-past four," he said, "ring up +Inspector Wensdale, and ask him to come round at once with a couple +of men and wait in the outer office. Give him this packet. There's a +letter inside. If he's not there, get anyone else you know." + +Thompson stared. In spite of long association with Malcolm Sage, +there were still times when he failed to follow his chief's line of +reasoning. + +"If I telephone or write cancelling these instructions, ignore +anything I say. Do you understand?" + +"I understand, Chief," said Thompson. + +Malcolm Sage picked up his hat and stick and left the room. + +Tims, who had been waiting at the outer door, sprang to his seat and, +almost before the door of the car had closed, it jerked forward and +was soon threading its sinuous way towards Coventry Street. + +Five minutes later Malcolm Sage pressed a bell-push on the fifth +floor of a large block of flats known as Coventry Mansions. The door +was opened by a heavily-built, ill-favoured man. In response to +Malcolm Sage's request to see Mr. Goldschmidt, he was told that he +couldn't. + +"Tell him," said Malcolm Sage, fixing his steel-grey eyes upon the +man in a steady gaze, "that Mr. Malcolm Sage wishes to see him about +something that happened last night, and about something more that is +to happen to-morrow night. He'll understand." + +A sudden look of apprehension in the man's eyes seemed to suggest +that he at least understood. He hesitated for a moment, then, with a +gruff "Wait there," shut the door in Malcolm Sage's face. Three +minutes later he opened it again and, inviting him to enter, led the +way along a passage, at the end of which was a door, which the man +threw open. + +Malcolm Sage found himself in a darkened room, from which the light +was excluded by heavy curtains. For a moment he looked about him, +unable to distinguish any object. When his eyes became accustomed to +the gloom, he saw seated in an armchair a man with a handkerchief +held to his face. + +"Mr. Goldschmidt?" he interrogated, as he seated himself in the +centre of the room. + +"Well, what is it?" was the thickly spoken retort. + +"I came to ask your views on the fight to-morrow night, and to +enquire if you think the odds of nine to two on Jefferson are +justified." + +There was an exclamation from the arm-chair. + +"If you've got anything to say," said the thick voice angrily, "get +it off your chest and go--to hell," he added, as an afterthought. +"What do you want?" the voice demanded, as Malcolm Sage remained +silent. + +"I want you to take a little run with me in my car," said Malcolm +Sage evenly. "Fresh air will do your nose good." + +"What the----" the man broke off, apparently choked with passion, +then, recovering himself, added, "Here, cough it up, or else I'll +have you thrown out into the street! What is it?" + +"I want either you, or one of your friends, to come with me to where +Charley Burns has been taken." + +There was a stifled exclamation from the chair, then a howl of agony +as the hand holding the handkerchief dropped. At the same moment +three men burst into the room. Malcolm Sage's back was to the door. +He did not even turn to look at them. + +Somebody switched on the light, and Malcolm Sage saw before him the +puffy face of a man of about sixty, in the centre of which was a +hideous purple splotch that had once been a nose. A moment later the +handkerchief obscured the unsavoury sight. + +"What the hell's all this about?" shouted one of the men, advancing +into the room, the others remaining by the door. + +Slowly Malcolm Sage turned and regarded the three men, whose +appearance proclaimed their pugilistic calling. + +"I was just asking Mr. Goldschmidt to be so good as to accompany me +to where Charley Burns is----" + +He was interrupted by exclamations from all three men. + +"What the hell do you mean?" demanded he who had spoken, a dark, +ill-favoured fellow with a brow like a rainy sky. + +"I will tell you," said Malcolm Sage. "Last night Mr. Goldschmidt, +accompanied by certain friends, went to Burns's training-quarters to +keep an appointment made in the name of a girl friend of Burns. He +came out quite unsuspectingly, was overpowered, and subsequently +taken in Mr. Goldschmidt's car to a place with which I am +unacquainted, so that he shall not appear at the Olympia to-morrow +night." + +He drew his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to fill it. His air +was that of a chess player who knows that he can mate his opponent +in two moves. + +"It's a damned lie!" roared one of the men, whilst Goldschmidt +shrieked something that was unintelligible. + +"You drove out by way of Putney Hill, Esher, and Clandon Cross Roads. +You backed the car to within two hundred yards of 'The Grove,' where +you all got out with the exception of the driver. You then entered +'The Grove,' taking cover behind a large clump of rhododendrons." + +"It's a damned lie," choked Goldschmidt. + +"By the way," continued Malcolm Sage, "your fair friend drove out in +the tonneau; but returned seated beside the driver, and one of you +was nearly left behind and entered the car after it had started." + +The men looked at one another in bewilderment. + +"You, Goldschmidt, carried an umbrella," continued Malcolm Sage, +"and took cover behind the holly bush; but you came out a little too +soon, hence that nose. Burns was playing possum. You were rather +anxious for a smoke too. I am a smoker myself." + +A stream of profanity burst from Goldschmidt's lips. + +"You see I am in a position to prove my points," said Malcolm Sage +calmly. + +"Oh! you are, are you?" sneered the spokesman, as he moved a little +closer to Malcolm Sage, "and I am in the position to prove that +we're four to one." + +"Three to one," corrected Malcolm Sage quietly. "Your friend," +indicating Goldschmidt, with a nod, "is scarcely----" + +He was interrupted by a stifled oath from the armchair. + +"Good old Nigger!" murmured one of the men by the door. + +"Well, and what about it?" demanded Nigger. + +"If Burns is delivered over to me within two hours, unharmed and in +fighting trim, and a cheque for 1,000 pounds is paid to St. +Timothy's Hospital by noon to-morrow, there will be no prosecution, +and I will not divulge your names. If not, during the next +twenty-four hours, London will probably have its first experience of +lynch-law." + +With that Malcolm Sage struck a match and proceeded to light his +pipe. + +"That all?" sneered the man. "Ain't there nothink else you'd like?" + +"I cannot recall anything else at the moment," said Malcolm Sage +imperturbably, as he looked across at the fellow over the top of the +burning match. + +"You dirty nark," burst out the man by the door, who had hitherto +remained silent. "A pretty sort of stool-pigeon you are." + +"Spyin' on us, wasn't you?" demanded Nigger, edging nearer to +Malcolm Sage. + +"It's ten minutes past four," remarked Malcolm Sage coolly, as he +glanced at his wrist-watch. + +"Oh, it is, is it?" was the retort, "and in another hour it'll be +ten minutes past five." + +"I have to be back at my office by half-past four." Malcolm Sage +looked about for some receptacle in which to throw the spent match. + +"You don't say so." Again Nigger edged a little nearer; but Malcolm +Sage appeared not to notice it. + +"Well, I may as well tell you that you don't leave here until eleven +o'clock to-morrow night, see?" + +There were murmurs of approval from the others. + +"Then, perhaps, you will send out and buy me a tooth-brush," was +Malcolm Sage's quiet rejoinder. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI THE GREAT FIGHT AT THE OLYMPIA + + + +I + + +Never had the Olympia seen such a crowd as was gathered to watch the +fight between Charley Burns of England and Joe Jefferson of America, +Never in its career of hybrid ugliness had it witnessed such +excitement. + +For thirty-six hours the wildest rumours had been current. Charley +Burns had broken down, run away, committed suicide, and refused to +fight. He had broken a leg, an arm, a finger, and had torn more +tendons than he possessed. He had sprained ankles, wrung withers, +been overtrained, had contracted every known disease in addition to +manifesting a yellow streak. + +The atmosphere was electrical. The spectators whispered among +themselves, exchanging views and rumours. The most fantastical +stories were related, credited, and debated with gravity and concern. + +If some ill-advised optimist ventured to question a particularly +lugubrious statement, he was challenged to explain the betting, +which had crept up to six to one on Jefferson offered, with no +takers. + +The arrival of the Prince of Wales gave a welcome vent for pent-up +excitement. Accustomed as he was to enthusiastic acclamation, the +Prince seemed a little embarrassed by the warmth and intensity of +his greeting. + +The preliminary bouts ran their course, of interest only to those +immediately concerned, who were more truly alone in the midst of +that vast concourse than some anchorite in the desert of Sahara. + +The heat was unbearable, the atmosphere suffocating. Men smoked +their cigars and cigarettes jerkily, now indulging in a series of +staccatoed puffs, now ignoring them until they went out. + +Slowly the time crept on as by the bedside of death. If those +ridiculously bobbing figures in the ring would only cease their +caperings! + +"Break! Break!" The voice of the referee suddenly split through a +"pocket" of silence. Everyone seemed startled, then the curtain of +sound once more descended and wrapped the assembly in its +impenetrable folds. The gong sounded the beginning and the end of +each round, and so it went on. + +Mr. Papwith sat in the front row near the Prince. Smiling, smiling, +for ever smiling. He was a dapper little man, with a fiery, +clean-shaven face, and a fringe of grizzled hair above his ears that +gave the lie to the auburn silkiness with which his head was crowned. +Next to him was Mr. Doulton, who chatted and smiled, smiled and +chatted; but his eyes moved restlessly over the basin of faces, as +if in search of an answer to some unuttered question. + +At length the preliminary bouts were ended. As the combatants had +arrived unheralded, so they departed unsung. Although no one +appeared to be watching, a sudden hush fell over the assembly. The +dramatic moment had arrived. A few minutes would see the rumours +confirmed or disproved. Men, seasoned spectators of a hundred fights, +found the tension almost unbearable. + +The M.C. climbed through the ropes and looked fussily about him. He +appealed to the spectators for silence during the actual rounds and +for the discontinuance of smoking. A black cardboard box, sealed as +if it contained duelling-pistols instead of gloves, was thrust into +the ring. Men took a last fond draw at their cigars and cigarettes +before mechanically extinguishing them. + +All eyes were directed towards the spot where the combatants would +appear. + +The referee turned expectantly in the same direction. A group of men +in flannels and sweaters was seen moving towards the ring. Among +them was a sleek, dark-haired man in a long dressing-gown of bottle +green. It was Joe Jefferson. + +Suddenly a great roar burst out, echoing and reechoing continuously +as the group approached the ring and Jefferson climbed through the +ropes. + +Then came another hush. A second group of men was observed +approaching the ring. There was a shout as those nearest recognised +Alf Pond among them. It developed into a roar, then died away as if +strangled, giving place to a hum of suppressed inquiry. Everyone was +either asking, or looking, the same question. + +"Where is Burns?" + +Alf Pond and his associates moved to the ringside as if bound for a +funeral. + +Their gloom seemed suddenly to pervade the whole vast concourse. Men +talked to one another mechanically, their eyes fixed upon the group. + +There was a strange hush. The men reached the ringside and stood +looking at one another. The audience looked at them. What had +happened? + +None seemed to notice three men moving down the opposite gangway +towards the ring. The man in the centre was muffled in a heavy +overcoat that reached to his heels, a soft felt hat was pulled down +over his eyes. One or two spectators in their immediate +neighbourhood gave them a hasty, curious glance. + +Suddenly Alf Pond gave a wild whoop and, breaking away from his +fellows, dashed towards the three strangers. In a moment the +overcoat and muffler were thrown aside and the hat knocked off, +revealing the fair-haired and smiling Charley Burns. + +Gripping Burns's hand, Alf Pond broke down. Tears streamed down his +battle-seared features, and he sobbed with the choking agony of a +strong man. + +Then suddenly everything became enveloped in a dense volume of sound. +Men and women stood on their chairs and waved frantically, madly, +anything they could clutch hold of to wave. The whole Olympia +appeared to have gone mad. Noble peers, grave judges, sedate +generals and austere philosophers acted as if suddenly bereft of the +restaining influences of civilisation and decorum. + +Hugged and fondled by his seconds, Burns reached the ring and +climbed into it. The black cardboard box was opened, the men's hands +bandaged, the gloves donned. Still the pandemonium raged, now dying +down, now bursting out again with increased volume. + +Jefferson and Burns shook hands. The referee stood in the middle of +the ring and, with arms extended aloft, appeared to be imploring the +blessing of heaven. The crowd, however, understood, and the great +uproar died down to a hum of sound. + +Then for the first time it was noticed that, in place of the +habitual smile that had made Burns the idol he was, there was a grim +set about his jaw that caused those nearest to the ring to wonder +and to speculate. + +Charley Burns's "battle-smile" had become almost a tradition. + +"If he'd only fight more and box less," Alf Pond would say +complainingly, "he'd beat the whole blinkin' world with one hand." + +Suddenly a hush fell upon the assembly, a hush as pronounced as had +been the previous pandemonium. The referee took a final look round. +Behind Burns, Alf Pond could be seen sponging his face over a small +bucket. He was once more himself. There were things to be done. + +Almost before anyone realised it the gong sounded; the fight had +begun. + +"God!" + +The exclamation broke involuntarily from Alf Pond, as he dropped the +sponge and gazed before him with wide-staring eyes. + +"He's fighting," he cried, almost dancing with excitement. "Did ever +you see the like, Sandy?" But Sandy's eyes were glued upon the ring. +His hands and feet moved convulsively--he was a fighter himself. + +Discarding his traditional opening of boxing with swift defensive +watchfulness, Charley Burns had darted at his man. Before anyone +knew what was happening his left crashed between Jefferson's eyes, a +blow that caused him to reel back almost to the ropes. + +Before he could recover, a right hook had sent him staggering +against the ropes themselves. For a second it looked as if he would +collapse over them. Pulling himself together, however, he strove to +clinch; but Burns was too quick for him. Stepping back swiftly, he +feinted with his left, and Jefferson, expecting a repetition of the +first blow, raised his guard. A white right arm shot out to the mark, +and Jefferson went down with a crash. + +The timekeeper's voice began to drone the monotonous count; at eight +Jefferson gathered himself together; at nine he was on his feet. + +Once more Burns was upon him, and Jefferson saved himself by +clinching. It was clear that he was badly shaken. + +Three times during the first round Burns floored his man. The +onlookers were mad with excitement. + +Back in his own corner, Charley Burns was sitting, a hard set look +in his eyes, his jaw square and firm. + +Alf Pond fussed about him like a hen over a chick. + +"Shut up, Alf! I know what I'm doing," said Burns sharply. + +"He knows what he's doing," repeated Alf Pond ecstatically. "Hear +that, Sandy? He knows what he's doing, and so does Jeff, I'll lay a +pony to a pink pill," he added. + +Once more the gong sounded; once more Burns sprang up and darted at +his man. Jefferson tried first to dodge and then to clinch; but +without avail. He was unnerved. His strategy and tactics had been +planned in view of Burns's usual methods; but here was an entirely +different man to deal with--a great fighter. + +Twice more Jefferson went down, taking a count of nine on each +occasion. He seemed to share with the spectators the knowledge that +there would be no third round. + +On rising the second time he seemed determined to change his tactics. +He rushed forward, fighting gamely, apparently in the hope of +getting a lucky knock-out blow. Without giving an inch, Burns threw +off the blows and, feinting with his left, crashed his right full on +the point of his opponent's jaw. + +Jefferson's hands fell, and for a second he stood gazing stupidly +before him; then his knees sagged and, with a deliberation that +seemed almost intolerable, he crashed forward on his face, one arm +outstretched as if in protest. + +Again the timekeeper's voice was heard monotonously counting. Burns +turned to his corner without waiting for the conclusion of the count. +He knew the strength behind that blow. + + + + +II + + +Later that night, just as Big Ben was taking breath preparatory to +his supreme effort, Malcolm Sage was seated in his big arm-chair +smoking a final pipe before bed, and turning over in his mind the +happenings of the day and the probable events of the morrow. + +His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a hammering at the +outer door of his chambers, followed by the sound of loud and +hilarious voices as Rogers answered the summons. + +A moment later the door of the sitting-room burst open, and there +flowed into the room Charley Burns and his entourage, all obviously +in the best of spirits. In the background stood Rogers, with +expressionless face, looking towards his master. + +Malcolm Sage rose and shook hands with Burns, Mr. Doulton and Mr. +Papwith, Alf Pond and his assistants. + +"Sorry, Mr. Sage," cried Burns, with a laugh; "but the boys wouldn't +wait, although I told them calling time was four till six," and he +laughed again, the laugh of a man who has not a care in the world. +He also gripped Malcolm Sage's hand with a heartiness that made him +wince. The others in turn shook hands in a way that caused Malcolm +Sage to wonder why America had not long since ceased to be a +Republic. + +The men dropped into chairs in various parts of the room, and Rogers, +who had disappeared at a signal from Malcolm Sage, now returned with +a tray of glasses, syphons, and decanters. Soon the whole company +was drinking the health of Malcolm Sage with an earnestness which +convinced him that on the morrow there would be trouble with Colonel +Sappinger, who lived above and cherished Carlyle's hatred of sound. + +"And now, Mr. Sage," said Alf Pond, "we want to know how you found +Charley. He won't tell us anythink. Wonderful, I call it," he added, +and there was a murmur of assent from the others, as they proceeded +to light the cigars that Rogers handed round. + +"It was not very difficult," said Malcolm Sage, stuffing tobacco +into his pipe from a terra-cotta jar beside him. As he applied a +light to the bowl the others exchanged glances. + +"From the first," he continued, "it was obvious that some message, +or letter, had been conveyed to our friend Burns." He gazed across +at the champion, who looked uncomfortable. + +"As he had not mentioned the fact to any of his friends," continued +Malcolm Sage, a little slyly, "it seemed obvious to assume that +there was a lady in the case." + +Alf Pond looked reproachfully at Burns, who reddened beneath the +united gaze of seven pairs of eyes. + +"That the appointment had been for the evening," proceeded Malcolm +Sage, "was obvious from the fact that Burns disappeared in the blue +suit he always changed into after the day's work." + +Alf Pond looked across at Mr. Doulton, nodding his approval of the +reasoning. + +"It was Kitty, or I thought it was," burst out Burns. "She said +something terrible had happened and that she must see me," he added. + +Kitty Graham was shortly to become Mrs. Charley Burns, but during +the period of training she had been rigorously excluded from all +intercourse with her fiancé by order of the autocratic Alf Pond. + +"The meeting was arranged for the further side of the large clump of +rhododendrons, which acted as a screen," continued Malcolm Sage. +"When Burns arrived there, he saw a girl standing a little distance +away. Before he could reach her, however, he was seized and a +chloroformed pad held over his mouth. The suddenness of the attack +dazed him; he did not struggle, but held his breath; he----" + +"How the blazes did you know that, Mr. Sage?" burst out Burns. + +"You are always a quick-thinker in the ring," said Malcolm Sage, +"and you were a quick-thinker then. You smelt chloroform, held your +breath and thought. It was a sort of instinctive ring-craft." + +"But you----" began Burns. + +"There were no marks of a struggle where you were seized. You +probably realised that your only chance lay in letting the enemy +think you were losing consciousness?" + +Burns nodded. + +"Seeing that there was no sign of trouble," continued Malcolm Sage, +"the principal in this little affair stepped out from where he had +been taking cover just at the moment when Burns broke loose and let +out. Movement has always a primary attraction for the eye, and Burns +got this man full on the nose and ruined it. He also sent him clean +into the privet-hedge, where he collapsed." + +"Who was it?" demanded Alf Pond fiercely. + +"There were, however, too many of them for Burns," continued Malcolm +Sage, ignoring the question. "They had planned the attack very +carefully, each clinging to a limb. Soon they had him unconscious +and bound in the car. Then they turned their attention to their +leader." + +"Yes; but how did you find Burns?" asked Mr. Doulton eagerly. + +"I didn't," said Malcolm Sage. "They showed me where he was." + +"But----" began Mr. Papwith, whose shiny cleanshaven face, normally +suggestive of a Turner sunset, now looked like a conflagration. + +"After half an hour's fruitless effort to track the car down +side-roads, I returned to London as fast as my man could take me," +proceeded Malcolm Sage, "and I immediately set enquiries on foot as +to the betting on the Stock Exchange, at Tattersall's, the National +Sporting Club, and other places. By three o'clock that afternoon I +knew pretty well who it was that had been laying heavily against +Burns. That simplified matters." + +Alf Pond and Burns exchanged admiring glances. + +"As you know, for more than a week previously the betting had made +it clear that heavy sums were being laid on Jefferson. In the course +of ten days it had veered round from 5 to 4 on Burns to 9 to 2 +against. As there were no rumours detrimental to his condition or +state of health, this could only mean that a lot of money was being +put on Jefferson. I found out the names of the principal layers and +the amounts. I discovered that all were extremely active with the +exception of one. That I decided was the man with the umbrella." + +"Who's he?" demanded Sandy, whose mouth had not ceased to gape since +Malcolm Sage began his story. + +"The man Burns knocked out. He had been leaning rather heavily on +the handle whilst taking cover behind a holly-bush, and the metal +cap at base of the silk was clearly marked on the ground. He was +also holding an unlit cigar in his hand, which he left in the hedge. +By great good chance this was recognised by someone I happen to know +as a brand smoked by a certain backer of Jefferson." + +"Well, I'm damned!" broke in Alf Pond, with intense earnestness. + +"So you see, I had quite a lot to help me. I was searching for a +well-dressed man----" + +"But how did you know he was well-dressed?" queried Mr. Doulton. + +"His footprints showed that he wore boots of a fashionable model," +explained Malcolm Sage. "He also carried an umbrella, even on an +occasion such as this. + +"I had to look for a well-dressed man who always carried an umbrella, +and who smoked large and expensive cigars and, most important of all, +whose nose had been smashed out of all recognition." + +"But how could you tell I got him on the nose?" demanded Burns, +leaning forward eagerly. + +"There was quite a pool of blood beneath the hedge," explained +Malcolm Sage. "He was probably there for some minutes while his +friends were making sure of you, Burns. Blood would not have flowed +so generously as a result of a blow from the fist except from the +nose." + +"You're a knock-out, that's what you are, Mr. Sage," said Alf Pond, +with admiring conviction. "_I'd_ never have thought of it all," he +added, with the air of one desiring to be absolutely fair. + +"Finally," continued Malcolm Sage, "there was the car. It was a +large car, a defect in one of the tyres enabled me to determine +that by a steel rule. It was obviously heavily laden and the near +back-wheel was out of track. This fact, of course, was of no help on +the high-road, where other cars would blot out the track; but if I +could show that someone who had been heavily backing Jefferson had +a nose badly damaged, and a car with a near back-wheel out of track +in just the same way that this particular wheel was out of track, +and that its tyres were the same as those of the car that drew up +outside Burns's training-quarters, then I should have a wealth of +circumstantial evidence that it would be almost impossible to +confute. + +"From a friend at Scotland Yard I obtained the number of the car +belonging to the man whom this evidence involved. + +"As Stainton is off the Portsmouth Road, I telephoned to the +Automobile Association patrols at Putney Hill, Esher, and Clandon +Cross Roads. I was told that on the previous evening this +particular car was seen going in the direction of Guildford. These +patrols take the numbers of all cars that pass. As it had not passed +Liss, where the next patrol is stationed, it was another link in the +chain." + +"Well, I'm blowed!" The exclamation broke involuntarily from Kid. + +"As the patrols go off duty at dusk, I could get no further help +from them," continued Malcolm Sage. "I sent a man to watch +Jefferson's training-quarters, although I was fairly certain that he +and his party were in no way involved." + +Malcolm Sage went on to narrate his call upon Nathan Goldschmidt, +carefully omitting any mention of the name or address. His hearers +listened with breathless interest. + +"I concluded that they had taken their prisoner to some lonely, +empty house," he explained, "but there was not time to search all +the empty houses in the home counties, so the man with the damaged +nose had to come with me in my car, and his friends followed in +his." + +"But how did you manage it?" gasped Mr. Papwith. + +"At first they showed fight," said Malcolm Sage, "and threatened to +keep me prisoner until after the fight." + +"Gee!" exclaimed Kid. + +"I anticipated some such move, and had instructed my people that +unless I were back by half-past four, they were to deliver certain +packets to the editors of well-known London papers. In these packets +was told the story as far as I had been able to trace it. This I +informed them." + +"What did they say to that?" asked Mr. Doulton. + +"They insisted that I telephone countermanding my orders; but as I +explained that I had told my man Thompson he was to disregard any +telephone message, or written instructions, he might receive from me, +they realised that the game was up. I also informed them that +Inspector Wensdale and two of his men were waiting at my office in +anticipation of a possible hold-up." + +"Well, I'm blessed," exclaimed Alf Pond. "If you ain't it." + +"I pointed out," continued Malcolm Sage, "that whereas by producing +Burns they would have a fight for their money, if the truth became +known not only would their bets most likely be forfeited, but they +would probably have to go to law to recover their stake-money. I +further pledged Mr. Doulton, Mr. Papwith, and Burns not to take any +legal action. I rather suspect that in this I was technically +conspiring to defeat the ends of justice." + +"But weren't you afraid they'd do a double cross?" asked Burns. + +"They heard me instruct one of my assistants that unless I were back +by nine o'clock that evening, the notes I had written and addressed +were to be delivered. _Incidentally the inspector was present, +unofficially of course._" + +"You oughter been in the ring with a head like that," said Alf Pond +sorrowfully. + +"We found Burns fairly comfortable in the wine-cellar of an empty +house near Ripley. They had left him food and water and beer. In all +probability on awakening to-morrow morning, had we not found him, he +would have discovered the door unlocked and himself no longer a +prisoner." Malcolm Sage paused with the air of one who has told his +story. + +"But why did you keep Papwith and me at Stainton until late this +afternoon?" enquired Mr. Doulton. + +"In the first instance, to be in charge and to see that Burns's +disappearance was kept secret. It was obvious that every endeavour +would be made to put a lot of money on Jefferson before the fact +became known. This would lead to rumour, and later to enquiry. +Subsequently I decided that you were both better out of London, as +you would have been interviewed and bound to give something away, in +spite of the utmost caution." + +"And now, Mr. Sage," said Mr. Doulton, "who are the scroundrels?" + +"I have promised not to give their names," was the quiet reply. + +"Not give their names?" cried several of his hearers in unison. + +Malcolm Sage then proceeded to explain that unless the gang had seen +a loop-hole of escape they would not have thrown up the sponge. Had +exposure been inevitable in any case, they would have brazened it +out, knowing that, whatever happened to themselves, Burns could not +appear at the Olympia. The knowledge that their identity would not +be divulged tempted them to risk the loss of their money. "Apart from +this," he added, "the details I was able to give seemed to convince +them that they had either been watched or given away." + +"You must remember that they have lost enormous sums of money," +Malcolm Sage went on, "and there will be another 1,000 pounds for St. +Timothy's Hospital. It was further understood that, if I could +discover anyone of them had inspired a covering bet, I was released +from my promise. This is why the odds got to six to one. +Incidentally they ensured the defeat of their man. When Burns +entered the ring tonight, it was to fight, not to box." + +"That's true," said Alf Pond, nodding his head and reaching for +another cigar. "He never fought like it before in all his puff." + +"And where were you last night?" enquired Mr. Papwith of Burns. + +"In my bed," said Malcolm Sage, "and my friend Inspector Wensdale of +Scotland Yard and I slept here. Burns has never been out of +Wensdale's sight until we handed him over this evening." + +"I've been having police protection," laughed Burns. + +"Still, you didn't oughter have gone two days without doing +anythink," said Alf Pond. + +"Oh! I had a bit of sparring with Mr. Sage," said Burns, "in spite +of the glasses. If you want to see some pretty foot-work, Alf, you +get him to put the gloves on." + +"I knew it," cried Alf Pond, with conviction; then, turning to the +others, "Didn't I say he oughter been in the ring?" + +And Malcolm Sage found relief from the admiring eyes of his guests +in gazing down at the well-bitten mouthpiece of his briar. + +"But why did you let me think that Jefferson and his crowd were in +it?" enquired Burns, with corrugated brow. + +"Well," said Malcolm Sage slowly, "as I had put twenty-five pounds +on you to steady Pond's nerves, I didn't want to lose it." + +And Alf Pond winked gleefully across at Mr. Doulton. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII LADY DENE CALLS ON MALCOLM SAGE + + +"Lady Dene wishes to see you, Miss." + +"Sure the Archbishop of Canterbury isn't with her, Johnnie dear?" +asked Gladys Norman sweetly, without looking up from the cleaning +of her typewriter. In her own mind she was satisfied that this was +a little joke inspired by Thompson. + +"No, Miss, she's alone," replied the literal William Johnson. + +"Show her Ladyship in," she said, still playing for safety. "Da---- +sh!" she muttered as, having inadvertently touched the release, the +carriage slid to the left, pinching her finger in its course. + +William Johnson departed, his head half turned over his right +shoulder in admiration of one who could hear with such unconcern +that a real lady had called to see her. + +As her door opened for a second time, Gladys Norman assiduously kept +her eyes fixed upon her machine. + +"No, Johnnie," she remarked, still without looking up. "It's no good. +Lady Denes don't call upon typists at 9.30 a.m., so buzz off, little +beanlet. I'm----" + +"But this Lady Dene does." + +Gladys Norman jumped to her feet, knocking over the benzine bottle +and dropping her brush into the vitals of the machine. + +Before her stood a fair-haired girl, her violet eyes brimming with +mischievous laughter, whilst in her arms she carried a mass of red +roses. + +"I'm so sorry," faltered Gladys Norman, biting her lower lip, and +conscious of her heightened colour and the violet-stained gloves +that had once been white. "I thought Johnnie was playing a joke." + +Lady Dene nodded brightly, whilst Gladys Norman stooped to pick up +the benzine bottle, then with a motion of her head indicated to +William Johnson that his presence was no longer required. +Reluctantly the lad turned, and a moment later the door closed +slowly behind him. + +"I want you to help me," said Lady Dene, dropping the roses on to +the leaf of Gladys Norman's typing-table. "These are for Mr. Sage." + +"For the Chief?" cried Gladys Norman in astonishment. Then she +laughed. The idea of a riot of red roses in Malcolm Sage's room +struck her as funny. + +"You see," said Lady Dene, "this is the birthday of the Malcolm Sage +Bureau, and I'm going to decorate his room." + +"I don't----" began Gladys Norman hesitatingly, when Lady Dene +interrupted her. + +"It's all right," she cried, "I'll take all the responsibility." + +"But we've got no vases," objected Gladys Norman. + +"My chauffeur has some in the car, and there are heaps more roses," +she added. + +"More?" cried Gladys Norman aghast. + +"Heaps," repeated Lady Dene, dimpling with laughter at the +consternation on Gladys Norman's face. "Ah! here they are," as the +door opened and a mass of white roses appeared, with a florid face +peering over the top. + +"Put them down there, Smithson," said Lady Dene, indicating a spot +in front of Gladys Norman's table. "Now fetch the vases and the rest +of the roses." + +"The rest!" exclaimed Gladys Norman. + +Lady Dene laughed. She was thoroughly enjoying the girl's +bewilderment. + +"He's not come yet?" she interrogated. + +The girl shook her head. + +"He won't be here for half-an-hour yet," she said. "He had to go +down into the city." + +"That will just give us time," cried Lady Dene, stooping and picking +up an armful of the white roses. "You bring the red ones," she cried +over her shoulder, as she passed through Malcolm Sage's door, just +as Smithson entered with several purple vases. + +Picking up the red roses, Gladys Norman followed the others into +Malcolm Sage's room. Her feelings were those of someone constrained +to commit sacrilege against her will. + +"Now get some water, Smithson." + +"Water, my Lady?" repeated Smithson, looking about him vaguely, as +Moses might have done in the wilderness. + +"Yes; ask the lad. Be quick," cried Lady Dene, with deft fingers +beginning to arrange the roses in the vases. "Oh! please help me," +she cried, turning to Gladys Norman, who had stood watching her as +if fascinated. + +"But----" she began, when Lady Dene interrupted her. + +"Quick!" cried Lady Dene excitedly, "or he'll be here before we've +finished." + +Then, convinced that it was the work of Kismet, or the devil, Gladys +Norman threw herself into the task of arranging the flowers. + +When Thompson arrived some ten minutes later, he stood at the door +of Malcolm Sage's room "listening with his mouth," as Gladys Norman +had expressed it. When he had regained the power of speech, he +uttered two words. + +"Jumping Je-hosh-o-phat!"; but into them he precipitated all the +emotion of his being. + +"Go away, Tommy, we're busy," cried Gladys Norman over her shoulder. +"Do you hear; go away," she repeated, stamping her foot angrily as +he made no movement to obey, and Thompson slid away and closed the +door, convinced that in the course of the next half-hour there would +be the very deuce to pay. + +He knew the Chief better than Gladys, he told himself, and if there +were one thing calculated to bring out all the sternness in his +nature it was flippancy, and what could be more flippant than +decorating the room of a great detective with huge bowls and vases +of red and white roses. + +Regardless of Thompson's forebodings, Lady Dene smiled to herself as +she put the finishing touches to the last vase, whilst Gladys Norman +gathered up the litter of leaves and stalks that lay on the floor, +throwing them into the fireplace. She then removed the last spots of +water from Malcolm Sage's table. + +Lady Dene took from her bag a small leather-case, which she opened +and placed in the centre of the table opposite Malcolm Sage's chair. +It was a platinum ring of antique workmanship, with a carbuchon of +lapis lazuli. + +"Oh, how lovely!" cried Gladys Norman, as she gazed at the ring's +exquisite workmanship. + +Presently, the two girls stepped back to gaze at their handiwork. In +a few minutes they had transformed an austere, business-man's room +into what looked like a miniature rose-show. From every point red +and white roses seemed to nod their fragrant heads. + +"I----" began Gladys Norman, then she stopped suddenly, arrested by +a slight sound behind her. She span round on her heel. Malcolm Sage +stood in the doorway, with Thompson and William Johnson a few feet +behind him. + +Slowly and deliberately he looked round the room; then his eyes +rested on Lady Dene. + +"How do you do, Lady Dene," he said quietly, extending his hand. + +For a moment she was conscious of an unaccustomed sensation of fear. + +"You're not cross?" she interrogated, looking up at him quizzically, +her head a little on one side. "You see, it's the Bureau's birthday, +and----" She stopped suddenly. + +Malcolm Sage had dropped her hand and walked over to his table. +Picking up the ring he examined it intently, then turned to Lady +Dene, interrogation in his eyes. + +"It's from my husband and me," she said simply. "You have such +lovely hands, and--and we should like you to wear it." + +Without a word he removed the ring from the case and put it on the +third finger of his right hand, which he then extended to Lady Dene, +who took it with a little laugh of happiness. + +"You're not really cross," she said, looking up at him a little +anxiously. + +"To me they stand for so much, Lady Dene," he said gravely, "that I +am not even speculating as to their probable effect upon the faith +of my clients." + +And Malcolm Sage smiled. + +It was that smile Gladys Norman saw as she closed the door behind +her, and which Thompson resolutely refused to believe. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE*** + + +******* This file should be named 28084-8.txt or 28084-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/0/8/28084 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/28084-8.zip b/28084-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d591c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/28084-8.zip diff --git a/28084.txt b/28084.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ddbb1d --- /dev/null +++ b/28084.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9508 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Malcolm Sage, Detective, by Herbert George +Jenkins + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Malcolm Sage, Detective + + +Author: Herbert George Jenkins + + + +Release Date: February 14, 2009 [eBook #28084] +[Last updated: April 4, 2015] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE*** + + +E-text prepared by Alan Winterrowd + + + +MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE + +by + +HERBERT GEORGE JENKINS + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I Sir John Dene Receives His Orders + II The Strange Case of Mr. Challoner + III Malcolm Sage's Mysterious Movements + IV The Surrey Cattle-Maiming Mystery + V Inspector Wensdale Is Surprised + VI The Stolen Admiralty Memorandum + VII The Outrage at the Garage + VIII Gladys Norman Dines with Thompson + IX The Holding Up of Lady Glanedale + X A Lesson in Deduction + XI The McMurray Mystery + XII The Marmalade Clue + XIII The Gylston Slander + XIV Malcolm Sage Plays Patience + XV The Missing Heavyweight + XVI The Great Fight at the Olympia + XVII Lady Dene Calls on Malcolm Sage + + + + +CHAPTER I SIR JOHN DENE RECEIVES HIS ORDERS + + + + +I + + +"John!" + +"Yeh!" + +"Don't say 'yeh,' say 'yes,' Dorothy dear." + +"Yes, Dorothy de----" + +Sir John Dene was interrupted in his apology by a napkin-ring +whizzing past his left ear. + +"What's wrong?" he enquired, laying aside his paper and picking up +the napkin-ring. + +"I'm trying to attract your attention," replied Lady Dene, slipping +from her place at the breakfast-table and perching herself upon the +arm of her husband's chair. She ran her fingers lightly through his +hair. "Are you listening?" + +"Sure!" + +"Well, what are you going to do for Mr. Sage?" + +In his surprise at the question, Sir John Dene jerked up his head to +look at her, and Dorothy's forefinger managed to find the corner of +his eye. + +He blinked vigorously, whilst she, crooning apologies into his ear, +dabbed his eye with her handkerchief. + +"Now," she said, when the damage had been repaired, "I'll go and sit +down like a proper, respectable wife of a D.S.O.," and she returned +to her seat. "Well?" she demanded, as he did not speak. "Yes, dear." + +"What are you going to do for Mr. Sage, now that Department Z is +being demobbed? You know you like him, because you didn't want to +ginger him up, and you mustn't forget that he saved your life," she +added. + +"Sure!" + +"Don't say 'sure,' John," she cried. "You're a British baronet, and +British baronets don't say 'sure,' 'shucks' or vamoose.' Do you +understand?" + +He nodded thoughtfully; + +"I like Mr. Sage," announced Dorothy. Then a moment later she added, +"He always reminds me of the superintendent of a Sunday-school, with +his conical bald head and gold spectacles. He's not a bit like a +detective, is he?" + +"Sure!" + +"If you say it again, John, I shall scream," she cried. + +For some seconds there was silence, broken at length by Dorothy. + +"I like his wonderful hands, too," she continued. "I'm sure he's +proud of them, because he can never keep them still. If you say +'sure,' I'll divorce you," she added hastily. + +He smiled, that sudden, sunny smile she had learned to look for and +love. + +"Then again I like him because he's always courteous and kind. At +Department Z they'd have had their appendixes out if Mr. Sage wanted +them. Now have you made up your mind?" + +"Made it up to what?" he asked, lighting a cigar. + +"That you're going to set him up as a private detective," she said +coolly. "I don't want him to come here and not find everything +planned out." + +"He won't do that," said Sir John Dene with conviction. "He's no +lap-dog." + +"I wrote and asked him to call at ten to-day," she said coolly. + +"Snakes, you did!" he cried, sitting up in his chair. + +"Alligators, I did!" she mocked. + +"You're sure some wife;" he looked at her admiringly. + +"I sure am," she laughed lightly, "but I'm only just beginning, John +dear. By the way, I asked Sir James Walton to come too," she added +casually. + +"You----" he began, when the door opened and a little, silver-haired +lady entered. Sir John Dene jumped to his feet. + +"Behold the mother of the bride," cried Dorothy gaily. + +"Good morning, John," said Mrs. West as he bent and kissed her cheek. +She always breakfasted in her room; she abounded in tact. + +"Now we'll get away from the eggs and bacon," cried Dorothy. "In the +language of the woolly West, we'll vamoose," and she led the way out +of the dining-room along the corridor to Sir John Dene's den. + +"Come along, mother-mine," she cried over her shoulder. "We've got a +lot to discuss before ten o'clock." + +Sir John Dene's "den" was a room of untidiness and comfort. As +Dorothy said, he was responsible for the untidiness and she the +comfort. + +"Heigh-ho!" she sighed, as she sank down into a comfortable chair. +"I wonder what Whitehall would have done without Mr. Sage;" she +smiled reminiscently. "He was the source of half its gossip." + +"He was very kind to you, Dorothy, when John was--was lost," said +Mrs. West gently, referring to the time when Sir John Dene had +disappeared and a reward of 20,000 pounds had been offered for news +of him. + +"Sure!" Sir John Dene acquiesced. "He's a white man, clean to the +bone." + +"It was very wonderful that an accountant should become such a +clever detective," said Mrs. West. "It shows----" she paused. + +"You see, he wasn't a success as an accountant," said Dorothy. "He +was always finding out little wangles that he wasn't supposed to see. +So when they wouldn't have him in the army, he went to the Ministry +of Supply and found out a great, big wangle, and Mr. Llewellyn John +was very pleased. You get me, Honest John?" she demanded, turning to +her husband. + +Sir John Dene nodded and blew clouds of cigar smoke from his lips. +He liked nothing better than to sit listening to his wife's +reminiscences of Whitehall, despite the fact that he had heard most +of them before. + +"Poor Mr. Sage," continued Dorothy, "nobody liked him, and he's got +such lovely down on his head, just like a baby," she added, with a +far-away look in her eyes. + +"Perhaps no one understood him," suggested Mrs. West, with +instinctive charity for the Ishmaels of the world. + +"Isn't that like her," cried Dorothy, "but this time she's right," +she smiled across at her mother. "When a few thousand tons of copper +went astray, or someone ordered millions of shells the wrong size, +Mr. Sage got the wind up, and tried to find out all about it, and in +Whitehall such things weren't done." + +"They tried to put it up on me," grumbled Sir John Dene, twirling +his cigar with his lips, "but I soon stopped their funny work." + +"Everybody was too busy winning the war to bother about trifles," +Dorothy continued. "The poor dears who looked after such things +found life quite difficult enough, with only two hours for lunch and +pretty secretaries to be----" + +"Dorothy!" cried Mrs. West reproachfully. + +"Well, it's true, mother," she protested. + +It was true, as Malcolm Sage had discovered. "Let us concentrate on +what we know we _have_ got," one of his chiefs had once gravely said +to him. "Something is sure to be swallowed up in the fog of war," he +had added. Pleased with the phrase, which he conceived to be +original, he had used it as some men do a titled relative, with the +result that Whitehall had clutched at it gratefully. + +"The fog of war," General Conyers Bardulph had muttered when, for +the life of him, he could not find a division that was due upon the +Western Front and which it was his duty to see was sent out. + +"The fog of war," murmured spiteful Anita McGowan, when the pretty +little widow, Mrs. Sleyton, was being interrogated as to the +whereabouts of her husband. + +"The fog of war," laughed the girls in Department J.P.Q., when at +half-past four one afternoon neither its chief nor his dark-eyed +secretary had returned from lunch. + +"But when he went to Department Z he was wonderful," said Mrs. West, +still clinging tenderly to her Ishmael. + +"He was," said Sir John Dene. "He was the plumb best man at his job +I ever came across." + +"Yes, John dear, that's all very well," said Dorothy, her eyes +dancing, "but suppose you had been the War Cabinet and you had sent +for Mr. Sage;" she paused. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +"And he had come in a cap and a red tie," she proceeded, "and had +resigned within five minutes, saying that you were talking of things +you didn't know anything about." She laughed at the recollection. + +"He was right," said Sir John Dene with conviction. "I've come +across some fools; but----" + +"There, there, dear," said Dorothy, "remember there are ladies +present. In Whitehall we all loved Mr. Sage because he snubbed +Ministers, and we hadn't the pluck to do it ourselves," she added. + +Sir John Dene snorted. His mind travelled back to the time when he +had been "up against the whole sunflower-patch," as he had once +expressed it. + +"But why did they keep him if they didn't like him?" enquired Mrs. +West. + +"When you don't like anyone in Whitehall," Dorothy continued, "you +don't give him the push, mother dear, you just transfer him to +another department." + +"Like circulating bad money," grumbled Sir John Dene. + +"It sure was, John," she agreed. "Poor Mr. Sage soon became the most +transferred man in Whitehall. They used to say, 'Uneasy lies the +head that has a Sage.'" She laughed at the recollection. + +"But wasn't it rather unkind?" said Mrs. West gently. + +"It was, mother-mine; but Whitehall was a funny place. One of Mr. +Sage's chiefs went about for months trying to get rid of him. He +offered to give a motor-cycle to anyone who would take him, it was a +Government cycle," she added; "but there was nothing doing. We +called him Henry the Second and Mr. Sage Becket, the archbishop not +the boxer," she explained. "You know," she added, "there was once +an English king who wanted to get rid of----" + +"We'll have it the sort of concern that insurance companies can look +to," Sir John Dene broke in. + +"What on earth are you talking about, John?" cried Dorothy. + +Whilst his wife talked Sir John Dene had been busy planning Malcolm +Sage's future, and he had uttered his thoughts aloud. He proceeded +to explain. When he had finished, Dorothy clapped her hands. + +"Hurrah! for Malcolm Sage, Detective," she cried and, jumping up, +she perched herself upon the arm of her husband's chair, and rumpled +the fair hair, which with her was always a sign of approval. "That's +his ring, or Sir James's," she added as the bell sounded. + +"Now we'll leave you lords of creation to carry out my idea," she +said as she followed Mrs. West to the door. + +And Sir John Dene smiled. + + + + +II + + +"In the States they've got Pinkerton's," said Sir John Dene, +twirling with astonishing rapidity an unlit cigar between his lips. +"If you've lost anything, from a stick-pin to a mountain, you just +blow in there, tell them all about it, and go away and don't worry. +Here you've got nothing." + +"We have Scotland Yard," remarked Malcolm Sage quietly, without +looking up from the contemplation of his hands, which, with fingers +wide apart, rested upon the table before him. + +His bald, conical head seemed to contradict the determined set of +his jaw and the steel-coloured eyes that gazed keenly through large +gold-rimmed spectacles. Even his ears, that stood squarely out from +his head, appeared to emphasise by their aggressiveness that they +had nothing to do with the benevolent shape of the head above. + +"Yes, and you've got Cleopatra's Needle, and the pelicans in St. +James's Park," Sir John Dene retorted scornfully. He had never +forgotten the occasion when, at a critical moment in the country's +history, the First Lord of the Admiralty had casually enquired if he +had seen the pelicans. + +For the last half-hour Sir John Dene, with characteristic +impulsiveness, had been engaged in brushing aside all Malcolm Sage's +"cons" with his almighty "Pro." + +"We'll have a Pinkerton's in England," he resumed, as neither of his +listeners took up his challenge, "and we'll call it Sage's." + +"I shall in all probability receive quite a number of orders for +shop-fronts," murmured Malcolm Sage, with a slight fluttering at the +corners of his mouth, which those who knew him understood how to +interpret. + +"Shop-fronts!" repeated Sir John Dene, looking from one to the other, +"I don't get you." + +"There is already a well-known firm of shop-furnishers called +'Sage's,'" explained Sir James, who throughout the battle had been +an amused listener. + +"Well, we'll call it the Malcolm Sage Detective Bureau," replied Sir +John Dene, "and we'll have it a concern that insurance companies can +look to." He proceeded to light his cigar, with him always a sign +that something of importance had been settled. + +Sir John Dene liked getting his own way. That morning he had +resolutely brushed aside every objection, ethical or material, that +had been advanced. To Malcolm Sage he considered that he owed a +lot,* and with all the aggressiveness of his nature, he overwhelmed +and engulfed objection and protest alike. To this was added the fact +that the idea was his wife's, and in his own phraseology, "that +goes." + +[* See John Dene of Toronto for the story of how Malcolm Sage +frustrated the enemies of Sir John Dene.] + +Passive and attentive, his long shapely hands seldom still, Malcolm +Sage had listened. From time to time he ventured some objection, +only to have it brushed aside by Sir John Dene's overwhelming +determination. + +For some minutes Malcolm Sage had been stroking the back of his head +with the palm of his right hand, a habit of his when thoughtful. +Suddenly he raised his eyes and looked across at his would-be +benefactor. + +"Why should you want to do this for me, Sir John?" he asked. + +"If you're going to put up a barrage of whys," was the irascible +retort, "you'll never cut any ice." + +"I fully appreciate the subtlety of the metaphor," said Malcolm Sage, +the corners of his mouth twitching; "but still why?" + +"Well, for one thing I owe you something," barked Sir John Dene, +"and remembering's my long suit. For another, Lady Dene----" + +"That is what I wanted to know," said Malcolm Sage, as he drew his +briar from his pocket and proceeded to fill it. "Will you thank Lady +Dene and tell her that I am proud to be under an obligation to her-- +and to you, Sir John," he added. + +"Say, that's fine," cried Sir John Dene, jumping to his feet and +extending his hand, which Malcolm Sage took, an odd, quizzical +expression in his eyes. "This Detective Bureau notion is a whale." + +"The zoological allusion, I'm afraid, is beyond me," said Malcolm +Sage as he struck a match, "but no doubt you are right," and he +looked across at Sir James Walton, whose eyes smiled his approval. + +"It's all fixed up," cried Sir John Dene to his wife as she came out +into the hall as the visitors were departing. + +"I'm so glad," she cried, giving her hand to Malcolm Sage. "You'll +be such a success, Mr. Sage," and she smiled confidently up into his +eyes. + +"With such friends," he replied, "failure would be an impertinence," +and he and Sir James Walton passed out of the flat to return to what +was left of the rapidly demobilising Department Z, which had made +history by its Secret Service work. + +In a few days the news leaked out that "M.S.," as Malcolm Sage was +called by the staff, was to start a private-detective agency. The +whole staff promptly offered its services, and there was much +speculation and heart-burning as to who would be selected. + +On hearing that she was to continue to act as Malcolm Sage's +secretary, Miss Gladys Norman had done a barn-dance across the room, +her arrival at the door synchronising with the appearance of Malcolm +Sage from without. It had become a tradition at Department Z that +"M.S." could always be depended upon to arrive at the most +embarrassing moment of any little dramatic episode; but it was +equally well-known that he possessed a "blind-side" to his vision. +They called it "the Nelson touch." + +James Thompson, Malcolm Sage's principal assistant, and William +Johnson, the office junior, had also been engaged, and their +enthusiasm has been as great as that of their colleague, although +less dramatically expressed. + +A battle royal was fought over the body of Arthur Tims, Malcolm +Sage's chauffeur. Sir John Dene had insisted that a car and a +chauffeur were indispensable to a man who was to rival Pinkerton's. +Malcolm Sage, on the other hand, had protested that it was an +unnecessary expense in the early days of a concern that had yet to +justify itself. To this Sir John Dene had replied, "Shucks!" at the +same time notifying Tims that he was engaged for a year, and +authorising him to select a car, find a garage, and wait +instructions. + +Tims did not do a barn-dance. He contented himself for the time +being with ruffling William Johnson's dark, knut-like hair, a thing +to which he was much addicted. Returning home on the evening of his +engagement he had bewildered Mrs. Tims by seizing her as she stood +in front of the kitchen-stove, a frying-pan full of sausages in her +hand, and waltzing her round the kitchen, frying-pan and all. + +Subsequently five of the six sausages had been recovered; but the +sixth was not retrieved until the next morning when, in dusting, Mrs. +Tims discovered it on the mantelpiece. + + + + +CHAPTER II THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. CHALLONER + + + + +I + + +"Please, sir, Miss Norman's fainted." William Johnson, known to his +colleagues as the innocent, stood at Malcolm Sage's door, with +widened eyes and a general air that bespoke helplessness. + +Without a word Malcolm Sage rose from his table, as if accustomed +all his life to the fainting of secretaries. William Johnson stood +aside, with the air of one who has rung a fire-alarm and now feels +he is at liberty to enjoy the fire itself. + +Entering her room, Malcolm Sage found Gladys Norman lying in a heap +beside her typewriter. Picking her up he carried her into his own +room, placed her in an arm-chair, fetched some brandy from a small +cupboard and, still watched by the wide-eyed William Johnson, +proceeded to force a little between her teeth. + +Presently her lids flickered and, a moment later, she opened her +eyes. For a second there was in them a look of uncertainty, then +suddenly they opened to their fullest extent and became fixed upon +the door beyond. Malcolm Sage glanced over his shoulder and saw +framed in the doorway Sir James Walton. + +"Sit down, Chief," he said quietly, his gaze returning to the girl +sitting limply in the large leather-covered arm-chair. "I shall be +free in a moment." + +It was characteristic of him to attempt no explanation. To his mind +the situation explained itself. + +As Miss Norman made an effort to rise, he placed a detaining hand +upon her arm. + +"Send Mr. Thompson." + +With a motion of his hand Malcolm Sage indicated to William Johnson +that the dramatic possibilities of the situation were exhausted, at +least as far as he was concerned. With reluctant steps the lad left +the room and, having told Thompson he was wanted, returned to his +seat in the outer office, where it was his mission to sit in +preliminary judgment upon callers. + +When Thompson entered, Malcolm Sage instructed him to move the +leather-covered chair into Miss Norman's room and, when she was +rested, to take her home in the car. + +Thompson's face beamed. His devotion to Gladys Norman was notorious. + +The girl rose and raised to Malcolm Sage a pair of dark eyes from +which tears were not far distant. + +"I'm so ashamed, Mr. Sage," she began, her lower lip trembling +ominously. "I've never done such a thing before." + +"I've been working you too hard," he said, as he held back the door. +"You must go home and rest." + +She shook her head and passed out, whilst Malcolm Sage returned to +his seat at the table. + +"Working till two o'clock this morning," he remarked as he resumed +his seat. "She won't have assistance. Strange creatures, women," he +added musingly, "but beautifully loyal." + +Sir James had dropped into a chair on the opposite side of Malcolm +Sage's table. Having selected a cigar from the box his late +chief-of-staff pushed across to him, he cut off the end and +proceeded to light it. + +"Good cigars these," he remarked, as he critically examined the +lighted end. + +"They're your own brand, Chief," was the reply. + +Malcolm Sage always used the old name of "Chief" when addressing Sir +James Walton. It seemed to constitute a link with the old days when +they had worked together with a harmony that had bewildered those +heads of departments who had regarded Malcolm Sage as something +between a punishment and a misfortune. + +"Busy?" + +"Very." + +For some seconds they were silent. It was like old times to be +seated one on each side of a table, and both seemed to realise the +fact. + +"I've just motored up from Hurstchurch," began Sir James at length, +having assured himself that his cigar was drawing as a good cigar +should draw. "Been staying with an old friend of mine, Geoffrey +Challoner." + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"He was shot last night. That's why I'm here." He paused; but +Malcolm Sage made no comment. His whole attention was absorbed in an +ivory paper-knife, which he was endeavouring to balance upon the +handle of the silver inkstand. More than one client had been +disconcerted by Malcolm Sage's restless hands, which they +interpreted as a lack of interest in their affairs. + +"At half-past seven this morning," continued Sir James, "Peters, the +butler, knocked at Challoner's door with his shaving-water. As there +was no reply he entered and found, not only that Challoner was not +there, but that the bed had not been slept in over night." + +Malcolm lifted his hands from the paper-knife. It balanced. + +"He thought Challoner had fallen asleep in the library," continued +Sir James, "which he sometimes did, he is rather a night-owl. Peters +then went downstairs, but found the library door locked on the +inside. As there was no response to his knocking, he went round to +the French-windows that open from the library on to the lawn at the +back of the house. The curtains were drawn, however, and he could +see nothing." + +"Is it usual to draw the curtains?" enquired Malcolm Sage, regarding +with satisfaction the paper-knife as it gently swayed up and down +upon the inkstand. + +"Yes, except in the summer, when the windows are generally kept +open." + +Malcolm Sage nodded, and Sir James resumed his story. + +"Peters then went upstairs to young Dane's room; Dane is Challoner's +nephew, who lives with him. While he dressed he sent Peters to tell +me. + +"A few minutes later we all went down to the library and tried to +attract Challoner's attention; but without result. I then suggested +forcing an entry from the garden, which was done by breaking the +glass of one of the French-windows. + +"We found Challoner seated at his table dead, shot through the head. +He had an automatic pistol in his hand." Sir James paused; his voice +had become husky with emotion. Presently he resumed. + +"We telephoned for the police and a doctor, and I spent the time +until they came in a thorough examination of the room. The +French-windows had been securely bolted top and bottom from within, +by means of a central handle. All the panes of glass were intact, +with the exception of that we had broken. The door had been locked _on +the inside_, and the key was in position. It was unlocked by Peters +when he went into the hall to telephone. It has a strong mortice-lock +and the key did not protrude through to the outer side, so that +there was no chance of manipulating the lock from without. In the +fireplace there was an electric stove, and from the shower of soot +that fell when I raised the trap, it was clear that this had not +been touched for some weeks at least. + +"The doctor was the first to arrive. At my urgent request he +refrained from touching the body. He said death had taken place from +seven to ten hours previously as the result of the bullet wound in +the temple. He had scarcely finished his examination when an +inspector of police, who had motored over from Lewes, joined us. + +"It took him very few minutes to decide that poor Challoner had shot +himself. In this he was confirmed by the doctor. Still, I insisted +that the body should not be removed." + +"Why did you do that, Chief?" enquired Malcolm Sage, who had +discarded the paper-knife and was now busy drawing geometrical +figures with the thumb-nail of his right hand upon the blotting pad +before him. + +"Because I was not satisfied," was the reply. "There was absolutely +no motive for suicide. Challoner was in good health and, if I know +anything about men, determined to live as long as the gods give." + +Again Malcolm Sage nodded his head meditatively. + +"The jumping to hasty conclusions," he remarked, "has saved many a +man his neck. Whom did you leave in charge?" he queried. + +"The inspector. I locked the door; here is the key," he said, +producing it from his jacket pocket. "I told him to allow no one +into the room." + +"Why were you there?" Malcolm Sage suddenly looked up, flashing that +keen, steely look through his gold-rimmed spectacles that many men +had found so disconcerting. "Ordinary visit?" he queried. + +"No." Sir James paused, apparently deliberating something in his +own mind. He was well acquainted with Malcolm Sage's habit of asking +apparently irrelevant questions. + +"There's been a little difficulty between Challoner and his nephew," +he said slowly. "Some days back the boy announced his determination +of marrying a girl he had met in London, a typist or secretary. +Challoner was greatly upset, and threatened to cut him out of his +will if he persisted. There was a scene, several scenes in fact, and +eventually I was sent for as Challoner's oldest friend." + +"To bring the nephew to reason," suggested Malcolm Sage. + +"To give advice ostensibly; but in reality to talk things over," was +the reply. + +"You advised?" When keenly interested, Malcolm Sage's questions were +like pistol-shots. + +"That Challoner should wait and see the girl." + +"Did he?" + +Malcolm Sage was intent upon outlining his hand with the point of +the paper-knife upon the blotting pad. + +Again Sir James hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, however. + +"Yes; but unfortunately with the object of endeavouring to buy her +off. Yesterday afternoon Dane brought her over. Challoner saw her +alone. She didn't stay more than a quarter of an hour. Then she and +Dane left the house together, he to see her to the station. An hour +later he returned. I was in the hall at the time. He was in a very +excited state. He pushed past me, burst into the library, banging +the door behind him. + +"That evening at dinner Challoner told me there had been a very +unpleasant scene. He had warned the boy that unless he apologised +to-day he would telephone to London for his lawyer, and make a fresh +will entirely disinheriting him. Soon after the interview Dane went +out of the house, and apparently did not return until late--as a +matter of fact, after I had gone to bed. I was feeling tired and +said 'good night' to Challoner about half-past ten in the library." + +For some time Malcolm Sage gazed upon the outline he had completed, +as if in it lay the solution of the mystery. + +"It's a pity you let the butler unlock the door," he remarked +regretfully. + +Sir James looked across at his late chief-of-staff keenly. He +detected something of reproach in his tone. + +"Did you happen to notice if the electric light was on when you +entered the library?" + +"No," said Sir James, after a slight pause; "it was not." + +Malcolm Sage reached across to the private telephone and gave the +"three on the buzzer" that always galvanised Miss Gladys Norman into +instant vitality. + +"Miss Norman," said Sage as she entered, "can you lend me the small +mirror I have seen you use occasionally?" + +"Yes, Mr. Sage," and she disappeared, returning a moment later with +the mirror from her handbag. She was accustomed to Malcolm Sage's +strange requests. + +"Feeling better?" he enquired as she turned to go. + +"I'm all right now," she smiled, "and please don't send me home, Mr. +Sage," she added, and she went out before he had time to reply. + +A quarter of an hour later the two men entered Sir James's car, +whilst Thompson and Dawkins, the official photographer to the Bureau, +followed in that driven by Tims. Malcolm Sage would cheerfully have +sacrificed anybody and anything to serve his late chief. + +"And how am I to keep the shine off my nose without a looking-glass, +Johnny?" asked Miss Norman of William Johnson, as she turned to +resume her work. + +"He won't mind if it shines," said the youth seriously; and Miss +Norman gave him a look, which only his years prevented him from +interpreting. + + + + +II + + +As the car drew up, the hall-door of "The Cedars" was thrown open by +the butler, a fair-haired clean-shaven man of about forty-five, with +grave, impassive face, and eyes that gave the impression of allowing +little to escape them. + +As he descended the flight of stone-steps to open the door of the +car, a young man appeared behind him. A moment later Sir James was +introducing him to Malcolm Sage as "Mr. Richard Dane." + +Dark, with smoothly-brushed hair and a toothbrush moustache, he +might easily have been passed over in a crowd without a second +glance. He was obviously and acutely nervous. His fingers moved +jerkily, and there were twitchings at the corners of his mouth that +he seemed unable to control. It was not a good-tempered mouth. He +appeared unconscious of the presence of Malcolm Sage. His eyes were +fixed upon the second car, which had just drawn up, and from which +Thompson and Dawkins were removing the photographic paraphernalia. + +Peters conducted Sir James and Malcolm Sage to the dining-room, +where luncheon was laid. + +"Shall I serve luncheon, Sir James?" he enquired, ignoring Dane, who +was clearly unequal to the strain of the duties of host. + +Sir James looked across at Malcolm Sage, who shook his head. + +"I'll see the library first," he said. "Sir James will show me. +Fetch Dawkins," he said to Thompson, and he followed Sir James +through the house out on to the lawn. + +As they entered the library by the French-windows, a tall, sandy man +rose from the armchair in which he was seated. He was Inspector +Gorton of the Sussex County Constabulary. Malcolm Sage nodded a +little absently. His eyes were keenly taking in every detail of the +figure sprawling across the writing-table. The head rested on the +left cheek, and there was an ugly wound in the right temple from +which blood had dripped and congealed upon the table. In the right +hand was clutched a small, automatic pistol. The arm was slightly +curved, the weapon pointing to the left. + +Having concluded his examination of the wound, Malcolm Sage drew a +silk-handkerchief from his pocket, shook out its folds and spread it +carefully over the blood-stained head of Mr. Challoner. + +Sir James looked across at him, appreciation in his eyes. It was one +of those little human touches, of which he had discovered so many in +Malcolm Sage, and the heads of government departments in Whitehall +so few. + +Malcolm Sage next proceeded to regard the body from every angle, +even going down on his knees to see the position of the legs beneath +the table. He then walked round the room and examined everything +with minute attention, particularly the key of the door, which Sir +James had replaced in its position on the inside. The keyhole on +both sides of the door came in for careful scrutiny. + +He tried the door of a small safe at the far-end of the room; it was +locked. He then examined the fastenings of the French-windows. + +Finally he returned to the table, where, dropping on one knee on the +left-hand side of the body, he drew a penknife from his pocket, and +proceeded with great care and deliberation to slit up the outer seam +of the trousers so that the pocket lay exposed. + +This in turn he cut open, taking care not to disturb the bunch of +keys, which, attached to a chain, lay on the thigh, a little to the +left. + +The others watched him with wide-eyed interest, the inspector +breathing heavily. + +Having assured himself that the keys would not slide off, Malcolm +Sage rose and turned to Dawkins: + +"I want a plate from the right, the left, the front, and from behind +and above. Also an exposure showing the position of the legs, and +another of the keys." + +Dawkins inclined his head. He was a grey, bald-headed little man who +had only one thought in life, his profession. He seldom spoke, and +when he did his lips seemed scarcely to part, the words slipping out +as best they could. + +Happy in the knowledge that his beloved camera was once more to be +one of the principal witnesses in the detection of a crime, Dawkins +set himself to his task. + +"When Dawkins has finished," said Malcolm Sage, turning to the +inspector, who had been watching the proceedings with ill-disguised +impatience, "you can remove the body; but leave the pistol. Give Mr. +Challoner's keys to Sir James. And now I think we might lunch," he +said, turning to Sir James. + +Malcolm Sage's attitude towards the official police was generally +determined by their attitude towards him. In the Department Z days, +he had been known at Scotland Yard as "Sage & Onions." What the +phrase lacked in wit was compensated for by the feeling with which +it was frequently uttered. The police officers made no effort to +dissemble the contempt they felt for a department in which they saw +a direct rebuke to themselves. Later, however, their attitude +changed, and Malcolm Sage was brought into close personal touch with +many of the best-known officers of the Criminal Investigation +Department. + +He had never been known to speak disparagingly, or patronisingly, of +Scotland Yard. On the other hand, he lost no opportunity of +emphasising the fact that it was the head-quarters of the most +efficient police force in the world. He did not always agree with +its methods, which in many ways he regarded as out-of-date. + +As Malcolm Sage left the room, the inspector shrugged his shoulders. +The whole thing was so obvious that, but for the presence of Sir +James Walton, he would have refused to delay the removal of the body. +The doctor had pronounced the wound self-inflicted, and even if he +had not done so, the circumstantial evidence was conclusive. + +Luncheon was eaten in silence, a constrained and uncomfortable meal. +Malcolm Sage ate as he always ate when his mind was occupied, with +entire indifference as to what was on the plate, from which his eyes +never lifted. + +Sir James made several ineffectual efforts to draw Dane into +conversation; but at each remark the young man started violently, as +if suddenly recalled to his surroundings. Finally Sir James desisted, +and the meal concluded in abysmal silence. + +Malcolm Sage then announced that he would examine the various +members of the household, and Dane and Peters left the room. + +One by one the servants entered, were interrogated, and departed. +Even the gardener and his wife, who lived at the lodge by the +main-gates, were cross-questioned. + +Mrs. Trennett, the housekeeper, was incoherent in her voluble +anxiety to give information. The maids were almost too frightened to +speak, and from none was anything tangible extracted. + +No one had any reason for being near the library late at night. + +When Peters' turn came, he told his story with a clearness and +economy of words that caused Malcolm Sage mentally to register him +as a good witness. He was a superior kind of man, who had been in +his present position only some six months; but during that time he +had given every satisfaction, so much so that Mr. Challoner had +remarked to Sir James that he believed he had found a treasure. + +According to Peters' account, at a quarter-past eleven on the +previous evening he had gone to the library, as was his custom, to +see if there were anything else that Mr. Challoner required before +he locked up for the night. On being told there was nothing, he had +accordingly seen to the fastenings of doors and windows and gone to +bed. + +"What was Mr. Challoner doing when you entered the room?" enquired +Malcolm Sage, intent upon a design he was drawing upon the surface +of the salt. + +"He was sitting at the table where I found him this morning." + +"What was he actually doing?" + +"I think he was checking his bankbook, sir." + +"Did you notice anything strange about his manner?" + +"No, sir." + +"When you found that his bed had not been slept in were you +surprised?" + +"Not greatly, sir," was the response. "Once before a similar thing +happened, and I heard from the other servants that on several +occasions Mr. Challoner had spent the night in the library, having +fallen asleep there." + +"When you told Mr. Dane that his uncle had not slept in his room, +and that the library door was locked on the inside, what did he +say?" + +"He said, 'Good Lord! Peters, something must have happened.'" + +"Mr. Dane knew that on previous occasions his uncle had spent the +night in his study?" enquired Malcolm Sage, smoothing out the design +upon which he had been engaged and beginning another. + +"I think so, sir," was the response. + +"The pistol was the one he used at target-practice?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where did he keep it?" + +"In the third right-hand drawer of his table, sir." + +"He was a good shot, I think you said?" Malcolm Sage turned to Sir +James. + +"Magnificent," he said warmly. "I have often shot with him." + +"Do you know of any reason why Mr. Challoner should commit suicide?" +Malcolm Sage enquired of Peters. + +"None whatever, sir; he always seemed very happy." + +"He had no domestic worries?" + +Peters hesitated for a moment. + +"He never mentioned any to me, sir." + +"You have in mind certain events that occurred during the last few +days, I take it?" said Malcolm Sage. + +"That was in my mind, sir," was the response. + +"You know of no way by which anyone could have got into the library +and then out again, other than through the door or the window?" + +Malcolm Sage had relinquished the salt-spoon and was now +meditatively twirling a wineglass by its stem between his thumb and +first finger. + +"There is no other way, sir." + +"Who has access to the library in the ordinary way? Tell me the +names of everybody who is likely to go in at any time." + +"Outside Mr. Challoner and Mr. Dane, there is myself, Mrs. Trennett, +the housekeeper, and Meston, the housemaid." + +"No one else?" + +"No one, sir, except, of course, the guests who might be staying in +the house." + +"I shall want the finger-prints of all those you have named, +including yours, Sir James." Malcolm Sage looked across at Sir James +Walton. "I can then identify those of any stranger that I may find." +Sir James nodded. + +"It would be quite easy for Mr. Challoner to let anyone in through +the French-windows?" enquired Malcolm Sage, turning once more to +Peters. + +"Quite, sir." + +"What time did Mr. Dane return last evening?" + +"I think about a quarter to eleven, sir. He went straight to his +room." + +"That will be all now. Tell Mr. Dane I should like to see him." + +Peters noiselessly withdrew. + +A few minutes later Dane entered the room. Malcolm Sage gave him a +keen, appraising look, then dropped his eyes. Dane was still acutely +nervous. His fingers moved jerkily and the corners of his mouth +twitched. + +"Will you tell me what took place yesterday between you and your +uncle?" said Malcolm Sage. + +Dane looked about him nervously, as an animal might who has been +trapped and seeks some means of escape. + +"We had a row," he began, then paused; "a terrible row," he added, +as if to emphasise the nature of the quarrel. + +"So I understand," said Malcolm Sage. "I know what it was about. +Just tell me what actually took place. In as few words as possible, +please." + +"A week ago I told my uncle of my engagement, and he was very angry +when he knew that my fiancee was--was---- + +"A secretary," suggested Malcolm Sage, without looking up. + +"Yes. He ordered me to break off the engagement at once, no matter +what it might cost." + +"He referred to his pocket rather than to your feelings, I take it?" +said Malcolm Sage. + +"Yes." There was a world of bitterness in the tone in which the word +was uttered. "I refused. Four days ago Sir James came and, I think, +talked things over with my uncle, who said he would see Enid, that +is, my fiancee. She came yesterday afternoon. My uncle insisted on +seeing her alone. She stayed only a few minutes." + +His voice broke. He swallowed rapidly several times in succession, +struggling to regain control of himself. + +"You walked back to the station with her," remarked Malcolm Sage, +"and she told you what had taken place. Your uncle had offered to +buy her off. You were furious. You said many wild and extravagant +things. Then you came back and went immediately into the library. +What took place there?" + +"I don't remember what I said. I think for the time I was insane. He +had actually offered her money, notes. He had drawn them out of the +bank on purpose." Again he stopped, as if the memory of the insult +were too much for him. + +"And you said?" suggested Malcolm Sage, twirling the wineglass +slowly between his thumb and finger. + +"I probably said what any other man would have said under similar +circumstances." There was a quiet dignity about the way in which he +uttered these words, although his fingers still continued to twitch. + +"Did he threaten you, or you him?" + +"I don't remember what I said; but my uncle told me that, unless I +wrote to Enid to-day giving her up and apologised to him, he would +telephone for his lawyer and make a fresh will, cutting me out of it +entirely. I was to have until the next morning to decide, that is, +to-day." + +Malcolm Sage still kept his eyes averted. He contended that to look +fixedly into the eyes of anyone undergoing interrogation was +calculated to confuse him and render the replies less helpful. + +"And what would your decision have been?" he asked. + +"I told him that if he gave me ten years it would be the same." + +"That you would not do as he wished?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Until this episode you were on good terms with each other?" Malcolm +Sage had got a dessert spoon and fork to balance on the blade of a +knife. + +"Yes." + +"You know of no reason why your uncle should take his life?" + +"None whatever." + +"This episode in itself would not be sufficient to cause him to +commit suicide?" + +"Certainly not. Sir James will tell you that he was a man of strong +character." + +"Do you believe he shot himself?" Malcolm Sage seemed absorbed in +the rise and fall of the balancing silver. + +"But for the locked door I should have said 'no.'" + +"What were you proposing to do in the light of your refusal to break +the engagement?" + +"I had everything packed up ready. I meant to go away this morning." + +"By the way, where did your uncle bank?" enquired Malcolm Sage +casually. + +"At the Southern Counties and Brown's Bank, Lewes," was the reply. + +"Thank you. That will do, I think, for the present. You had better +run round to your doctor and get him to give you something to steady +your nerves," said Malcolm Sage, with eyes that had lost their +professional glint. "They are all on edge." + +Dane glanced at him in surprise; but there was only a cone of +baldness visible. + +"Thank you," he said. "I think I will," and he turned and left the +room. He still seemed dazed and incapable of realising what was +taking place. + +Malcolm Sage rose and, walking over to the door, removed the key, +examined the wards intently, then replaced it and, opening the door, +walked across to the library. + + + + +CHAPTER III MALCOLM SAGE'S MYSTERIOUS MOVEMENTS + + + + +I + + +Malcolm Sage found that Dawkins had completed his work, and the body +of Mr. Challoner had been removed. + +Seating himself at the table, he took the automatic pistol in his +hand and deliberately removed the cartridges. Then placing the +muzzle against his right temple he turned his eyes momentarily on +Dawkins, who, having anticipated his wishes, had already adjusted +the camera. He removed the cap, replaced it, and then quickly +reversed the plate. + +Pulling the trigger, Malcolm Sage allowed his head to fall forward, +his right hand, which held the pistol, dropping on the table before +him. Dawkins took another photograph. + +"Now," said Malcolm Sage to Sir James. "You shoot me through the +right temple, approaching from behind. Grip my head as if you +expected me to resist." + +Sir James did as he was requested, Dawkins making another exposure. + +Malcolm Sage motioned Thompson to draw the curtains. Then dropping +on to his knees by the library door, he took the small mirror he had +borrowed from Miss Norman and, placing it partly beneath the door, +carefully examined the reflection by the aid of an electric torch. + +When he rose it was with the air of a man who had satisfied himself +upon some important point. He then turned to Sir James. + +"You might get those finger-prints," he said casually. "Get everyone +together in the dining-room. See that no one leaves it for at least +a quarter of an hour. Thompson will go with you." + +"Then you think it was murder?" questioned Sir James. + +"I would sooner say nothing just at the moment," was the reply. + +Whilst Sir James Walton and Thompson were occupied with a room-full +of domestics, talking in whispers as if in the presence of death, +Malcolm Sage was engaged in a careful examination of the bottoms of +all the doors in the house by means of a mirror placed upwards +beneath each. He also removed the keys and gave a swift look at the +wards of each. + +He moved quickly; yet without haste, as if his brain had entire +control of the situation. + +One door in particular appeared to interest him, so much so that he +entered the room and proceeded to examine it with great thoroughness, +taking the utmost care to replace everything as he found it. + +From the middle-drawer of the chest-of-drawers, he extracted from +under a pile of clothes a thin steel object, some five or six inches +in length, wound round with a fine, strong twine. This he slipped +into his pocket and, going down into the hall, rang up the manager +of the Lewes branch of the Southern Counties and Brown's Bank. + +Passing into the library, he searched the drawers of the table at +which Mr. Challoner had been found. In one of them he discovered the +pass-book. Seating himself at the table, he proceeded to examine it +carefully. Turning to the pockets at either end, where cancelled +cheques are usually placed, he found both were empty. + +When a few minutes later Sir James and Thompson entered with the +finger-prints, Malcolm Sage was seated at the table smoking, his +gaze concentrated upon the nail of the fourth finger of his right +hand. With him a contemplation of his finger-nails in general +indicated thoughtful attention; when, however, he raised the hand +and began to subject some particular finger-nail to a thorough and +elaborate examination, it generally meant the germination of some +constructive thesis. + +Taking the sheets of paper from Thompson, he went through them +rapidly, then drawing a sheet of note-paper from the rack before him +he scribbled a hasty note, enclosed it with one of the fingerprints +in an envelope, which he sealed, addressed, and handed to Thompson +with instructions to see that it was delivered without delay. He +also told him to send Peters and Dane to the library. + +Three minutes later Tims swung down the drive, his face beaming. He +was to drive to Scotland Yard and "never mind the poultry on the +road," as Thompson had phrased it. + +"Have you the key of the safe, Mr. Dane?" enquired Malcolm Sage as +the young man entered, followed by Peters. Dane shook his head and +looked at Peters. + +"Mr. Challoner always wore it on his key-chain, sir," said the +butler. + +"Have you any objection to the safe being opened?" enquired Malcolm +Sage to Dane. + +"None whatever." + +"Then perhaps you will open it?" said Malcolm Sage, turning to Sir +James. + +In the safe were found several bundles of letters and +share-certificates, and an old cash-box containing some loose +stamps; but nothing else. + +Malcolm Sage dismissed Peters and Dane, saying that he would be +returning to town after dinner. In the meantime he and Sir James +strolled about the grounds, discussing the remarkable rise in the +chess-world of Capablanca, whilst Dawkins was busily occupied in a +darkened bath-room. + +Dinner proved a far less sombre meal than luncheon. Malcolm Sage and +Sir James between them succeeded in placing young Dane more at his +ease. The haunted, shell-shock look left his eyes, and the twitching +disappeared from the corners of his mouth. + +It was nearly nine o'clock when the distant moan of a hooter +announced to Malcolm Sage's alert ears the return of Tims. He rose +from the table and walked slowly to the door, where for some seconds +he stood with his hand upon the knob. + +As the car drew up he slipped into the hall, just as Peters opened +the door. + +A moment later the butler started back, his right hand seemed to fly +to his left breast pocket. At the same moment Malcolm Sage sprang +forward. There was a flash, a report, and two bodies fell at the +feet of Inspector Wensdale, of Scotland Yard, and another man +standing beside him. + +In a second, however, they had thrown themselves upon the struggling +heap, and when Malcolm Sage rose to his feet it was to look down +upon Peters pinned to the floor by the inspector, with the strange +man sitting on his legs. + + + + +II + + +"There is no witness so sure as the camera," remarked Malcolm Sage +as he gazed from one to the other of two photographs before him, one +representing him holding an automatic pistol to his own head, and +the other in which Sir James was posing as a murderer. + +"It is strange that it should be so neglected at Scotland Yard," he +added. + +Silent and absorbed when engaged upon a problem, Malcolm Sage +resented speech as a sick man resents arrowroot. At other times he +seemed to find pleasure in lengthy monologues, invariably of a +professional nature. + +"But we use it a lot, Mr. Sage," protested Inspector Wensdale. + +"For recording the features of criminals," was the retort. "No, +Wensdale, you are obsessed by the finger-print heresy, quite +regardless of the fact that none but an amateur ever leaves such a +thing behind him, and the amateur is never difficult to trace." + +He paused for a moment; but the inspector made no comment. + +"The two greatest factors in the suppression of crime," continued +Malcolm Sage, "are photography and finger-prints. Both are in use at +Scotland Yard; but each in place of the other. Finger-prints are +regarded as clues, and photography is a means of identification, +whereas finger-prints are of little use except to identify past +offenders, and photography is the greatest aid to the actual tracing +of the criminal." + +Malcolm Sage never failed to emphasise the importance of photography +in the detection of crime. He probably used it more than all other +investigators put together. He contended that a photographic print +established for all time what the eye could only dimly register for +the moment, with the consequent danger of forgetfulness. + +As the links in a chain multiplied, it was frequently necessary to +refer to the scene of a crime, or tragedy, and then probably some +important point would crop up, which the eye had not considered of +sufficient importance to dwell upon. By then, in the case of a +murder, the body would have been removed, and everything about it +either re-ordered or obliterated. + +Malcolm Sage proceeded to stuff his pipe with tobacco which he drew +from the left-hand pocket of his jacket. He had discovered that a +rubber-lined pocket was the best and safest pouch. + +He picked up a third photograph and laid it beside the others. It +was a print of Mr. Challoner's head, showing, marked in ink, the +course of the bullet towards the left of the frontal bone. + +"A man shooting himself," began Malcolm Sage, "places the pistol in +a position so that the muzzle is directed towards the back of the +head. On the other hand, anyone approaching his victim from behind +would have a tendency to direct the muzzle towards the front of the +head. That is why I got Dawkins to take a photograph of me holding +the pistol to my head and of you holding it from behind. These +photographs will constitute the principal evidence at the trial." + +Sir James nodded. He was too interested to interrupt. + +"On this enlargement of the wound," continued Malcolm Sage, "you +will see an abrasion on the side nearer the ear, as if the head had +suddenly been jerked backwards between the time of the muzzle being +placed against the temple and the actual firing of the shot." + +Thompson leaned across to examine the photograph. + +"If the eyes of someone sitting at a table are suddenly and +unexpectedly covered from behind, the natural instinct is to jerk +backwards so that the head may be turned to see who it is. That is +exactly what occurred with Challoner. He jerked backwards, and the +barrel of the pistol grazed the skin and was deflected still more +towards the frontal bone." + +Sir James and Thompson exchanged glances. Dawkins stood by, a look +of happiness in his eyes. His beloved camera was justifying itself +once more. Inspector Wensdale breathed heavily. + +"Apart from all this, the position of the head on the table, and the +way in which the hand was holding the pistol, not to speak of the +curve of the arm, were unnatural. You get some idea of this from the +photograph that Dawkins took of me, although I could only simulate +death by relaxing the muscles. Again, the head would hardly be +likely to twist on to its side." + +"The doctor ought to have seen that," said the inspector. + +Another thing against the theory of suicide was that the second +joint of the first finger was pressing against the trigger. Mr. +Challoner was an expert shot, and would instinctively have used the +pad of the finger, not the second joint. + +"The next step," continued Malcolm Sage, "was how could anyone get +into the room and approach Challoner without being heard or +'sensed.'" + +"He must have been very much absorbed in what he was doing," +suggested Sir James. + +Malcolm Sage shook his head, and for a few seconds gazed at the +photographs before him. + +"You will remember there was nothing on the table in front of him. I +shall come to that presently. It is very unlikely that a man sitting +at a table would not be conscious of someone approaching him from +behind, no matter how quietly he stepped, _unless that man's +presence in the room were quite a normal and natural thing_. That +gave me the clue to Peters. He is the only person who could be in +the library without Challoner taking any notice of him. Consequently +it was easy for him to approach his master and shoot him." + +"But the locked door, sir," said Thompson. + +"That is a very simple matter. An ordinary lead-pencil, with a piece +of string tied to one end, put through the ring of the key to act as +a lever, the cord being passed beneath the door, will lock any door +in existence. The pencil can then be drawn under the door. This will +show how it's done." Malcolm Sage reached across for a sheet of +paper, and drew a rough sketch. + +[Illustration] + +"That is why you examined the under-edge of the door?" suggested Sir +James. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. "The marks of the cord were clearly defined and +reflected in the mirror. Had the key not been touched, it would have +helped." + +"How?" asked Inspector Wensdale. + +"By means of the string the key is turned only just to the point +where the lever falls through the hole to the floor. The fingers +would turn beyond that point, not being so delicate." + +"Mr. Sage, you're a wonder," burst out the inspector. + +"I then," proceeded Malcolm Sage, "examined all the other doors in +the house, and I found that of one room, which I after discovered to +be Peters', was heavily scored at the bottom. He had evidently +practised fairly extensively before putting the plan into operation. +He had also done the same thing with the library door, as there were +marks of more than one operation. Furthermore, he was wiser than to +take the risk of so clumsy a tool as a lead-pencil. He used this." + +Malcolm Sage drew from his pocket the roll of twine with the thin +steel instrument down the centre. It was a canvas-needle, to the eye +of which the cord was attached. + +"This was absolutely safe," he remarked. "Another thing I discovered +was that one lock, and only one lock in the house, had recently been +oiled--that of the library-door." + +Sir James nodded his head several times. There was something of +self-reproach in the motion. + +"Now," continued Malcolm Sage, "we come back to why a man should be +sitting at a table absorbed in gazing at nothing, and at a time when +most of the household are either in bed or preparing for bed." + +"Peters said that he was checking his pass-book," suggested Sir +James. + +"That is undoubtedly what he _was_ doing," continued Malcolm Sage, +"and Peters removed the passbook, put it in a drawer, first +destroying the cancelled cheques. He made a blunder in not replacing +the pass-book with something else. That was the last link in the +chain," he added. + +"I don't quite see----" began Sir James. + +"Perhaps you did not read of a case that was reported from New York +some eighteen months ago. It was very similar to that of Mr. +Challoner. A man was found shot through the head, the door being +locked on the inside, and a verdict of suicide was returned; but +there was absolutely no reason why he should have taken his life. + +"What actually happened was that Mr. Challoner went to his bank to +draw five hundred pounds with which he hoped to bribe his nephew's +fiancee. He trusted to the temptation of the actual money rather +than a cheque. When he was at the bank the manager once more asked +him to return his pass-book, which had not been balanced for several +months. He was very dilatory in such matters." + +"That is true," said Dane, speaking for the first time. + +"That evening he proceeded to compare it with his cheque-book. I +suspect that Peters had been forging cheques and he saw here what +would lead to discovery. Furthermore, there was a considerable sum +of money in the safe, and the quarrel between uncle and nephew +to divert suspicion. This, however, was mere conjecture--that +trouser-pocket photo, Dawkins," said Malcolm Sage, turning to the +photographer, who handed it across to him. + +"Now notice the position of those keys. They are put in head +foremost, and do not reach the bottom of the pocket. They had +obviously been taken away and replaced in the pocket as Challoner +sat there. Had he gone to the safe himself and walked back to his +chair, the position of the keys would have been quite different." + +Instinctively each man felt in his trousers pocket, and found in his +own bunch of keys a verification of the statement. + +"The whole scheme was too calculated and deliberate for an amateur," +said Malcolm Sage, knocking the ashes out of his pipe on to a brass +ashtray. "That is what prompted me to get the fingerprints of Peters, +so that I might send them to Scotland Yard to see if anything was +known of him there. The result you have seen." + +"We've been on the look-out for him for more than a year," said +Inspector Wensdale. "The New York police are rather interested in +him about a forgery stunt that took place there some time ago." + +"I am confident that when Challoner's affairs are gone into there +will be certain cheques which it will be difficult to explain. + +"Then, again, there was the electric light," proceeded Malcolm Sage. +"A man about to blow out his brains would certainly not walk across +the room, switch off the light, and then find his way back to the +table." + +"That's true enough," said Inspector Wensdale. + +"On the other hand, a murderer, who has to stand at a door for at +least some seconds, would not risk leaving on the light, which would +attract the attention of anyone who might by chance be in the hall, +or on the stairs." + +Inspector Wensdale caught Thompson's left eye, which deliberately +closed and then re-opened. There was a world of meaning in the +movement. + +"Well, I'm glad I didn't get you down on a fool's errand, Sage," +said Sir James, rising. "I wonder what the local inspector will +think." + +"He won't," remarked Malcolm Sage; "that is why he assumed it was +suicide." + +"Did you suspect Peters was armed?" enquired Sir James. + +"I saw the pistol under his left armpit," said Malcolm Sage. "It's +well known with American gunmen as a most convenient place for quick +drawing." + +"If it hadn't been for you, Mr. Sage, he'd have got me," said +Inspector Wensdale. + +"There'll be a heavy car-full for Tims," remarked Malcolm Sage, as +he walked towards the door. + + + + +CHAPTER IV THE SURREY CATTLE-MAIMING MYSTERY + + + +I + + +"Disguise," Malcolm Sage had once re-marked, "is the chief +characteristic of the detective of fiction. In actual practise it +is rarely possible. I am a case in point. No one but a builder, +or an engineer, could disguise the shape of a head like mine;" as +he spoke he had stroked the top of his head, which rose above his +strongly-marked brows like a down-covered cone. + +He maintained that a disguise can always be identified, although not +necessarily penetrated. This in itself would be sufficient to defeat +the end of the disguised man by rendering him an object of suspicion. +Few men can disguise their walk or bearing, no matter how clever +they might be with false beards, grease-paint and wigs. + +In this Malcolm Sage was a bitter disappointment to William Johnson, +the office junior. His conception of the sleuth-hound had been +tinctured by the vivid fiction with which he beguiled his spare time. + +In the heart of William Johnson there were three great emotions: his +hero-worship of Malcolm Sage, his romantic devotion to Gladys Norman, +and his wholesome fear of the robustious humour of Tims. + +In his more imaginative moments he would create a world in which he +was the recognised colleague of Malcolm Sage, the avowed admirer of +Miss Norman, and the austere employer of Tims--chauffeurs never took +liberties with the hair of their employers, no matter how knut-like +it might be worn. + +It was with the object of making sure of the first turret of his +castle in Spain, that William Johnson devoted himself to the earnest +study of what he conceived to be his future profession. + +He read voraciously all the detective stories and police-reports he +came across. Every moment he could snatch from his official duties +he devoted to some scrap of paper, booklet, or magazine. He strove +to cultivate his reasoning powers. Never did a prospective client +enter the Malcolm Sage Bureau without automatically setting into +operation William Johnson's mental induction-coil. With eyes that +were covertly keen, he would examine the visitor as he sat waiting +for the two sharp buzzes on the private telephone which indicated +that Malcolm Sage was at liberty. + +It mattered little to William Johnson that error seemed to dog his +footsteps; that he had "deduced" a famous pussyfoot admiral as a +comedian addicted to drink; a lord, with a ten century lineage, as a +man selling something or other; a Cabinet Minister as a company +promoter in the worst sense of the term; nothing could damp his zeal. + +Malcolm Sage's "cases" he studied as intimately as he could from his +position as junior; but they disappointed him. They seemed lacking +in that element of drama he found so enthralling in the literature +he read and the films he saw. + +Malcolm Sage would enter the office as Malcolm Sage, and leave it as +Malcolm Sage, as obvious and as easily recognisable as St. Paul's +Cathedral. He seemed indifferent to the dramatic possibilities of +disguise. + +William Johnson longed for some decrepit and dirty old man or woman +to enter the Bureau, selling boot-laces or bananas and, on being +peremptorily ordered out, to see the figure suddenly straighten +itself, and hear his Chief's well-known voice remark, "So you don't +recognise me, Johnson--good." There was romance. + +He yearned for a "property-room," where executive members of the +staff would disguise themselves beyond recognition. In his more +imaginative moments he saw come out from that mysterious room a +full-blooded Kaffir, whereas he knew that only Thompson had entered. + +He would have liked to see Miss Norman shed her pretty brunetteness +and reappear as an old apple-woman, who besought him to buy of her +wares. He even saw himself being transformed into a hooligan, or a +smart R.A.F. officer, complete with a toothbrush moustache and +"swish." + +In his own mind he was convinced that, given the opportunity, he +could achieve greatness as a master of disguise, rivalling the +highly-coloured stories of Charles Peace. He had even put his +theories to the test. + +One evening as Miss Norman, who had been working late, was on her +way to Charing Cross Underground Station, she was accosted by a +youth with upturned collar, wearing a shabby cap and a queer Charlie +Chaplain moustache that was not on straight. In a husky voice he +enquired his way to the Strand. + +"Good gracious, Johnnie!" she cried involuntarily. "What on earth's +the matter?" + +A moment later, as she regarded the vanishing form of William +Johnson, she wanted to kill herself for her lack of tact. + +"Poor little Innocent!" she had murmured as she continued down +Villiers Street, and there was in her eyes a reflection of the tears +she had seen spring to those of William Johnson, whose first attempt +at disguise had proved so tragic a failure. + +Neither ever referred to the incident subsequently--although for +days William Johnson experienced all the unenviable sensations of +Damocles. + +From that moment his devotion to Gladys Norman had become almost +worship. + +But William Johnson was not deterred, either by his own initial +failure or his chief's opinion. He resolutely stuck to his own +ideas, and continued to expend his pocket-money upon tinted glasses, +false-moustaches and grease paint; for hidden away in the inner +recesses of his mind was the conviction that it was not quite +playing the game, as the game should be played, to solve a mystery +or bring a criminal to justice without having recourse to disguise. + +It was to him as if Nelson had won the Battle of Trafalgar in a soft +hat and a burberry, or Wellington had met Bluecher in flannels and +silk socks. + +Somewhere in the future he saw himself the head of a "William +Johnson Bureau," and in the illustrated papers a portrait of "Mr. +William Johnson as he is," and beneath it a series of characters +that would rival a Dickens novel, with another legend reading, "Mr. +William Johnson as he appears." + +With these day-dreams, the junior at the Malcolm Sage Bureau would +occupy the time when not actually engaged either in the performance +of his by no means arduous duties, or in reading the highly-coloured +detective stories from which he drew his inspiration. + +From behind the glass-panelled door would come the tick-tack of Miss +Norman's typewriter, whilst outside droned the great symphony of +London, growing into a crescendo as the door was opened, dying away +again as it fell to once more, guided by an automatic self-closer. + +From these reveries William Johnson would be aroused either by +peremptory blasts upon the buzzer of the private-telephone, or by +the entry of a client. + +One morning, as he was hesitating between assuming the disguise of a +naval commander and a street-hawker, a florid little man with purple +jowl and a white, bristling moustache hurtled through the swing-door, +followed by a tall, spare man, whose clothing indicated his clerical +calling. + +"Mr. Sage in?" demanded the little man fiercely. + +"Mr. Sage is engaged, sir," said the junior, his eyes upon the +clergyman, in whose appearance there was something that caused +William Johnson to like him on the spot. + +"Take my card in to him," said the little, bristly man. "Tell him +that General Sir John Hackblock wishes to see him immediately." The +tone was suggestive of the parade-ground rather than a London office. + +At that moment Gladys Norman appeared through the glass-panelled +door. The clergyman immediately removed his hat, the general merely +turned as if changing front to receive a new foe. + +"Mr. Sage will be engaged for about a quarter of an hour. I am his +secretary," she explained. She, also, looked at the general's +companion, wondering what sort of teeth were behind that gentle, yet +firm mouth. "Perhaps you will take a seat," she added. + +This time the clergyman smiled, and Gladys Norman knew that she too +liked him. Sir John looked about him aggressively, blew out his +cheeks several times, then flopped into a chair. His companion also +seated himself, and appeared to become lost in a fit of abstraction. + +William Johnson returned to his table and became engrossed, +ostensibly in the exploits of an indestructible trailer of men; but +really in a surreptitious examination of the two callers. + +He had just succeeded in deducing from their manner that they +were father and son, and from the boots of the younger that he +was low church and a bad walker, when two sharp blasts on the +telephone-buzzer brought him to his feet and half-way across the +office in what was practically one movement. With Malcolm Sage there +were two things to be avoided, delay in answering a summons, and +unnecessary words. + +"This way, sir," he said, and led them through the glass-panelled +door to Malcolm Sage's private room. + +With a short, jerky movement of his head Malcolm Sage motioned his +visitors to be seated. In that one movement his steel-coloured eyes +had registered a mental photograph of the two men. That glance +embraced all the details; the dark hair of the younger, greying at +the temples, the dreamy grey eyes, the gentle curves of a mouth that +was, nevertheless, capable of great sternness, and the spare, almost +lean frame; then the self-important, overbearing manner of the older +man. "High Anglican, ascetic, out-of-doors," was Malcolm Sage's +mental classification of the one, thus unconsciously reversing the +William Johnson's verdict. The other he dismissed as a pompous ass. + +"You Mr. Sage?" Sir John regarded the bald conical head and +gold-rimmed spectacles as if they had been unpolished buttons on +parade. + +Malcolm Sage inclined his head slightly, and proceeded to gaze down +at his fingers spread out on the table before him. After the first +appraising glance he rarely looked at a client. + +"I am Sir John Hackblock; this is my friend, the Rev. Geoffrey +Callice." + +Again a slight inclination of the head indicated that Malcolm Sage +had heard. + +Mr. Llewellyn John would have recognised in Sir John Hackblock the +last man in the world who should have been brought into contact with +Malcolm Sage. The Prime Minister's own policy had been to keep +Malcolm Sage from contact with other Ministers, and thus reduce the +number of his embarrassing resignations. + +"I want to consult you about a most damnable outrage," exploded the +general. "It's inconceivable that in this----" + +"Will you kindly be as brief as possible?" said Malcolm Sage, +fondling the lobe of his left ear. "I can spare only a few minutes." + +Sir John gasped, glared across at him angrily; then, seeming to take +himself in hand, continued: + +"You've heard of the Surrey cattle-maiming outrages?" he enquired. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"Well, this morning a brood-mare of mine was found hacked about in +an unspeakable manner. Oh, the damn scoundrels!" he burst out as he +jumped from his chair and began pacing up and down the room. + +"I think it will be better if Mr. Callice tells me the details," +said Malcolm Sage, evenly. "You seem a little over-wrought." + +"Over-wrought!" cried Sir John. "Over-wrought! Dammit, so would you +be if you had lost over a dozen beasts." In the army he was known as +"Dammit Hackblock." + +Mr. Callice looked across to the general, who, nodding acquiescence, +proceeded to blow his nose violently, as if to bid Malcolm Sage +defiance. + +"This morning a favourite mare belonging to Sir John was found +mutilated in a terrible manner----" Mr. Callice paused; there was +something in his voice that caused Malcolm Sage to look up. The +gentle look had gone from his face, his eyes flashed, and his mouth +was set in a stern, severe line. + +"Good preacher," Malcolm Sage decided as he dropped his eyes once +more, and upon his blotting pad proceeded to develop the Pons +Asinorum into a church. + +In a voice that vibrated with feeling and suggested great +self-restraint, Mr. Callice proceeded to tell the story of the +latest outrage. How when found that morning the mare was still alive, +of the terrible nature of her injuries, and that the perpetrator had +disappeared, leaving no trace. + +"Her look, sir! Dammit!" the general broke in. "Her eyes have +haunted me ever since. They----" His voice broke, and he proceeded +once more to blow his nose violently. + +Mr. Callice went on to explain that after having seen the mare put +out of her misery, Sir John had motored over to his lodgings and +insisted that they should go together to Scotland Yard and demand +that something be done. + +"Callice is Chairman of the Watchers' Committee," broke in Sir John. + +"I should explain," proceeded Mr. Callice, "that some time ago we +formed ourselves into a committee to patrol the neighbourhood at +night in the hope of tracing the criminal. On the way up Sir John +remembered hearing of you in connection with Department Z and, as he +was not satisfied with his call at Scotland Yard, he decided to come +on here and place the matter in your hands." + +"This is the twenty-ninth maiming?" Malcolm Sage remarked, as he +proceeded to add a graveyard to the church. + +"Yes, the first occurred some two years ago." Then, as if suddenly +realising what Malcolm Sage's question implied, he added: "You have +interested yourself in the affair?" + +"Yes," was the reply. "Tell me what has been done." + +"The police seem utterly at fault," continued Mr. Callice. "Locally +we have organised watch-parties. My boys and I have been out night +after night; but without result. I am a scout-master," he explained. + +"The poor beasts' sufferings are terrible," he continued after a +slight pause. "It is a return to barbarism;" again there was the +throb of indignation in his voice. + +"You have discovered nothing?" + +"Nothing," was the response, uttered in a tone of deep despondency. +"We have even tried bloodhounds; but without result." + +"And now I want you to take up the matter, and don't spare expense," +burst out Sir John, unable to contain himself longer. + +"I will consider the proposal and let you know," said Malcolm Sage, +evenly. "As it is, my time is fully occupied at present; but +later----" He never lost an opportunity of resenting aggression by +emphasising the democratic tendency of the times. Mr. Llewellyn John +had called it "incipient Bolshevism." + +"Later!" cried Sir John in consternation. "Why, dammit, sir! there +won't be an animal left in the county. This thing has been going on +for two years now, and those damn fools at Scotland Yard----" + +"If it were not for Scotland Yard," said Malcolm Sage quietly, as he +proceeded to shingle the roof of the church, the graveyard having +proved a failure, "we should probably have to sleep at night with +pistols under our pillows." + +"Eh!" Sir John looked across at him with a startled expression. + +"Scotland Yard is the head-quarters of the most efficient and +highly-organised police force in the world," was the quiet reply. + +"But, dammit! if they're so clever why don't they put a stop to this +torturing of poor dumb beasts?" cried the general indignantly. "I've +shown them the man. It's Hinds; I know it. I've just been to see +that fellow Wensdale. Why, dammit! he ought to be cashiered, and I +told him so." + +"Who is Hinds?" Malcolm Sage addressed the question to Mr. Callice. + +"He used to be Sir John's head gamekeeper----" + +"And I discharged him," exploded the general. "I'll shoot a poacher +or his dog; but, dammit! I won't set traps for them," and he puffed +out his cheeks aggressively. + +"Hinds used to set traps to save himself the trouble of patrolling +the preserves," explained Mr. Callice, "and one day Sir John +discovered him actually watching the agonies of a dog caught across +the hind-quarters in a man-trap." Again there was the wave of +feeling in the voice, and a stern set about the mouth. + +"It's Hinds right enough," cried the general with conviction. "The +man's a brute. Now will you----?" + +"I will let you know as soon as possible whether or no I can take up +the enquiry," said Malcolm Sage, rising. "I fear that is the best I +can promise." + +"But----" began Sir John; then he stopped and stared at Malcolm Sage +as he moved towards the door. + +"Dammit! I don't care what it costs," he spluttered explosively. +"It'll be worth five hundred pounds to the man who catches the +scoundrel. Poor Betty," he added in a softer tone. + +"I will write to you shortly," said Malcolm Sage. There was +dismissal in his tone. + +With darkened jowl and bristling moustache Sir John strutted towards +the door. Mr. Callice paused to shake hands with Malcolm Sage, and +then followed the general, who, with a final glare at William +Johnson, as he held open the swing-door, passed out into the street, +convinced that now the country was no longer subject to conscription +it would go rapidly to the devil. + +For the next half-hour Malcolm Sage pored over a volume of +press-cuttings containing accounts of previous cattle-maimings. + +Following his usual custom in such matters, he had caused the +newspaper accounts of the various mutilations to be collected and +pasted in a press-cutting book. Sooner or later he had determined to +devote time to the affair. + +Without looking up from the book he pressed three times in rapid +succession a button of the private-telephone. Instantly Gladys +Norman appeared, note-book in hand. She had been heard to remark +that if she were dead "three on the buzzer" would bring her to life +again. + +"Whitaker and Inspector Wensdale," said Malcolm Sage, his eyes still +on the book before him. + +When deep in a problem Malcolm Sage's economy in words made it +difficult for anyone but his own staff to understand his +requirements. + +Without a word the girl vanished and, a moment later, William +Johnson placed _Whitaker's Almanack_ on the table, then he in turn +disappeared as silently as Gladys Norman. + +Malcolm Sage turned to the calendar, and for some time studied the +pages devoted to the current month (June) and July. As he closed +the book there were three buzzes from the house-telephone, the +signal that he was through to the number required. Drawing the +pedestal-instrument towards him, he put the receiver to his ear. + +"That Inspector Wensdale?--Yes! Mr. Sage speaking. It's about the +cattle-maiming business.--I've just heard of it.--I've not decided +yet. I want a large-scale map of the district, with the exact spot +of each outrage indicated, and the date.--To-morrow will do.--Yes, +come round. Give me half an hour with the map first." + +Malcolm Sage replaced the receiver as the buzzer sounded, announcing +another client. + + + + +II + + +"So there is nothing?" Malcolm Sage looked up enquiringly from the +map before him. + +"Nothing that even a stage detective could turn into a clue," said +Inspector Wensdale, a big, cleanshaven man with hard, alert eyes. + +Malcolm Sage continued his study of the map. + +"Confound those magazine detectives!" the inspector burst out +explosively. "They've always got a dust-pan full of clues ready made +for 'em." + +"To say nothing of finger-prints," said Malcolm Sage dryly. He never +could resist a sly dig at Scotland Yard's faith in finger-prints as +clues instead of means of identification. + +"It's a bit awkward for me, too, Mr. Sage," continued the inspector, +confidentially. "Last time _The Daily Telegram_ went for us +because----" + +"You haven't found a dust-pan full of clues?" suggested Malcolm Sage, +who was engaged in forming geometrical designs with spent matches. + +"They're getting a bit restive, too, at the Yard," he continued. He +was too disturbed in mind for flippancy. "It was this cattle-maiming +business that sent poor old Scott's number up," he added, referring +to Detective Inspector Scott's failure to solve the mystery. "Now +the general's making a terrible row. Threatens me with the +Commissioner." + +For some seconds Malcolm Sage devoted himself to his designs. + +"Any theory?" he enquired at length, without looking up. + +"I've given up theorising," was the dour reply. + +In response to a further question as to what had been done, the +inspector proceeded to detail how the whole neighbourhood had been +scoured after each maiming, and how, night after night, watchers had +been posted throughout the district, but without result. + +"I have had men out night and day," continued the inspector gloomily. +"He's a clever devil whoever he is. It's my opinion the man's a +lunatic," he added. + +Malcolm Sage looked up slowly. + +"What makes you think that?" he asked. + +"His cunning, for one thing," was the reply. "Then it's so senseless. +No," he added with conviction, "he's no more an ordinary man than +Jack-the-Ripper was." + +He went on to give details of his enquiries among those living in +the district. There was absolutely nothing to attach even the +remotest suspicion to any particular person. Rewards had been +offered for information; but all without producing the slightest +evidence or clue. + +"This man Hinds?" enquired Malcolm Sage, looking about for more +matches. + +"Oh! the general's got him on the brain. Absolutely nothing in it. +I've turned him inside out. Why, even the Deputy Commissioner had a +go at him, and if he can get nothing out of a man, there's nothing +to get out." + +"Well," said Malcolm Sage rising, "keep the fact to yourself that I +am interested. I suppose, if necessary, you could arrange for twenty +or thirty men to run down there?" he queried. + +"The whole blessed Yard if you like, Mr. Sage," was the feeling +reply. + +"We'll leave it at that for the present then. By the way, if you +happen to think you see me in the neighbourhood you needn't remember +that we are acquainted." + +The inspector nodded comprehendingly and, with a heart lightened +somewhat of its burden, he departed. He had an almost child-like +faith in Malcolm Sage. + +For half an hour Malcolm Sage sat engrossed in the map of the scene +of the maimings. On it were a number of red-ink crosses with figures +beneath. In the left-hand bottom corner was a list of the various +outrages, with the date and the time, as near as could be +approximated, against each. + +The numbers in the bottom corner corresponded with those beneath the +crosses. + +From time to time he referred to the two copies of _Whitaker's +Almanack_ open before him, and made notes upon the writing-pad at +his side. Finally he ruled a square upon the map in red ink, and +then drew two lines diagonally from corner to corner. Then without +looking up from the map, he pressed one of the buttons of the +private-telephone. "Tims," he said through the mouthpiece. + +Five minutes later Malcolm Sage's chauffeur was standing opposite +his Chief's table, ready to go anywhere and do anything. + +"To-morrow will be Sunday, Tims." + +"Yessir." + +"A day of rest." + +"Yessir!" + +"We are going out to Hempdon, near Selford," Malcolm Sage continued, +pointing to the map. Tims stepped forward and bent over to identify +the spot. "The car will break down. It will take you or any other +mechanic two hours to put it right." + +"Yessir," said Tims, straightening himself. + +"You understand," said Malcolm Sage, looking at him sharply, "you +_or any other mechanic?"_ + +"Yessir," repeated Tims, his face sphinx-like in its lack of +expression. + +He was a clean-shaven, fleshless little man who, had he not been a +chauffeur, would probably have spent his life with a straw between +his teeth, hissing lullabies to horses. + +"I shall be ready at nine," said Malcolm Sage, and with another +"Yessir" Tims turned to go. + +"And Tims." + +"Yessir." He about-faced smartly on his right heel. "You might +apologise for me to Mrs. Tims for depriving her of you on Sunday. +Take her out to dinner on Monday and charge it to me." + +"Thank you, sir, very much, sir," said Tims, his face expressionless. + +"That is all, Tims, thank you." + +Tims turned once more and left the room. As he walked towards the +outer door he winked at Gladys Norman and, with a sudden dive, made +a frightful riot of William Johnson's knut-like hair. Then, without +change of expression, he passed out to tune up the car for its run +on the morrow. + +Malcolm Sage's staff knew that when "the Chief" was what Tims called +"chatty" he was beginning to see light, so Tims whistled loudly at +his work: for he, like all his colleagues, was pleased when "the +Chief" saw reason to be pleased. + +The following morning, as they trooped out of church, the +inhabitants of Hempdon were greatly interested in the break-down of +a large car, which seemed to defy the best efforts of the chauffeur +to coax into movement. The owner drank cider at the Spotted +Woodpigeon and talked pleasantly with the villagers, who, on +learning that he had never even heard of the Surrey cattle-maimings, +were at great pains to pour information and theories into his +receptive ear. + +The episode quite dwarfed the remarkable sermon preached by Mr. +Callice, in which he exhorted his congregation to band themselves +together to track down him who was maiming and torturing God's +creatures, and defying the Master's merciful teaching. + +It was Tom Hinds, assisted by a boy scout, who conducted Malcolm +Sage to the scene of the latest outrage. It was Hinds who described +the position of the mare when she was discovered, and it was he who +pocketed two half-crowns as the car moved off Londonwards. + +That evening Malcolm Sage sat long and late at his table, engrossed +in the map that Inspector Wensdale had sent him. + +Finally he subjected to a thorough and exhaustive examination the +thumb-nail of his right hand. It was as if he saw in its polished +surface the tablets of destiny. + +The next morning he wrote a letter that subsequently caused Sir John +Hackblock to explode into a torrent of abuse of detectives in +general and one investigator in particular. It stated in a few words +that, owing to circumstances over which he had no control, Malcolm +Sage would not be able to undertake the enquiry with which Sir John +Hackblock had honoured him until the end of the month following. He +hoped, however, to communicate further with his client soon after +the 23rd of that month. + + + + +CHAPTER V INSPECTOR WENSDALE IS SURPRISED + + + + +I + + +Nearly a month had elapsed, and the cattle-maiming mystery seemed as +far off solution as ever. The neighbourhood in which the crimes had +been committed had once more settled down to its usual occupations, +and Scotland Yard had followed suit. + +Sir John Hackblock had written to the Chief Commissioner and a +question had been asked in the House. + +Inspector Wensdale's colleagues had learned that it was dangerous to +mention in his presence the words "cattle" or "maiming." The +inspector knew that the affair was referred to as "Wensdale's +Waterloo," and his failure to throw light on the mystery was +beginning to tell upon his nerves. + +For three weeks he had received no word from Malcolm Sage. One +morning on his arrival at Scotland Yard he was given a telephone +message asking him to call round at the Bureau during the day. + +"Nothing new?" queried Malcolm Sage ten minutes later, as the +inspector was shown into his room by Thompson. + +The inspector shook a gloomy head and dropped his heavy frame into a +chair. + +Malcolm Sage indicated with a nod that Thompson was to remain. + +"Can you borrow a couple of covered government lorries?" queried +Malcolm Sage. + +"A couple of hundred if necessary," said the inspector dully. + +"Two will be enough," was the dry rejoinder. "Now listen carefully, +Wensdale. I want you to have fifty men housed some ten miles away +from Hempdon on the afternoon of the 22nd. Select men who have done +scouting, ex-boy scouts, for preference. Don't choose any with bald +heads or with very light hair. See that they are wearing dark +clothes and dark shirts and, above all, no white collars. Take with +you a good supply of burnt cork such as is used by nigger +minstrels." + +Malcolm Sage paused, and for the fraction of a second there was a +curious fluttering at the corners of his mouth. + +Inspector Wensdale was sitting bolt upright in his chair, gazing at +Malcolm Sage as if he had been requested to supply two lorry-loads +of archangels. + +"It will be moonlight, and caps might fall off," explained Malcolm +Sage. "You cannot very well ask a man to black his head. Above all," +he continued evenly, "be sure you give no indication to anyone why +you want the men, and tell them not to talk. You follow me?" he +queried. + +"Yes," said the inspector, "I--I follow." + +"Don't go down Hempdon way again, and tell no one in the +neighbourhood; _no one_, you understand, is to know anything about +it. Don't tell the general, for instance." + +"Him!" There was a world of hatred and contempt in the inspector's +voice. Then he glanced a little oddly at Malcolm Sage. + +Malcolm Sage went on to elaborate his instructions. The men were to +be divided into two parties, one to form a line north of the scene +of the last outrage, and the other to be spread over a particular +zone some three miles the other side of Hempdon. They were to +blacken their faces and hands, and observe great care to show no +light colouring in connection with their clothing. Thus they would +be indistinguishable from their surroundings. + +"You will go with one lot," said Malcolm Sage to the inspector, "and +my man Finlay with the other. Thompson and I will be somewhere in +the neighbourhood. You will be given a pass-word for purposes of +identification. You understand?" + +"I think so," said the inspector, in a tone which was suggestive +that he was very far from understanding. + +"I'll have everything typed out for you, and scale-plans of where +you are to post your men. Above all, don't take anyone into your +confidence." + +Inspector Wensdale nodded and looked across at Thompson, as if to +assure himself that after all it really was not some huge joke. + +"If nothing happens on the 22nd, we shall carry-on the second, third, +and fourth nights. In all probability we shall catch our man on the +23rd." + +"Then you know who it is?" spluttered the inspector in astonishment. + +"I hope to know on the 23rd," said Malcolm Sage dryly, as he rose +and walked towards the door. Directness was his strong point. Taking +the hint, Inspector Wensdale rose also and, with the air of a man +not yet quite awake, passed out of the room. + +"You had better see him to-morrow, Thompson," said Malcolm Sage, +"and explain exactly how the men are to be disposed. Make it clear +that none must show themselves. If they actually see anyone in the +act, they must track him, not try to take him." + +Thompson nodded his head comprehendingly. + +"Make it clear that they are there to watch; but I doubt if they'll +see anything," he added. + + + + +II + + +At eleven o'clock on the night of July the 23rd, two motor lorries +glided slowly along some three miles distant from one another. From +their interiors silent forms dropped noiselessly on to the moon-white +road. A moment later, slipping into the shadow of the hedge, they +disappeared. All the previous night men had watched and waited; but +nothing had happened. Now they were to try again. + +Overhead the moon was climbing the sky, struggling against masses of +cloud that from time to time swung themselves across her disc. + +In the village of Hempdon all was quiet. The last light had been +extinguished, the last dog had sent forth a final challenging bark, +hoping that some neighbouring rival would answer and justify a +volume of canine protest. + +On the western side of the highway, and well behind the houses, two +figures were standing in the shadow cast by a large oak. Their faces +and hands were blackened, rendering them indistinguishable from +their surroundings. + +One wore a shade over a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, a precaution +against the moonlight being reflected on the lenses. + +Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half passed. They waited. +Presently one gripped the arm of the other and pointed. At the back +of the house immediately-opposite there was a slight movement in the +shade cast by a hedge. Then the line readjusted itself and the +shadow vanished. A moment later it reappeared in a patch of +moonlight, looking like a large dog. + +Stooping low Malcolm Sage and Thompson followed the dog-like form, +themselves taking advantage of every patch of shadow and cover that +offered. + +The mysterious form moved along deliberately and without haste, now +disappearing in the shadow cast by some tree or bush, now +reappearing once more on the other side. + +It was obviously taking advantage of everything that tended to +conceal its movements. + +Once it disappeared altogether, and for five minutes the two +trackers lay on their faces and waited. + +"Making sure he's not being followed," whispered Thompson, and +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +Presently the figure appeared once more and, as if reassured, +continued its slow and deliberate way. + +Once a dog barked, a short, sharp bark of uncertainty. Again there +was no sign of the figure for some minutes. Then it moved out from +the surrounding shadows and continued its stealthy progress. + +Having reached the outskirts of the village, it continued its +crouching course along the western side of the hedge flanking the +roadside. + +Malcolm Sage and Thompson followed under the shadow of a hedge +running parallel. + +For a mile the slow and laborious tracking continued. Suddenly +Malcolm Sage stopped. In the field on their right two horses were +grazing in the moonlight. It was the scene of the tragedy of the +month previous! + +For some minutes they waited expectantly. Suddenly Malcolm Sage +gripped Thompson's arm and pointed. From under the hedge a dark +patch was moving slowely towards the nearer of the two animals. It +was apparently the form of a man, face downward, wriggling along +inch by inch without bending a limb. + +"Get across. Cut off his retreat," whispered Sage. "Look out for the +knife." + +Thompson nodded and slid away under cover of the hedge separating +the field in which the horses were from that along which the +watchers had just passed. + +Slowly the form approached its quarry. Once the horse lifted its +head as though scenting danger; but the figure was approaching +upwind. + +Suddenly it raised itself, appearing once more like a large dog. +Then with a swift, panther-like movement it momentarily disappeared +in the shadow cast by the horse. + +There was a muffled scream and a gurgle, as the animal collapsed, +then silence. + +A minute later the form seemed to detach itself from the carcase and +wriggled along towards the hedge, a dark patch upon the grass. + +Malcolm Sage was already half-way through the second field, keeping +well under the shelter of the hedge. He reached a spot where the +intersecting hedge joined that running parallel with the highroad. +There was a hole sufficiently large for a man to crawl through from +one field to the other. By this Malcolm Sage waited, a life-preserver +in his hand. + +At the sound of the snapping of a twig, he gripped his weapon; a +moment later a round, dark shape appeared through the hole in the +hedge. Without hesitating Malcolm Sage struck. + +There was a sound, half grunt, half sob, and Malcolm Sage was on his +feet gazing down at the strangest creature he had ever encountered. + +Clothed in green, its face and hands smeared with some pigment of +the same colour, lay the figure of a tall man. Round the waist was a +belt from which was suspended in its case a Gurkha's kukri. + +Malcolm Sage bent down to unbuckle the belt. He turned the man on +his back. As he did so he saw that in his hand was a small, +collapsible tin cup covered with blood, which also stained his lips +and chin, and dripped from his hands, whilst the front of his +clothing was stained in dark patches. + +"I wonder who he is," muttered Thompson, as he gazed down at the +strange figure. + +"Locally he is known as the Rev. Geoffrey Callice," remarked Malcolm +Sage quietly. + +And Thompson whistled. + + + + +III + + +"And that damned scoundrel has been fooling us for two years." Sir +John Hackblock glared at Inspector Wensdale as if it were he who was +responsible for the deception. + +They were seated smoking in Sir John's library after a particularly +early breakfast. + +"I always said it was the work of a madman," said the inspector in +self-defence. + +"Callice is no more mad than I am," snapped Sir John. "I wish I were +going to try him," he added grimly. "The scoundrel! To think----" +His indignation choked him. + +"He is not mad in the accepted sense," said Malcolm Sage as he +sucked meditatively at his pipe. "I should say that it is a case of +race-memory." + +"Race-memory! Dammit! what's that?" Sir John Hackblock snapped out +the words in his best parade-ground manner. He was more purple than +ever about the jowl, and it was obvious that he was prepared to +disagree with everyone and everything. As Lady Hackblock and her +domestics would have recognised without difficulty, Sir John was +angry. + +"How the devil did you spot the brute?" he demanded, as Malcolm Sage +did not reply immediately. + +"Race-memory," he remarked, ignoring the question, "is to man what +instinct is to animals; it defies analysis or explanation." + +Sir John stared; but it was Inspector Wensdale who spoke. + +"But how did you manage to fix the date, Mr. Sage?" he enquired. + +"By the previous outrages," was the reply. + +"The previous outrages!" cried Sir John. "Dammit! how did they help +you?" + +"They all took place about the time the moon was at the full. There +were twenty-eight in all." Malcolm Sage felt in his pocket and drew +out a paper. "These are the figures." + +In his eagerness Sir John snatched the paper from his hand, and with +Inspector Wensdale looking over his shoulder, read: + + Day before full moon . . . . 4 + Full moon . . . . . . 15 + Day after . . . . . . 7 + Second day after . . . . . 2 + -- + Total 28 . . . . . . 28 + +"Well, I'm damned!" exclaimed Sir John, looking up from the paper at +Malcolm Sage, as if he had solved the riddle of the universe. + +The inspector's only comment was a quick indrawing of breath. + +Sir John continued to stare at Malcolm Sage, the paper still held in +his hand. + +"That made matters comparatively easy," continued Malcolm Sage. "The +outrages were clearly not acts of revenge upon any particular +person; for they involved nine different owners. They were obviously +the work of someone subject to a mania, or obsession, which gripped +him when the moon was at the full." + +"But how did you fix the actual spot?" burst out Inspector Wensdale +excitedly. + +"Each of the previous acts had been either in a diametrically +opposite direction from that immediately preceding it, or +practically on the same spot. For instance, the first three were +north, east, and south of Hempdon, in the order named. Then the +cunning of the perpetrator prompted him to commit a fourth, not to +the west; but to the south, within a few yards of the previous act. +The criminal argued, probably subconsciously, that he would be +expected to complete the square." + +"But what made you fix on Hempdon as the headquarters of the +blackguard?" enquired Sir John. + +"That was easy," remarked Malcolm Sage, polishing the thumb-nail of +his left hand upon the palm of his right. + +"Easy!" The exclamation burst involuntarily from the inspector. + +"You supplied me with a large scale-map showing the exact spot where +each of the previous maimings had taken place. I drew a square to +embrace the whole. Lines drawn diagonally from corner to corner gave +me the centre of gravity." + +"But----" began the inspector. + +Ignoring the interruption Malcolm Sage continued. + +"A man committing a series of crimes from a given spot was bound to +spread his operations over a fairly wide area in order to minimise +the chance of discovery. The longer the period and the larger the +number of comes, the greater the chance of his being located +somewhere near the centre of his activities." + +"Well, I'm damned!" remarked Sir John for the second time. Then +suddenly turning to Inspector Wensdale, "Dammit!" he exploded, "why +didn't you think of that?" + +"There was, of course, the chance of his striking in another +direction," continued Malcolm Sage, digging into the bowl of his +pipe with a penknife, "so I placed the men in such a way that if he +did so he was bound to be seen." + +Inspector Wensdale continued to gaze at him, eager to hear more. + +"But what was that you said about race-memory?" Sir John had quieted +down considerably since Malcolm Sage had begun his explanation. + +"I should describe it as a harking back to an earlier phase. It is +to the mind what atavism is to the body. In breeding, for +instance"--Malcolm Sage looked across to Sir John--"you find that +an offspring will manifest characteristics, or a taint, that is not +to be found in either sire or dam." + +Sir John nodded. + +"Well, race-memory is the same thing in regard to the mental plane, +a sort of subconscious wave of reminiscence. In Callice's case it +was in all probability the memory of some sacrificial rite of his +ancestors centuries ago." + +"A case of heredity." + +"Broadly speaking, yes. At the full moon this particular tribe, +whose act Callice has reproduced, was in the habit of slaughtering +some beast, or beasts, and drinking the blood, probably with the +idea of absorbing their strength or their courage. Possibly the +surroundings at Hempdon were similar to those where the act of +sacrifice was committed in the past. + +"It must be remembered that Callice was an ascetic, and consequently +highly subjective. Therefore when the wave of reminiscence is +taken in conjunction with the surroundings, the full moon and +his high state of subjectivity, it is easy to see that material +considerations might easily be obliterated. That is why I watched +the back entrance to his lodgings." + +"And all the time we were telling him our plans," murmured the +inspector half to himself. + +"Yes, and he would go out hunting himself," said Sir John. "Damn +funny, I call it. Anyway, he'll get seven years at least." + +"When he awakens he will remember nothing about it. You cannot +punish a man for a subconscious crime." + +Sir John snorted indignantly; but Inspector Wensdale nodded his head +slowly and regretfully. + +"Anyway, I owe you five hundred pounds," said Sir John to Malcolm +Sage; "and, dammit! it's worth it," he added. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders as he rose to go. + +"I was sorry to have to hit him," he said regretfully, "but I was +afraid of that knife. A man can do a lot of damage with a thing like +that. That's why I told you not to let your men attempt to take him, +Wensdale." + +"How did you know what sort of knife it was?" asked the inspector. + +"Oh! I motored down here, and the car broke down. Incidentally I +made a lot of acquaintances, including Callice's patrol-leader, a +bright lad. He told me a lot of things about Callice and his ways. A +remarkable product the boy scout," he added. "Kipling calls him 'the +friend of all the world.'" + +Sir John looked across at Inspector Wensdale, who was strongly +tempted to wink. + +"Don't think too harshly of Callice," said Malcolm Sage as he shook +hands with Sir John. "It might easily have been you or I, had we +been a little purer in mind and thought." + +And with that he passed out of the room with Inspector Wensdale +followed by Sir John Hackblock, who was endeavouring to interpret +the exact meaning of the remark. + +"They said he was a clever devil," he muttered as he returned to the +library after seeing his guests off, "and, dammit! they were right." + + + + +CHAPTER VI THE STOLEN ADMIRALTY MEMORANDUM + + + + +I + + +"Well," cried Tims, one Saturday night, as he pushed open the +kitchen door of the little flat he occupied over the garage. "How's +the cook, the stove, and the supper?" + +"I'm busy," said Mrs. Tims, a little, fair woman, with blue eyes, an +impertinent nose, and the inspiration of neatness in her dress, as +she altered the position of a saucepan on the stove and put two +plates into the oven to warm. + +This was the invariable greeting between husband and wife. Tims went +up behind her, gripped her elbows to her side, and kissed her +noisily. + +"I told you I was busy," she said. + +"You did, Emmelina," he responded. "I heard you say so, and how's +his Nibs?" + +The last remark was addressed to an object that was crawling towards +him with incoherent cries and gurgles of delight. Stooping down, +Tims picked up his eighteen-months-old son and held him aloft, +chuckling and mouthing his glee. + +"You'll drop him one of these days," said Mrs. Tims, "and then +there'll be a pretty hullaballoo." + +"Well, he's fat enough to bounce," was the retort. "Ain't you, +Jimmy?" + +Neither Tims nor Mrs. Tims seemed to be conscious that without +variations these same remarks had been made night after night, week +after week, month after month. + +"How's Mr. Sage?" was the question with which Mrs. Tims always +followed the reference to the bouncing of Jimmy. + +"Like Johnny Walker, still going strong," glibly came the reply, +just as it came every other night. "He was asking about you to-day," +added Tims. + +"About me?" Mrs. Tims turned, all attention, her cooking for the +time forgotten. + +"Yes, wanted to know when I was going to divorce you." + +"Don't be silly, Jim," she cried. "What did he say, really now?" she +added as she turned once more to the stove. + +"Oh! he just asked if you were well," replied Tims, more interested +in demonstrating with the person of his son how an aeroplane left +the ground than in his wife's question. + +"Anything else?" enquired Mrs. Tims, prodding a potato with a fork +to see if it was done. + +Tims was not deceived by the casual tone in which the question was +asked. He was wont to say that, if his wife wanted his back teeth, +she would get them. + +"Nothing, my dear, only to ask if his Nibs was flourishin'," and +with a gurgle of delight the aeroplane soared towards the ceiling. + +Mrs. Tims had not forgotten the time when Malcolm Sage visited her +several times when she was ill with pneumonia. She never tired of +telling her friends of his wonderful knowledge of household affairs. +He had talked to her of cooking, of childish ailments, of shopping, +in a way that had amazed her. His knowledge seemed universal. He had +explained to her among other things how cracknel biscuits were made +and why croup was so swift in its action. + +Tims vowed that the Chief had done her more good than the doctor, +and from that day Malcolm Sage had occupied chief place in Mrs. +Tims's valhalla. + +"Quaint sort o' chap, the Chief," Tims would remark sometimes in +connection with some professional episode. + +"Pity you're not as quaint," would flash back the retort from Mrs. +Tims, whose conception of loyalty was more literal than that of her +husband. + +Supper finished and his Nibs put to bed, Tims proceeded to enjoy his +pipe and evening paper, whilst Mrs. Tims got out her sewing. From +time to time Tims's eyes would wander over towards the telephone in +the corner. + +Finally he folded up the paper, and proceeded to knock out the ashes +from his pipe preparatory to going to bed. His eyes took a last look +at the telephone just as Mrs. Tims glanced up. + +"Don't sit there watching that telephone," she cried, "anyone would +think you were wanting----" + +"Brrrrrrr--brrrrrrr--brrrrrr," went the bell. + +"Now perhaps you're happy," cried Mrs. Tims as he rose to answer the +call, whilst she put on the kettle to make hot coffee to fill the +thermos flasks without which she never allowed the car to go out at +night. It was her tribute to "the Chief." + + + + +II + + +In his more expansive moments Malcolm Sage would liken himself to a +general practitioner in a diseased-infected district. It is true +that there was no speaking-tube, with its terrifying whistle, a few +feet from his head; but the telephone by his bedside was always +liable to arouse him from sleep at any hour of the night. + +As Tims had folded up his newspaper with a view to bed, Malcolm Sage +was removing his collar before the mirror on his dressing-table, +when his telephone bell rang. Rogers, his man, looked +interrogatingly at his master, who, shaking his head, passed over to +the instrument and took up the receiver. + +"Yes, this is Malcolm Sage--Speaking--Yes." Then for a few minutes +he listened with an impassive face. "I'll be off within ten +minutes--The Towers, Holdingham, near Guildford--I understand." + +While he was speaking, Rogers, a little sallow-faced man with +fish-like eyes and expressionless face, had moved over to the other +telephone and was droning in a monotonous, uninflected voice, "Chief +wants car in five minutes." + +It was part of Malcolm Sage's method to train his subordinates to +realise the importance of intelligent and logical inference. + +Returning to the dressing-table, Malcolm Sage took up another collar, +slipped a tie between the fold, and proceeded to put it on. + +As he did so he gave instructions to Rogers, who, note-book in hand, +and with an expression of indifference that seemed to say "Kismet," +silently recorded his instructions. + +"My address will be The Towers, Holdingham, near Guildford. Be on +the look-out for messages." + +Without a word Rogers closed the book and, picking up a suit-case, +which was always ready for emergencies, he left the room. Two +minutes later Malcolm Sage followed and, without a word, entered the +closed car that had just drawn up before his flat in the Adelphi. + +Rogers returned to the flat, switched the telephone on to his own +room, and prepared himself for the night, whilst Malcolm Sage, +having eaten a biscuit and drunk some of Mrs. Tims's hot coffee, lay +back to sleep as the car rushed along the Portsmouth road. + + + + +III + + +In the library at The Towers three men were seated, their faces +lined and drawn as if some great misfortune had suddenly descended +upon them; yet their senses were alert. They were listening. + +"He ought to be here any minute now," said Mr. Llewellyn John, the +Prime Minister, taking out his watch for the hundredth time. + +Sir Lyster Grayne, First Lord of the Admiralty, shook his head. + +"He should do it in an hour," said Lord Beamdale, the Secretary of +War, "if he's got a man who knows the road." + +"Sage is sure----" began Sir Lyster; then he stopped abruptly, and +turned in the direction of the further window. + +A soft tapping as of a finger-nail upon a pane of glass was clearly +distinguishable. It ceased for a few seconds, recommenced, then +ceased again. + +Mr. Llewellyn John looked first at Sir Lyster and then on towards +where Lord Beamdale sat, heavy of frame and impassive of feature. + +Sir Lyster rose and walked quickly over to the window. As he +approached the tapping recommenced. Swinging back the curtain he +disappeared into the embrasure. + +The others heard the sound of the window being raised and then +closed again. A moment later Malcolm Sage appeared, followed by Sir +Lyster, who once more drew the curtain. + +At the sight of Malcolm Sage, Mr. Llewellyn John's features relaxed +from their drawn, tense expression. A look of relief flashed +momentarily into Lord Beamdale's fish-like eyes. + +"Thank God you've come, Sage!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, with a sigh +of relief as he grasped Malcolm Sage's hand as if it had been a +lifebelt and he a drowning man. "I think you have met Lord +Beamdale," he added. + +Malcolm Sage bowed to the War Minister, then with great deliberation +removed his overcoat, carefully folded it, and placed it upon a +chair, laying his cap on top. He then selected a chair at the table +that gave him a clear view of the faces of the three Ministers, and +sat down. + +"Why did you come to the window?" enquired Sir Lyster, as he resumed +his own seat. "Did you know this was the library?" + +"I saw a crack of light between the curtains," replied Malcolm Sage. +"It may be desirable that no one should know I have been here," he +added. + +"Something terrible has happened, Sage," broke in the Prime Minister, +his voice shaking with excitement. He had with difficulty contained +himself whilst Malcolm Sage was taking off his overcoat and +explaining his reason for entering by the window. "It's--it's----" +His voice broke. + +"Perhaps Sir Lyster will tell me, or Lord Beamdale," suggested +Malcolm Sage, looking from one to the other. + +Lord Beamdale shook his head. + +"Just a bare outline, Sir Lyster," said Malcolm Sage, spreading out +his fingers before him. + +Slowly, deliberately, and with perfect self-possession, Sir Lyster +explained what had happened. + +"The Prime Minister and Lord Beamdale came down with me on Thursday +night to spend the weekend," he said. "Incidentally we were to +discuss a very important matter connected with this country's er-- +foreign policy." The hesitation was only momentary. "Lord Beamdale +brought with him a document of an extremely private nature. This I +had sent to him earlier in the week for consideration and comment. + +"If that document were to get to a certain Embassy in London no one +can foretell the calamitous results. It might even result in another +war, if not now certainly later. It was, I should explain, of a +private and confidential nature, and consequently quite frankly +expressed." + +"And you must remember----" began Mr. Llewellyn John excitedly. + +"One moment, sir," said Malcolm Sage quietly, without looking up +from an absorbed contemplation of a bronze letter-weight fashioned +in the form of a sphinx. + +Mr. Llewellyn John sank back into his chair, and Sir Lyster resumed. + +"Just over an hour and a half ago, that is to say soon after eleven +o'clock, it was discovered that the document in question was missing, +and in its place had been substituted a number of sheets of blank +paper." + +"Unless it's found, Sage," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, jumping up from +his chair in his excitement, "the consequences are too awful to +contemplate." + +For a few seconds he strode up and down the room, then returning to +his chair, sank back into its comfortable depths. + +"Where was the document kept?" enquired Malcolm Sage, his long, +sensitive fingers stroking the back of the sphinx. + +"In the safe," replied Sir Lyster, indicating with a nod a small +safe let into the wall. + +"You are in the habit of using it for valuable documents?" queried +Malcolm Sage. + +"As a matter of fact very seldom. It is mostly empty," was the reply. + +"Why?" + +"I have a larger safe in my dressing-room, in which I keep my papers. +During the day I occasionally use this to save going up and down +stairs." + +"Where do you keep the key?" + +"When there is anything in the safe I always carry it about with +me." + +"And at other times?" + +"Sometimes in a drawer in my writing-table," said Sir Lyster; "but +generally I have it on me." + +"When was the document put into the safe?" + +"At a quarter to eight to-night, just as the second dressing-gong +was sounding." + +"And you yourself put it in, locked the door, and have retained the +key ever since?" Malcolm Sage had exhausted the interest of the +sphinx and was now drawing diagrams with his forefinger upon the +morocco surface of the table. + +Sir Lyster nodded. + +"I put the key in the pocket of my evening vest when I changed," he +said. "After the other guests had retired, the Prime Minister raised +a point that necessitated reference to the document itself. It was +then I discovered the substitution." + +"But for that circumstance the safe would not have been opened until +when?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +"Late to-night, when I should have transferred the packet to the +safe in my dressing-room." + +"Would you have examined the contents?" + +"No. It is my rule to cut adrift from official matters from +dinner-time on Saturday until after breakfast on Monday. It was only +in deference to the Prime Minister's particular wish that we referred +to the document to-night." + +"I take it that the rule you mention is known to your guests and +servants?" + +"Certainly." + +"There is no doubt that it was the document itself that you put in +the safe?" + +"None; the Prime Minister and Lord Beamdale saw me do it." + +"No doubt whatever," corroborated Mr. Llewellyn John, whilst Lord +Beamdale wagged his head like a mandarin. + +"Does anyone else know that it is missing?" asked Malcolm Sage after +a short pause. + +Sir Lyster shook his head. + +"Only we three; and, of course, the thief," he added. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. He had tired of the diagrams, and now sat +stroking the back of his head. + +"Has anyone left the house since the discovery; that is, as far as +you know?" he queried at length. + +"No one," said Sir Lyster. + +"The servants, of course, have access to this room?" + +"Yes; but only Walters, my butler, is likely to come here in the +evening, except, of course, my secretary." + +"Where does he dine?" + +"Miss Blair," corrected Sir Lyster, "always takes her meals in her +own sitting-room, where she works. It is situated at the back of the +house on the ground floor." + +Again Malcolm Sage was silent, this time for a longer period. + +"So far as you know, then," he said at length, addressing Sir Lyster, +"only three people in the house were acquainted with the existence +of the document; you, the Prime Minister, and Lord Beamdale." + +Sir Lyster inclined his head. + +"You are certain of that?" Malcolm Sage looked up swiftly and keenly. +"Your secretary and Lady Grayne, for instance, they knew nothing +about it?" + +"Nothing; of that I am absolutely certain," replied Sir Lyster +coldly. + +"And the nature of the document?" enquired Malcolm Sa'ge. + +Sir Lyster looked across at Mr. Llewellyn John, who turned +interrogatingly to Lord Beamdale. + +"I am afraid it is of too private a nature to----" he hesitated. + +"If you require me to trace something," said Malcolm Sage evenly, +"you must at least tell me what that something is." + +"It is a document which----" began Lord Beamdale, then he, too, +paused. + +"But, surely, Sage," broke in Mr. Llewellyn John, "is it not +necessary to know the actual contents?" + +"If you had lost something and would not tell me whether it was a +dog or a diamond, would you expect me to find it?" + +"But----" began Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"I'm afraid we are wasting time, gentlemen," said Malcolm Sage, +rising. "I would suggest Scotland Yard. The official police must +work under any handicap imposed. I regret that I am unable to do +so." + +He walked across to the chair where lay his cap and coat. + +"Now, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John tactfully, "you mustn't let us +down, you really mustn't." Then turning to Sir Lyster, he said, "I +can see his point. If he doesn't know the nature of the document, he +cannot form a theory as to who is likely to have taken it. Perhaps +under the circumstances, Grayne, we might take Sage into our +confidence; at least to such extent as he thinks necessary." + +Sir Lyster made no response, whilst Lord Beamdale, whose economy in +words had earned for him the sobriquet of "Lord Dumbeam," sat with +impassive face. + +"Perhaps I can help you," said Malcolm Sage, still standing by the +chair on which lay his cap and coat. "At the end of every great war +the Plans Departments of the Admiralty and the War Office are busy +preparing for the next war. I suggest that this document was the +Admiralty draft of a plan of operations to be put into force in the +event of war occurring between this country and an extremely +friendly power. It was submitted to the War Office for criticism and +comment as far as land-operations were concerned. Another power, +unfriendly to the friendly power, would find in this document a very +valuable red-herring to draw across the path of its own +perplexities." + +"Good heavens!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, starting upright in his +chair. "How on earth did you know?" + +"It seems fairly obvious," said Malcolm Sage, as he returned to his +chair and resumed his stroking of the sphinx's back. "Who else knew +of the existence of the document?" he enquired. + +"No one outside the Admiralty and the War----" Sir Lyster stopped +suddenly. + +From the corridor, apparently just outside the library door, came +the sound of a suppressed scream, followed by a bump against the +woodwork. + +Rising and moving swiftly across the room, Sir Lyster threw open the +door, revealing a gap of darkness into which a moment later slid two +figures, a pretty, fair-haired girl and a wizened little Japanese +with large round spectacles and an automatic smile. + +"I'm so sorry, Sir Lysier," faltered the girl, as she stepped +timidly into the room, "but I was frightened. Someone had switched +off the lights and I ran into----" She turned to the Japanese, who +stood deprecating and nervous on the threshold. + +"I lose my passage," he said, baring his teeth still further; "I go +to find cigarette-case of my master. He leave it in beelyard-room. I +go----" + +With a motion of his hand, Sir Lyster dismissed the man, who slipped +away as if relieved at getting off so lightly. + +"You are up late, Miss Blair," he said coolly, turning to the girl. + +"I'm so sorry," she said; "but Lady Grayne gave me some letters, and +there was so much copying for you that----" She paused, then added +nervously, "I didn't know it was so late." + +"You had better go to bed, now," said Sir Lyster. + +With a charming smile she passed out, Sir Lyster closing the door +behind her. As he turned into the room his eye caught sight of the +chair in which Malcolm Sage had been sitting. + +"Where is Mr. Sage?" He looked from Mr. Llewellyn John to Lord +Beamdale. + +As he spoke Malcolm Sage appeared from the embrasure of the window +through which he had entered, and where he had taken cover as Sir +Lyster rose to open the door. + +"You see, Sage is not supposed to be here," explained Mr. Llewellyn +John. + +"Your secretary has an expensive taste in perfume," remarked Malcolm +Sage casually, as he resumed his seat. "It often characterises an +intensely emotional nature," he added musingly. + +"Emotional nature!" repeated Sir Lyster. "As a matter of fact she is +extremely practical and self-possessed. You were saying----" he +concluded with the air of a man who dismisses a trifling subject in +favour of one of some importance. + +"Diplomatists should be trained physiognomists," murmured Malcolm +Sage. "A man's mouth rarely lies, a woman's never." + +Sir Lyster stared. + +"Now," continued Malcolm Sage, "I should like to know who is staying +here." + +Sir Lyster proceeded to give some details of the guests and servants. +The domestic staff comprised twenty-one, and none had been in Sir +Lyster's employ for less than three years. They were all excellent +servants, of irreproachable character, who had come to him with good +references. Seventeen of the twenty-one lived in the house. There +were also four lady's-maids and five men-servants attached to the +guests. Among the men-servants was Sir Jeffrey Trawler's Japanese +valet. + +There was something in Sir Lyster's voice as he mentioned this fact +that caused Malcolm Sage to look up at him sharply. + +"The man you have just seen," Sir Lyster explained. "He has been the +cause of some little difficulty in the servants'-hall. They object +to sitting down to meals with a Chinaman, as they call him. + +"He seems intelligent?" remarked Malcolm Sage casually. + +"On the contrary, he is an extremely stupid creature," was the reply. +"He is continually losing himself. Only yesterday morning I myself +found him wandering about the corridor leading to my own bedroom. +Walters has also mentioned the matter to me." + +Sir Lyster then passed on to the guests. They comprised Mrs. Selton, +an aunt of Sir Lyster; Sir Jeffrey and Lady Trawlor, old friends of +their hostess; Lady Whyndale and her two daughters. There were also +Mr. Gerald Nash, M. P., and Mr. and Mrs. Richard Winnington, old +friends of Sir Lyster and Lady Grayne. + +"Later, I may require a list of the guests," said Malcolm Sage, when +Sir Lyster had completed his account. "You said, I think, that the +key of the safe was sometimes left in an accessible place?" + +"Yes, in a drawer." + +"So that anyone having access to the room could easily have taken a +wax impression." + +"Sir Lyster flushed slightly. + +"There is no one----" he began. + +"There is always a potential someone," corrected Malcolm Sage, +raising his eyes suddenly and fixing them full upon Sir Lyster. + +"The question is, Sage," broke in Mr. Llewellyn John tactfully, +"what are we to do?" + +"I should first like to see the inside of the safe and the dummy +packet," said Malcolm Sage, rising. "No, I will open it myself if +you will give me the key," he added, as Sir Lyster rose and moved +over to the safe. + +Taking the key, Malcolm Sage kneeled before the safe door and, by +the light of an electric torch, surveyed the whole of the surface +with keen-sighted eyes. Then placing the key in the lock he turned +it, and swung back the door, revealing a long official envelope as +the sole contents. This he examined carefully without touching it, +his head thrust inside the safe. + +"Is this the same envelope as that in which the document was +enclosed?" he enquired, without looking round. + +The three men had risen and were grouped behind Malcolm Sage, +watching him with keen interest. + +"It's the same kind of envelope, but----" began + +Sir Lyster, when Lord Beamdale interrupted. + +"It's the envelope itself," he said. "I noticed that the right-hand +top corner was bent in rather a peculiar manner." + +Malcolm Sage rose and, taking out the envelope, carefully examined +the damaged corner, which was bent and slightly torn. + +"Yes, it's the same," cried Mr. Llewellyn John. "I remember tearing +it myself when putting in the document." + +"How many leaves of paper were there?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"Eight, I think," replied Sir Lyster. + +"Nine," corrected Lord Beamdale. "There was a leaf in front blank +but for the words, 'Plans Department.'" + +"Have you another document from the same Department?" enquired +Malcolm Sage of Sir Lyster. + +"Several." + +"I should like to see one." + +Sir Lyster left the room, and Malcolm Sage removed the contents of +the envelope. Carefully counting nine leaves of blank white foolscap, +he bent down over the paper, with his face almost touching it. + +When Sir Lyster re-entered with another document in his hand Malcolm +Sage took it from him and proceeded to subject it to an equally +close scrutiny, holding up to the light each sheet in succession. + +"I suppose, Sir Lyster, you don't by any chance use scent?" enquired +Malcolm Sage without looking up. + +"Mr. Sage!" Sir Lyster was on his dignity. + +"I see you don't," was Malcolm Sage's calm comment as he resumed his +examination of the dummy document. Replacing it in the envelope, he +returned it to the safe, closed the door, locked it, and put the key +in his pocket. + +"Well! what do you make of it?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John eagerly. + +"We shall have to take the Postmaster-general into our confidence." + +"Woldington!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John in astonishment. "Why." + +Sir Lyster looked surprised, whilst Lord Beamdale appeared almost +interested. + +"Because we shall probably require his help." + +"How?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"Well, it's rather dangerous to tamper with His Majesty's mails +without the connivance of St. Martins-le-Grand," was the dry retort. + +"But----" began Mr. Llewellyn John, when suddenly he stopped short. + +Malcolm Sage had walked over to where his overcoat lay, and was +deliberately getting into it. + +"You're not going, Mr. Sage?" Sir Lyster's granite-like control +seemed momentarily to forsake him. "What do you advise us to do?" + +"Get some sleep," was the quiet reply. + +"But aren't you going to search for----?" He paused as Malcolm Sage +turned and looked full at him. + +"A search would involve the very publicity you are anxious to +avoid," was the reply. + +"But----" began Mr. Llewellyn John, when Malcolm Sage interrupted +him. + +"The only effective search would be to surround the house with +police, and allow each occupant to pass through the cordon after +having been stripped. The house would then have to be gone through; +carpets and boards pulled up; mattresses ripped open; chairs----" + +"I agree with Mr. Sage," said Sir Lyster, looking across at the +Prime Minister coldly. + +"Had I been a magazine detective I should have known exactly where +to find the missing document," said Malcolm Sage. "As I am not"--he +turned to Sir Lyster--"it will be necessary for you to leave a note +for your butler telling him that you have dropped somewhere about +the house the key of this safe, and instructing him to have a +thorough search made for it. You might casually mention the loss at +breakfast, and refer to an important document inside the safe which +you must have on Monday morning. Perhaps the Prime Minister will +suggest telephoning to town for a man to come down to force the safe +should the key not be found." + +Malcolm Sage paused. The others were gazing at him with keen +interest. + +"Leave the note unfolded in a conspicuous place where anyone can see +it," he continued. + +"I'll put it on the hall-table," said Sir Lyster. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"It is desirable that you should all appear to be in the best of +spirits." There was a fluttering at the corners of Malcolm Sage's +mouth, as he lifted his eyes for a second to the almost lugubrious +countenance of Lord Beamdale. "Under no circumstances refer to the +robbery, even amongst yourselves. Try to forget it." + +"But how will that help?" enquired Mr. Llewellyn John, whose nature +rendered him singularly ill-adapted to a walking-on part. + +"I will ask you, sir," said Malcolm Sage, turning to him, "to give +me a letter to Mr. Woldington, asking him to do as I request. I will +give him the details." + +"But why is it necessary to tell him?" demanded Sir Lyster. + +"That I will explain to you to-morrow. That will be Monday," +explained Malcolm Sage, "earlier if possible. A few lines will do," +he added, turning to Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"I suppose we must," said the Prime Minister, looking from Sir +Lyster to Lord Beamdale. + +"I hope to call before lunch," said Malcolm Sage, "but as Mr. Le +Sage from the Foreign Office. You will refuse to discuss official +matters until Monday. I shall probably ask you to introduce me to +everyone you can. It may happen that I shall disappear suddenly." + +"But cannot you be a little less mysterious?" said Sir Lyster, with +a touch of asperity in his voice. + +"There is nothing mysterious," replied Malcolm Sage. "It seems quite +obvious. Everything depends upon how clever the thief is." He looked +up suddenly, his gaze passing from one to another of the bewildered +Ministers. + +"It's by no means obvious to me," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, +complainingly. + +"By the way, Sir Lyster, how many cars have you in the garage?" +enquired Malcolm Sage. "In case we want them," he added. + +"I have two, and there are"--he paused for a moment--"five others," +he added; "seven in all." + +"Any carriages, or dog-carts?" + +"No. We have no horses." + +"Bicycles?" + +"A few of the servants have them," replied Sir Lyster, a little +impatiently. + +"The bicycles are also kept in the garage, I take it?" + +"They are." This time there was no mistaking the note of irritation +in Sir Lyster's voice. + +"There may be several messengers from Whitehall to-morrow," said +Malcolm Sage, after a pause. "Please keep them waiting until they +show signs of impatience. It is important. Whatever happens here, it +would be better not to acquaint the police--_whatever happens_," he +added with emphasis. "And now, sir"--he turned to Mr. Llewellyn +John--"I should like that note to the Postmaster-general." + +Mr. Llewellyn John sat down reluctantly at a table and wrote a note. + +"But suppose the thief hands the document to an accomplice?" said +Sir Lyster presently, with something like emotion in his voice. + +"That's exactly what I am supposing," was Malcolm Sage's reply and, +taking the note that Mr. Llewellyn John held out to him, he placed +it in his breast pocket, buttoned up his overcoat, and walked across +to the window through which he had entered. With one hand upon the +curtain he turned. + +"If I call you may notice that I have acquired a slight foreign +accent," he said, and with that he slipped behind the curtain. A +moment later the sound was heard of the window being quietly opened +and then shut again. + +"Well, I'm damned!" cried Lord Beamdale, and for the moment Mr. +Llewelyln John and Sir Lyster forgot their surprise at Malcolm +Sage's actions in their astonishment at their colleague's remark. + + + + +CHAPTER VII THE OUTRAGE AT THE GARAGE + + + + +I + + +When Mr. Walters descended the broad staircase of The Towers on the +Sunday morning he found two things to disturb him--Sir Lyster's note +on the hall-table, and the Japanese valet "lost" in the conservatory. + +He read the one with attention, and rebuked the other with acrimony. +Having failed to find the missing key himself, he proceeded to the +housekeeper's room, and poured into the large and receptive ear of +Mrs. Eames the story of his woes. + +"And this a Sunday too," the housekeeper was just remarking, in a +fat, comfortable voice, when Richards, the chauffeur, burst +unceremoniously into the room. + +"Someone's taken the pencils from all the magnetos," he shouted +angrily, his face moist with heat and lubricant. + +"Is that your only excuse for bursting into a lady's room without +knocking?" enquired Mr. Walters, with an austere dignity he had +copied directly from Sir Lyster. "If you apply to me presently I +will lend you a pencil. In the meantime----" + +"But it's burglars. They've broken into the garage and taken the +pencils from every magneto, every blinkin' one," he added by way of +emphasis. + +At the mention of the word "burglars," Mr. Walters's professional +composure of feature momentarily forsook him, and his jaw dropped. +Recovering himself instantly, however, he hastened out of the room, +closely followed by Richards, leaving Mrs. Eames speechless, the +oval cameo locket heaving up and down upon her indignant black-silk +bosom. A man had sworn in her presence and had departed unrebuked. + +On reaching the garage Mr. Walters gazed vaguely about him. He was +entirely unversed in mechanics, and Richards persisted in pouring +forth technicalities that bewildered him. The chauffeur also cursed +loudly and with inspiration, until reminded that it was Sunday, when +he lowered his voice, at the same time increasing the density of his +language. + +Mr. Walters was frankly disappointed. There, was no outward sign of +burglars. At length he turned interrogatingly to Richards. + +"Just a-goin' to tune 'em up I was," explained Richards for the +twentieth time, "when I found the bloomin' engines had gone whonky, +then----" + +"Found the engines had gone what?" enquired Mr. Walters. + +"Whonky, dud, na-poo," explained Richards illuminatingly, whilst Mr. +Walters gazed at him icily. "Then in comes Davies," he continued, +nodding in the direction of a little round-faced man, with +"chauffeur" written on every inch of him "and 'e couldn't get 'is +blinkin' 'arp to 'urn neither. Then we starts a-lookin' round, when +lo and _be_'old! what do we find? Some streamin', saturated son of +sin an' whiskers 'as pinched the ruddy pencils out of the scarlet +magnetos." + +"The float's gone from my carburettor." + +The voice came from a long, lean man who appeared suddenly out of +the shadows at the far-end of the garage. + +Without a word Richards and Davies dashed each to a car. A minute +later two yells announced that the floats from their carburettors +also had disappeared. + +Later Richards told how that morning he had found the door of the +garage unfastened, although he was certain that he had locked it the +night before. + +This was sufficient for Mr. Walters. Fleeing from the bewildering +flood of technicalities and profanity of the three chauffeurs, he +made his way direct to Sir Lyster's room. Here he told his tale, and +was instructed instantly to telephone to the police. + +At the telephone further trouble awaited him. He could get no reply +from the exchange. He tried the private wire to the Admiralty; but +with no better result. + +He accordingly reported the matter to Sir Lyster, who was by then +with Lord Beamdale in the library. It was the Minister of War who +reminded his host of Malcolm Sage's strange request that whatever +happened the police were not to be communicated with. + +"But Sage could not have anticipated this--this monstrous outrage," +protested Sir Lyster, white with anger. He had already imperiously +put aside Lord Beamdale's suggestion that the whole affair might be +a joke. + +"Still, better do as he said," was the rejoinder and, as later Mr. +Llewellyn John concurred, Sir Lyster decided to await the arrival of +Malcolm Sage before taking further steps. + +One by one the guests drifted down to breakfast, went out to the +garage to see for themselves, and then returned to discuss the +affair over coffee and kidneys, tea and toast. + +It subsequently transpired that without exception the cars had been +entirely put out of commission. From each the pencil had been +removed from the magneto, and the float from the carburettor. From +the bicycles the pedals had been taken away, with the exception of +those belonging to Miss Blair and one of the housemaids, the only +two ladies' machines in the place. + +"A veritable Claude Duval," someone remarked; but this brought +little consolation to the owners of the wrecked cars. It was a fine +day, too, which added to their sense of hardship. + +As Sir Lyster left the breakfast-room he encountered Miss Blair +crossing the hall. She looked very fresh and pretty, with a demure, +almost childlike expression of feature. Her cheeks were flushed with +health and exercise. + +"Would you like me to cycle over to Odford to the police?" she +enquired. "My machine is quite all right. I have just been for a +spin." + +"No--er--not at present, thank you, Miss Blair," said Sir Lyster, a +little embarrassed at having to refuse to do the obvious thing. He +passed across the hall into the library, and Miss Blair, having +almost fallen over the Japanese valet, "lost" in a corridor leading +to the billiard-room, went out to condole with Richards and tell +him of a strange epidemic of mishaps that seemed to have descended +upon the neighbourhood. She herself had passed a motor-cycle, two +push-bicycles, and a Ford car, all disabled by the roadside. + +All that morning the Prime Minister, Sir Lyster, and Lord Beamdale +waited and wondered. Finding the strain of trying to look cheerful +too much for them, they shut themselves up in the library on the +plea of pressing official business; this, in spite of Sir Lyster's +well-known week-end rule. + +Hour after hour passed; yet not only did Malcolm Sage fail to put in +an appearance, but nothing was heard or seen of the promised bogus +official messengers. + +At luncheon more than one guest remarked upon the distrait and +absent-minded appearance of the three Ministers, and deduced from +the circumstance a grave political crisis. + +The afternoon dragged its leaden course. Throughout the house there +was an atmosphere of unrest. Among themselves the guests complained +because no action had been taken to track down the despoiler of +their cars. Walters had rendered the lives of the domestic staff +intolerable by insisting upon search for the missing key being made +in the most unlikely and inaccessible places, although in his own +mind he was convinced that it had been stolen by the errant Japanese. + +In the library sat the three Ministers, for the most part gazing +either at one another or at nothing in particular. They were waiting +for something to happen: none knew quite what. + +Dinner passed, a dreary meal; the ladies withdrew to the +drawing-room; but still the heavy atmosphere of foreboding remained. +It was nearly half-past nine when Walters entered and murmured +something in Sir Lyster's ear. + +An eager light sprang into Mr. Llewellyn John's eyes as the First +Lord rose, made his apologies, and left the room. It was only by the +exercise of great self-control that the Prime Minister refrained +from jumping up and bolting after him. + +Two minutes later Walters again entered the dining-room, with a +request that Mr. Llewellyn John and Lord Beamdale would join Sir +Lyster in the library. + +As Walters threw open the library-door, they found Malcolm Sage +seated at the table, his fingers spread out before him, whilst Sir +Lyster stood by the fireplace. + +"Ask Miss Blair if she will come here to take down an important +letter, Walters," said Sir Lyster. + +"Well?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, as soon as Walters had closed the +door behind him. "Have you got it?" + +"The document is now in a strong-room at the General Post Office," +said Malcolm Sage without looking up. "I thought it would be safer +there." + +"Thank God!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, collapsing into a chair. + +Malcolm Sage glanced across at him and half rose. + +"I'm all right, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John; "but coming after +this awful day of anxiety, the news was almost too much for me." + +"Who took it from the safe then?" enquired Sir Lyster. "I----" he +stopped short as the door opened, and Miss Blair entered, notebook +in hand, looking very dainty in a simple grey frock, relieved by a +bunch of clove carnations at the waist. Closing the door behind her, +she hesitated for a moment, a smile upon her moist, slightly-parted +lips. + +"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Blair," began Sir Lyster, "but Mr. +Sage----" he paused. + +"It was Miss Blair who removed the document from the safe," said +Malcolm Sage quietly, his eyes bent upon the finger-tips of his +right hand. + +"Miss Blair!" cried Sir Lyster, his hand dropping from the +mantelpiece to his side. + +For the fraction of a second the girl stood just inside the door; +then as the significance of Malcolm Sage's words dawned upon her, +the smile froze upon her lips, the blood ebbed from her face, +leaving it drawn and grey, and the notebook dropped from her fingers. +She staggered forward a few steps, then, clutching wildly at the +edge of the table, she swayed from side to side. With an obvious +effort she steadied herself, her gaze fixed upon her accuser. + +Slowly Malcolm Sage raised his eyes, cold, grey, inflexible, and +fixed them upon the terrified girl. + +The three Ministers appeared not yet to have realised the true +nature of the drama being enacted before them. + +"Miss Blair," said Malcolm Sage quietly, "what are your relations +with Paul Cressit?" + +Twice she essayed to speak, but no sound came. + +"I--I--er--know him," she faltered at length. +"I wondered," said Malcolm Sage slowly. + +"What does this mean, Mr. Sage?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"I will tell you," said Malcolm Sage, whilst Lord Beamdale placed a +chair into which Miss Blair collapsed. "Last night whilst you were +at dinner Miss Blair opened your safe with a duplicate key made from +a wax impression. She abstracted a valuable document, putting in its +place some sheets of blank paper." He paused. + +"Go on," almost gasped Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"She took the document to her room and hid it, a little uncertain as +to how she should get it to her accomplice. This morning she saw Sir +Lyster's note on the hall-table, and emboldened by the thought that +the theft had not been discovered, she cycled out to Odford and +posted the document to Paul Cressit at his chambers in Jermyn +Street." Again Malcolm Sage paused and drew from his pocket a note. + +"In the envelope was enclosed this note." He handed to Mr. Llewellyn +John a half sheet of paper on which was typed: + +"Paul, dearest, I have done it. I will ring you up to-morrow. I +shall ask for Tuesday off. You will keep your promise, dear, and +save me, won't you? If you don't I shall kill myself.--G." + +"Miss Blair," said Sir Lyster coldly, "what have you to say?" + +"N-nothing," she faltered, striving to moisten her grey lips. + +"If you will tell the truth," said Malcolm Sage, "you still have a +chance. If not"; he paused significantly. + +She gulped noisily, striving to regain her power of speech. + +"You--you promise?" She looked across at Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"Whatever Mr. Sage says we endorse," he replied gravely. + +"Both of us?" she repeated. + +"Both," said Malcolm Sage. + +"I--I love him," she moaned; then after a pause she added: "It was +to save the disgrace. He promised, he swore he would if I did it." + +"Swore he would do what?" said Malcolm Sage. + +"Marry me." + +Malcolm Sage raised his eyes to Sir Lyster, who was standing +implacable and merciless. + +The girl's head had fallen forward upon the table, and her shoulders +were heaving convulsively. + +Rising, Malcolm Sage walked across and placed his hand upon her arm. + +"It will be better for everybody if you will try and control +yourself," he said gently, "and above all tell us the truth." + +As if surprised at the gentleness of his tone, she slowly raised her +drawn face and looked at him in wonder. + +"Now listen to me," continued Malcolm Sage, drawing up a chair and +seating himself beside her, "and tell me if I am wrong. Whilst you +were acting as Sir Lyster's secretary you met Paul Cressit at the +Admiralty, and you were attracted to him." + +She nodded, with a quick indrawing of her breath. + +"He made violent love to you and you succumbed. Later you took him +into your confidence in regard to a certain matter and he promised +to marry you. He put you off from time to time by various excuses. +You were almost distracted at the thought of the disgrace. He +persuaded you to take a wax impression of Sir Lyster's key, on the +chance of it one day being useful." + +Again she nodded, whilst the three men listened as if hypnotised. + +"Finally he swore that he would marry you if you would steal this +document, and he showed you a special license. Am I right?" + +She nodded again, and then buried her head in her arms. + +"I suppose," said Malcolm Sage quietly, "he did not happen to +mention that he was already married?" + +"Married!" She started up, her eyes blazing. "It isn't true, oh! it +isn't true," she cried. + +"I'm afraid it is," said Malcolm Sage, with feeling in his voice. + +With a moan of despair her head fell forward upon the table, and +hard dry sobs shook her frail body. + +"Miss Blair," said Malcolm Sage presently, when she had somewhat +regained her self-control, "my advice to you is to write out a full +confession and bring it to me at my office to-morrow morning. It is +your only chance: and now you must go to your room." + +He rose, assisted her to her feet, and led her to the door, which he +closed behind her. + +"That I think concludes the enquiry," he said, as he walked over to +the fireplace and, leaning against the mantelpiece, he began to fill +his pipe. "Unless," he added, turning to Mr. Llewellyn John, "you +would like to see Cressit." + +The Prime Minister looked across at Sir Lyster and then at Lord +Beamdale. Both shook their heads. + +"What we should like, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John, "is a little +information as to what has been happening." + +With great deliberation Malcolm Sage proceeded to light his pipe. +When it was drawing to his entire satisfaction, he turned to Mr. +Llewellyn John and, with the suspicion of a fluttering at the +corners of his mouth, remarked: + +"I hope you have not been inconvenienced about the telephone." + +"We could get no reply from the exchange," said Sir Lyster, "and the +wire to the Admiralty is out of order." + +"I had to disconnect you after I left this morning," said Malcolm +Sage quietly. "My chauffeur swarmed up one of the standards. +Incidentally he wrecked an almost new pair of breeches." + +"They'll have to go in the Naval Estimates," cried Mr. Llewellyn +John, who was feeling almost jovial now the tension of the past +twenty-four hours had been removed. + +"From the first," proceeded Malcolm Sage, "it was obvious that this +theft was planned either at the Admiralty or at the War Office." + +"That is absurd!" cried Sir Lyster with heat, whilst Lord Beamdale +leaned forward, his usually apathetic expression of indifference +giving place to one of keen interest. + +"I accepted the assurance that only three people in this house knew +of the existence of the document," Malcolm Sage proceeded, as if +there had been no interruption. "There was no object in any of those +three persons stealing that to which they had ready access." + +Lord Beamdale nodded his agreement with the reasoning. + +"Therefore," continued Malcolm Sage, "the theft must have been +planned by someone who knew about the document before it came here, +and furthermore knew that it was to be here at a certain time. To +confirm this hypothesis we have the remarkable circumstances that +the blank paper substituted for the original document was, in +quality and the number of sheets, identical with that of the +document itself." + +"Good," ejaculated Lord Beamdale, himself a keen mathematician. + +Mr. Llewellyn John and Sir Lyster exchanged glances. + +"It was almost, but not quite, obvious that the exchange had been +effected by a woman." + +"How obvious?" enquired Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"'Few women pass unperfumed to the grave,'" quoted Malcolm Sage. "I +think it was Craddock who said that," he added, and Mr. Llewellyn +John made a mental note of the phrase. + +"The handle of the safe door was corrugated, and the lacquer had +worn off, leaving it rough to the touch. When I kneeled down before +the safe it was not to examine the metal work, but to see if the +thief had left a scent." + +"A scent?" repeated Sir Lyster. + +"On the handle of the door there was a distinct trace of perfume, +very slight, but I have a keen sense of smell, although a great +smoker. On the document itself there was also evidence of a rather +expensive perfume, not unlike that used by Miss Blair. Furthermore, +it was bent in a rather peculiar manner, which might have resulted +from its being carried in the belt of a woman's frock. It might, of +course, have been mere chance," he added; "but the envelope did not +show a corresponding bend." + +Again Lord Beamdale nodded appreciatively. + +"Although several people have had an opportunity of taking a wax +impression of the key, the most likely were Miss Blair and Walters-- +that, however, was a side issue." + +"How?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"Because primarily we were concerned with making the criminal +himself or herself divulge the secret." + +"That's why you would not allow the loss to be made known," broke in +Mr. Llewellyn John. + +"The thief," continued Malcolm Sage, with a slight inclination of +his head, "would in all probability seize the first safe opportunity +of getting rid of the plunder." + +"But did you not suspect the Japanese?" broke in Lord Beamdale. + +"For the moment I ruled him out," said Malcolm Sage, "as I could not +see how it was possible for him to know about the existence of the +document in question, and furthermore, as he had been in the house +less than two days, there was no time for him to get a duplicate +key." + +"What did you do then?" queried Sir Lyster. + +"I motored back to town, broke in upon the Postmaster-general's +first sleep, set on foot enquiries at the Admiralty and War Office, +in the meantime arranging for The Towers to be carefully watched." +Malcolm Sage paused for a moment; then as none of his hearers spoke +he continued: + +"I had a number of people in the neighbourhood--motorists, cyclists, +and pedestrians. No one could have left the house and grounds +without being seen. + +"Miss Blair found the morning irresistible, and took an early spin +on her bicycle to Odford, where she posted a packet in a pillar-box +situated in a street that was apparently quite empty." + +"And you secured it?" enquired Mr. Lewellyn John, leaning forward +eagerly. + +"I'm afraid I quite spoilt the local postmaster's Sunday by +requesting that a pillar-box should be specially cleared, and +producing an authority from the Postmaster-general. After he had +telegraphed to head-quarters and received a reply confirming the +letter, he reluctantly acquiesced." + +"And it was addressed to this man Cressit?" enquired Sir Lyster. + +"Yes. He is a temporary staff-clerk in the Plans Department. +Incidentally he is something of a Don Juan, and the cost of living +has increased considerably, as you know, sir," he added, turning to +the Prime Minister. + +Mr. Llewellyn John smiled wanly. It was his political "cross," this +cost-of-living problem. + +"And what shall we do with him?" enquired Sir Lyster. "The +scoundrel," he added. + +"I have almost done with him as a matter of fact," said Malcolm Sage. + +"Done with him?" exclaimed Lord Beamdale. + +"I sent him a telegram in Miss Blair's name to be at Odford Station +to-night at seven: then I kidnapped him." + +"Good heavens, Sage I What do you mean?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, +with visions of the Habeas Corpus Act and possible questions in the +House, which he hated. + +"We managed to get him to enter my car, and then we went through +him--that is a phrase from the crook-world. We found upon him the +marriage certificate, and later I induced him to confess. I am now +going to take him back to my office, secure his finger-prints and +physical measurements, which will be of interest at Scotland Yard." + +"But we are not going to prosecute," said Mr. Llewellyn John +anxiously. + +"Mr. Paul Cressit will have forty-eight hours in which to leave the +country," said Malcolm Sage evenly. "He will not return, because +Scotland Yard will see that he does not do so. There will probably +be an application to you, sir," Malcolm Sage continued, turning to +Mr. Llewellyn John, "to confirm what I tell them." + +"Excellent!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John. "I congratulate you, Sage. +You have done wonders." + +"But I failed to understand your saying that you would be here this +morning," said Sir Lyster, "and under an assumed name with----" + +"A foreign accent," suggested Malcolm Sage. "The thief might have +been an old hand at the game, and too clever to fall into a rather +obvious trap. In that case I might have been forced, as a foreigner, +to salute the hands of all the ladies in the house. I learnt to +click my heels years ago in Germany." Again there was a suspicious +movement at the corners of Malcolm Sage's mouth. + +"But----" began Sir Lyster. + +"To identify the scent?" broke in Mr. Llewellyn John. + +Malcolm Sage inclined his read slightly. + +"The Foreign Office messengers?" queried Lord Beamdale. + +"I decided that pedestrians and cyclists would do as well. I merely +wanted the house watched. There were quite a number of casualties to +cars and bicycles in the neighbourhood," he added dryly. + +"But why did you cut us off from the telephone?" enquired Mr. +Llewellyn John. + +"The accomplice might have got through, and I could afford to take +no risks." + +"Well, you have done splendidly, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John +heartily, "and we are all greatly obliged. By the way, there's +another little problem awaiting you. Someone broke into the garage +last night and wrecked all the cars and bicycles----" + +"Except two," said Malcolm Sage. + +"Then you've heard." Mr. Llewellyn John looked at him in surprise. + +"The man who did it is in my car outside with Cressit." + +"You've got him as well?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John excitedly. "Sage, +you're a miracle of sagacity," he added, again mentally noting the +phrase. + +"The missing pencils, floats, and pedals you will find on the +left-hand side of the drive about half way down, under a laurel +bush," said Malcolm Sage quietly. + +"And who is this fellow who did this scandalous thing?" demanded Sir +Lyster. + +"My chauffeur." + +"Your chauffeur!" + +"I could not risk the thief having access to a fast car." + +"But what if this fellow Cressit refuses to go?" enquired Lord +Beamdale. + +"He won't," said Malcolm Sage grimly. "D.O.R.A. is still in +operation. I had to remind him of the fact." + +Malcolm Sage picked up his hat and coat and walked towards the door. + +"I must be going," he said. "I have still several things to attend +to. You won't forget about the plunder from the garage?" he added. + +"But what am I to do about Miss Blair?" asked Sir Lyster. + +"That's a question I think you will find answered in the Gospel of +St. Luke--the seventh chapter and I think the forty-seventh verse"; +and with that he was gone, leaving three Ministers gazing at one +another in dumb astonishment. + +Had a cynic been peeping into the library of The Towers a few +minutes later, he would have discovered three Cabinet Ministers +bending over a New Testament, which Sir Lyster had fetched from his +wife's boudoir, and the words they read were: "Wherefore I say unto +thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much." + +"Strange," murmured Lord Beamdale, "very strange," and the others +knew that he was referring not to the text, or to the unhappy girl-- +but to Malcolm Sage. + +"We are always surprised when we find Saul among the prophets," +remarked Mr. Llewellyn John, and he made a mental note of the phrase. +It might do for the "Wee Frees." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII GLADYS NORMAN DINES WITH THOMPSON + + + + +I + + +"Tommy," remarked Miss Gladys Norman one day as Thompson entered her +room through the glass-panelled door, "have you ever thought what I +shall do fifty years hence?" + +"Darn my socks," replied the practical Thompson. + +"I mean," she proceeded with withering deliberation, "what will +happen when I can't do the hundred in ten seconds?" + +Thompson looked at her with a puzzled expression. + +"My cousin Will says that if you can't do the hundred yards in ten +seconds you haven't an earthly," she explained. "It's been worrying +me. What am I to do when I'm old and rheumaticky and the Chief does +three on the buzzer? He's bound to notice it and he'll _look_." + +Malcolm Sage's "look" was a slight widening of the eyes as he gazed +at a delinquent. It was his method of conveying rebuke. That "look" +would cause Thompson to swear earnestly under his breath for the +rest of the day, whilst on Gladys Norman it had several distinct +effects, the biting of her lower lips, the snubbing of Thompson, the +merciless banging of her typewriter, and a self-administered rebuke +of "Gladys Norman, you're a silly little ass," being the most +noticeable. + +For a moment Thompson thought deeply, then with sudden inspiration +he said, "Why not move your table nearer his door?" + +"What a brain!" she cried, regarding him with mock admiration. "You +must have been waving it with Hindes' curlers. Yes," she added, "you +may take me out to dinner to-night, Tommy." + +Thompson was in the act of waving his hat wildly over his head when +Malcolm Sage came out of his room. For the fraction of a second he +paused and regarded his subordinates. + +"It's not another war, I hope," he remarked, and, without waiting +for a reply, he turned, re-entered his room and closed the door. + +Gladys Norman collapsed over her typewriter, where with heaving +shoulders she strove to mute her mirth with a ridiculous dab of pink +cambric. + +Thompson looked crestfallen. He had turned just in time to see +Malcolm Sage re-enter his room. + +Three sharp bursts on the buzzer brought Gladys Norman to her feet. +There was a flurry of skirt, the flash of a pair of shapely ankles, +and she disappeared into Malcolm Sage's room. + + + + +II + + +"It's a funny old world," remarked Gladys Norman that evening, as +she and Thompson sat at a sheltered table in a little Soho +restaurant. + +"It's a jolly nice old world," remarked Thompson, looking up from +his plate, "and this chicken is it." + +"Chicken first; Gladys Norman also ran," she remarked scathingly. + +Thompson grinned and returned to his plate. + +"Why do you like the Chief, Tommy?" she demanded. + +Thompson paused in his eating, resting his hands, still holding +knife and fork, upon the edge of the table. The suddenness of the +question had startled him. + +"If you must sit like that, at least close your mouth," she said +severely. + +Thompson replaced his knife and fork upon the plate. + +"Well, why _do_ you?" she queried. + +"Why do I what?" he asked. + +She made a movement of impatience. "Like the Chief, of course." Then +as he did not reply she continued: "Why does Tims like him, and the +Innocent, and Sir James, and Sir John Dene, and the whole blessed +lot of us? Why is it, Tommy, why?" + +Thompson merely gaped, as if she had propounded some unanswerable +riddle. + +"Why is it?" she repeated. Then as he still remained silent she +added, "There's no hurry, Tommy dear; just go on listening with your +mouth. I quite realise the compliment." + +"I'm blessed if I know," he burst out at last. "I suppose it's +because he's 'M.S.,'" and he returned to his plate. + +"Yes, but _why_ is it?" she persisted, as she continued mechanically +to crumble her bread. "That's what _I_ want to know; why is it?" + +Thompson looked at her a little anxiously. By nature he was inclined +to take things for granted, things outside his profession that is. + +"It's a funny old world, Tommikins," she repeated at length, picking +up her knife and fork, "funnier for some than for others." + +Thompson looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. There were +times when he found Gladys Norman difficult to understand. + +"For a girl, I mean," she added, as if that explained it. + +Thompson still stared. The remark did not strike him as illuminating. + +"It may be," she continued meditatively, "that I like doing things +for the Chief because he was my haven of refuge from a wicked world; +but that doesn't explain why you and Tims----" + +"Your haven of refuge!" repeated Thompson, making a gulp of a +mouthful, and once more laying down his knife and fork, as he looked +across at her curiously. + +"Before I went to the Ministry I had one or two rather beastly +experiences." She paused as if mentally reviewing some unpleasant +incident. + +"Tell me, Gladys." Thompson was now all attention. + +"Well, I once went to see a man in Shaftesbury Avenue who had +advertised for a secretary. He was a funny old bean," she added +reminiscently, "all eyes and no waist, and more curious as to +whether I lived alone, or with my people, than about my speeds. So I +told him my brother was a prize-fighter, and----" + +"But you haven't got a brother," broke in Thompson. + +"I told him that for the good of his soul, Tommy, and of the girls +who came after me," she added a little grimly. + +"It was funny," she continued after a pause. "He didn't seem a bit +eager to engage me after that. Said my speeds (which I hadn't told +him) were not good enough; but to show there was no ill-feeling he +tried to kiss me at parting. So I boxed his ears, slung his own +inkpot at him and came away. Oh! it's a great game, Tommy, played +slow," she added as an after-thought, and she hummed a snatch of a +popular fox-trot. + +"The swine!" + +Thompson had just realised the significance of what he had heard. +There was an ugly look in his eyes. + +"I then got a job at the Ministry of Economy and later at the +Ministry of Supply, and the Chief lifted me out by my bobbed hair +and put me into Department Z. That's why I call him my haven of +refuge. See, dearest?" + +"What's the name of the fellow in Shaftesbury Avenue?" demanded +Thompson, his thoughts centring round the incident she had just +narrated. + +"Naughty Tommy," she cried, making a face at them, "Mustn't get angry and +vicious. Besides," she added, "the Chief did for him." + +"You told him?" cried Thompson incredulously, his interest still +keener than his appetite. + +"I did," she replied airily, "and he dropped a hint at Scotland Yard. +I believe the gallant gentleman in Shaftesbury Avenue has something +more than a smack and an inky face to remember little Gladys by. He +doesn't advertise for secretaries now." + +Thompson gazed at her, admiration in his eyes. + +"But that doesn't explain why I always want to please the Chief, +does it?" she demanded. "In romance, the knight kills the villain +for making love to the heroine, and then gets down to the same dirty +work himself. Now the Chief ought to have been bursting with +volcanic fires of passion for me. He should have crushed me to his +breast with merciless force, I beating against his chest-protector +with my clenched fists. Finally I should have lain passive and +unresisting in his arms, whilst he covered my eyes, ears, nose and +'transformation' with fevered, passionate kisses; not pecks like +yours, Tommy; but the real thing with a punch in them." + +"What on earth----" began Thompson, when she continued. + +"There should have been a fearful tempest on the other side of his +ribs. I should----" + +"Don't talk rot, Gladys," broke in Thompson. + +"I'm not talking rot," she protested. "I read it all in a novel that +sells by the million." Then after a moment's pause she continued: + +"He saved me from the dragon; yet he doesn't even give me a box of +chocolates, and everybody in Whitehall knows that chocolates and +kisses won the war. When I fainted for him and he carried me into +his room, he didn't kiss me even then." + +"You wouldn't have known it if he had," was Thompson's comment. + +"Oh! wouldn't I?" she retorted. "That's all you know about girls, Mr. +Funny Thompson." + +He stared across at her, blinking his eyes in bewilderment. + +"He doesn't take me out to dinner as other chiefs do," she +continued; "yet I hop about like a linnet when he buzzes for me. Why +is it?" + +She gazed across at Thompson challengingly. + +A look of anxiety began to manifest itself upon his good-natured +features. Psycho-analysis was not his strong point. In a vague way +he began to suspect that Gladys Norman's devotion to Malcolm Sage +was not strictly in accordance with Trade Union principles. + +"There, get on with your chicken, you poor dear," she laughed, and +Thompson, picking up his knife and fork, proceeded to eat +mechanically. From time to time he glanced covertly across at Gladys. + +"As to the Chief's looks," she continued, "his face is keen and taut, +and he's a strong, silent man; yet can you see his eyes hungry and +tempestuous, Tommy? I can't. Why is it," she demanded, "that when a +woman writes a novel she always stunts the strong, silent man?" + +Thompson shook his head, with the air of a man who has given up +guessing. + +"Imagine getting married to a strong, silent man," she continued, +"with only his strength and his silence, and perhaps a cheap +gramophone, to keep you amused in the evenings." She shuddered. +"No," she said with decision, "give me a regular old rattle-box +without a chin, like you, Tommy." + +Mechanically Thompson's hand sought his chin, and Gladys laughed. + +"Anyway, I'm not going to marry, in spite of the tube +furniture-posters. Uncle Jake says it's all nonsense to talk about +marriages being made in heaven; they're made in the Tottenham Court +Road." + +Thompson had, however, returned to his plate. In her present mood, +Gladys Norman was beyond him. Realising the state of his mind, she +continued: + +"He's got a head like a pierrot's cap and it's as bald as a +fivepenny egg, when it ought to be beautifully rounded and covered +with crisp curly hair. He wears glasses in front of eyes like bits +of slate, when they ought to be full of slumbrous passion. His jaw +is all right, only he doesn't use it enough; in books the strong, +silent man is a regular old chin-wag, and yet I fall over myself to +answer his buzzer. Why it is, I repeat?" She looked across at him +mischievously, enjoying the state of depression to which she had +reduced him. + +Thompson merely shook his head. + +"For all that," she continued, picking up her own knife and fork, +which in the excitement of describing Malcolm Sage she had laid down, +"for all that he would make a wonderful lover--once you could get +him started," and she laughed gleefully as if at some hidden joke. + +Thompson gazed at her over a fork piled with food, which her remark +had arrested half-way to his mouth. + +"He's chivalrous," she continued. "Look at the way he always tries +to help up the very people he has downed. It's just a game with +him----" + +"No, it's not," burst out Thompson, through a mouthful of chicken +and saute potato. + +She gave him a look of disapproval that caused him to swallow +rapidly. + +"The Chief doesn't look on it as a game," he persisted. "He's out to +stop crime and----" + +"But that's not the point," she interrupted. "What I want to know is +why do I bounce off my chair like an india-rubber ball when he +buzzes?" she demanded relentlessly. "Why do I want to please him? +Why do I want to kick myself when I make mistakes? Why--Oh! Tommy," +she broke off, "if you only had a brain as well as a stomach," and +she looked across at him reproachfully. + +"Perhaps it's because he never complains," suggested Thompson, as he +placed his knife and fork at the "all clear" angle, and leaned back +in his chair with a sigh of contentment. + +"You don't complain, Tommy," she retorted; "but you could buzz +yourself to blazes without getting me even to look up." + +For fully a minute there was silence; Gladys Norman continued to +gaze down at the debris to which she had reduced her roll. + +"No," she continued presently, "there is something else. I've +noticed the others; they're just the same." She paused, then +suddenly looking across at him she enquired, "What is loyalty, +Tommy?" + +"Standing up and taking off your hat when they play 'God Save the +King,'" he replied glibly. + +She laughed, and deftly flicked a bread pill she had just +manufactured, catching Thompson beneath the left eye and causing him +to blink violently. + +"You're a funny old thing," she laughed. "You know quite well what I +mean, only you're too stupid to realise it. Look at the Innocent-- +for him the Chief is the only man in all the world. Then there's +Tims. He'd get up in the middle of the night and drive the Chief to +blazes, and hang the petrol. Then there's you and me." + +Thompson drew a cigarette-case from his pocket. + +"I _think_ I know why it is," she said, nodding her pretty head +wisely. She paused, and as Thompson made no comment she continued: +"It's because he's human, warm flesh and blood." + +"But when I'm warm flesh and blood," objected Thompson, with +corrugated brow, "you tell me not to be silly." + +"Your idea of warmth, my dear man, was learnt on the upper reaches +of the Thames after dark," was the scathing retort. + +"Yes, but----" he began, when she interrupted him. + +"Look what he did for Miss Blair. Had her at the office and then-- +then--looked after her." + +"And afterwards got her a job," remarked Thompson. "But that's just +like the Chief," he added. + +"Where did you meet him first, Tommy?" she enquired, as she leaned +forward slightly to light her cigarette at the match he held out to +her. + +"In a bath," was the reply, as Thompson proceeded to light his own +cigarette. + +"You're not a bit funny," she retorted. + +"But it was," he persisted. + +"Was what?" + +"In a bath. He hadn't had one before and----" + +"Not had a bath!" she cried. "If you try to pull my leg like that, +Tommy, you'll ladder my stockings." + +"But I'm not," protested Thompson. "I met the Chief in a Turkish +bath, and he went into the hottest room and crumpled, so I looked +after him, and that's how I got to know him." + +"Of course, you couldn't have happened to mention that it was a +_Turkish_ bath, Tommy, could you?" she said. "That wouldn't be you +at all. But what makes him do things like he did for Miss Blair?" + +"I suppose because he's the Chief," was Thompson's reply. + +Gladys Norman sighed elaborately. "There are moments, James +Thompson," she said, "when your conversation is almost inspiring," +and she relapsed into silence. + +For the last half-hour Thompson had been conscious of a feeling of +uneasiness. It had first manifested itself when he was engaged upon +a lightly grilled cutlet; had developed as he tackled the lower +joint of a leg of chicken; and become an alarming certainty when he +was half-way through a plate of apple tart and custard. Gladys +Norman's interest in Malcolm Sage had become more than a secretarial +one. + +Mentally he debated the appalling prospect. By the time coffee was +finished he had reached an acute stage of mental misery. Suddenly +life had become, not only tinged, but absolutely impregnated with +wretchedness. + +It was not until they had left the restaurant and were walking along +Shaftesbury Avenue that he summoned up courage to speak. + +"Gladys," he said miserably, "you're not----" then he paused, not +daring to put into words his thought. + +"He's so magnetic, so compelling," she murmured dreamily. "He knows +so much. Any girl might----" + +She did not finish the sentence; but stole a glance at Thompson's +tragic face. + +They walked in silence as far as Piccadilly Circus, then in the +glare of light she saw the misery of his expression. + +"You silly old thing," she laughed, as she slipped her arm through +his. "You funny old thing," and she laughed again. + +That laugh was a Boddy lifebelt to the sinking heart of Thompson. + + + + +CHAPTER IX THE HOLDING UP OF LADY GLANEDALE + + + + +I + + +"More trouble, Tommy," remarked Gladys Norman one morning as James +Thompson entered her room. He looked across at her quickly, a keen +flash of interest in his somnolent brown eyes. + +"Somebody's pinched Lady Glanedale's jewels. Just had a telephone +message. What a happy place the world would be without drink and +crime----" + +"And women," added Thompson, alert of eye, and prepared to dodge +anything that was coming. + +"Tommy, you're a beast. Get thee hence!" and, bending over her +typewriter, she became absorbed in rattling words on to paper. + +Thompson had just reached the third line of "I'm Sorry I Made You +Cry," when his quick eye detected Malcolm Sage as he entered the +outer office. + +With a brief "Good morning," Malcolm Sage passed into his room, and +a minute later Gladys Norman was reading from her note-book the +message that had come over the telephone to the effect that early +that morning a burglar had entered Lady Glanedale's bedroom at the +Home Park, Hyston, the country house of Sir Roger Glanedale, and, +under threat from a pistol, had demanded her jewel-case, which she +had accordingly handed to him. + +As the jewels were insured with the Twentieth Century Insurance +Corporation, Ltd., Malcolm Sage had been immediately communicated +with, that he might take up the enquiry with a view to tracing the +missing property. + +One of Malcolm Sage's first cases had been undertaken for this +company in connection with a burglary. He had been successful in +restoring the whole of the missing property. In consequence he +had been personally thanked by the Chairman at a fully attended +Board Meeting, and at the same time presented with a gold-mounted +walking-stick, which, as he remarked to Sir John Dene, no one but +a drum-major in full dress would dare to carry. + +Having listened carefully as she read her notes, Malcolm Sage +dismissed Gladys Norman with a nod, and for some minutes sat at his +table drawing the inevitable diagrams upon his blotting pad. +Presently he rose, and walked over to a row of shelves filled with +red-backed volumes, lettered on the back "Records," with a number +and a date. + +Every crime or curious occurrence that came under Malcolm Sage's +notice was duly chronicled in the pages of these volumes, which +contained miles of press-cuttings. They were rendered additionally +valuable by an elaborate system of cross-reference indexing. + +After referring to an index-volume, Malcolm Sage selected one of the +folios, and returned with it to his table. Rapidly turning over the +pages he came to a newspaper-cutting, which was dated some five +weeks previously. This he read and pondered over for some time. It +ran: + +DARING BURGLARY +Country Mansion Entered +Burglar's Sang-froid + +In the early hours of yesterday morning a daring burglary was +committed at the Dower House, near Hyston, the residence of Mr. +Gerald Comminge, who was away from home at the time, by which the +burglar was able to make a rich haul of jewels. + +In the early hours of the morning Mrs. Comminge was awakened by the +presence of a man in her room. As she sat up in bed, the man turned +an electric torch upon her and, pointing a revolver in her direction, +warned her that if she cried out he would shoot. He then demanded to +know where she kept her jewels, and Mrs. Comminge, too terrified to +do anything else, indicated a drawer in which lay her jewel-case. + +Taking the jewel-case and putting it under his arm, the man +threatened that if she moved or called out within a quarter of an +hour he would return and shoot her. He then got out of the window on +to a small balcony and disappeared. + +It seems that he gained admittance by clambering up some ivy and +thus on to the narrow balcony that runs the length of one side of +the house. + +Immediately on the man's disappearance, Mrs. Comminge fainted. On +coming to she gave the alarm, and the police were immediately +telephoned for. Although the man's footprints are easily discernible +upon the mould and the soft turf, the culprit seems to have left no +other clue. + +The description that Mrs. Comminge is able to give of her assailant +is rather lacking in detail, owing to the shock she experienced at +his sudden appearance. It would appear that the man is of medium +height and slight of build. He wore a cap and a black handkerchief +tied across his face just beneath his eyes, which entirely masked +his features. With this very inadequate description of the ruffian +the police have perforce to set to work upon the very difficult task +of tracing him. + +For some time Malcolm Sage pondered over the cutting, then rising he +replaced the volume and rang for Thompson. + +An hour later Tims was carrying him along in the direction of Sir +Roger Glanedale's house at a good thirty-five miles an hour. + +The Home Park was an Elizabethan mansion that had been acquired by +Sir Roger Glanedale out of enormous profits made upon the sale of +margarine. As Tims brought the car up before the front entrance with +an impressive sweep, the hall-door was thrown open by the butler, +who habitually strove by an excessive dignity of demeanour to remove +from his mental palate the humiliating flavour of margarine. + +Malcolm Sage's card considerably mitigated the impression made upon +Mr. Hibbs's mind by the swing with which Tims had brought the car up +to the door. + +Malcolm Sage was shown into the morning-room and told that her +ladyship would see him in a few minutes. He was busy in the +contemplation of the garden when the door opened and Lady Glanedale +entered. + +He bowed and then, as Lady Glanedale seated herself at a small table, +he took the nearest chair. + +She was a little woman, some eight inches too short for the air she +assumed, fair, good-looking; but with a hard, set mouth. No one had +ever permitted her to forget that she had married margarine. + +"You have called about the burglary?" she enquired, in a tone she +might have adopted to a plumber who had come to see to a leak in the +bath. + +Malcolm Sage bowed. + +"Perhaps you will give me the details," he said. "Kindly be as brief +as possible," his "incipient Bolshevism" manifesting itself in his +manner. + +Lady Glanedale elevated her eyebrows; but, as Malcolm Sage's eyes +were not upon her, she proceeded to tell her story. + +"About one o'clock this morning I was awakened to find a man in my +bedroom," she began. "He was standing between the bedstead and the +farther window, his face masked. He had a pistol in one hand, which +he pointed towards me, and an electric torch in the other. I sat up +in bed and stared at him. 'If you call out I shall kill you,' he +said. I asked him what he wanted. He replied that if I gave him my +jewel-case and did not call for help, he would not do me any harm. + +"Realising that I was helpless, I got out of bed, put on a wrapper, +opened a small safe I have set in the wall, and handed him one of +the two jewel-cases I possess. + +"He then made me promise that I would not ring or call out for a +quarter of an hour, and he disappeared out of the window. + +"At the end of a quarter of an hour I summoned help, and my stepson, +the butler, and several other servants came to my room. We +telephoned for the police, and after breakfast we telephoned to the +insurance company." + +For fully a minute there was silence. Malcolm Sage decided that +Lady Glanedale certainly possessed the faculty of telling a story +with all the events in their proper sequence. He found himself with +very few questions to put to her. + +"Can you describe the man?" he asked as he mechanically turned over +the leaves of a book on a table beside him. + +"Not very well," she replied. "I saw little more than a silhouette +against the window. He was of medium height, slight of build and I +should say young." + +"That seems to agree with the description of the man who robbed Mrs. +Comminge," he said as if to himself. + +"That is what the inspector said," remarked Lady Glanedale. + +"His voice?" + +"Was rather husky, as if he were trying to disguise it." + +"Was it the voice of a man of refinement or otherwise?" + +"I should describe it as middle-class," was the snobbish response. + +"The mask?" + +"It looked like a silk handkerchief tied across his nose. It was +dark in tone; but I could get only a dim impression." + +Malcolm Sage inclined his head comprehendingly. + +"You know Mrs. Comminge?" + +"Intimately." + +"You mentioned two jewel-cases," he said. + +"The one stolen contained those I mostly wear," replied Lady +Glanedale; "in the other I keep some very valuable family jewels." + +"What was the value of those stolen?" + +"About 8,000 pounds," she replied, "possibly more. I should explain, +perhaps, that Sir Roger was staying in town last night, and so far I +have not been able to get him on the telephone. He was to have +stayed at the Ritzton; but apparently he found them full and went +elsewhere." + +"You have no suspicion as to who it was that entered your room?" + +"None whatever," said Lady Glanedale. + +"The police have already been?" he enquired, as he examined with +great intentness a rose he had taken from a bowl beside him. + +"Yes, they came shortly after we telephoned. They gave instructions +that nothing was to be touched in the room, and no one was to go +near the ground beneath the windows." + +Malcolm Sage nodded approvingly, and returned the rose to the bowl. + +"And now," he said, "I think I should like to see the room. By the +way, I take it that you keep your safe locked?" + +"Always," said Lady Glanedale. + +"Where do you keep the key?" + +"In the bottom right-hand drawer of my dressing-table, under a pile +of handkerchiefs." + +"As soon as you can I should like to see a list of the jewels," said +Malcolm Sage, as he followed Lady Glanedale towards the door. + +"My maid is copying it out now," she replied, and led the way up the +staircase, along a heavily-carpeted corridor, at the end of which +she threw open a door giving access to a bedroom. + +Malcolm Sage entered and gave a swift look about him, seeming to +note and catalogue every detail. It was a large room, with two +windows looking out on to a lawn. On the right was a door, which, +Lady Glanedale explained, led to Sir Roger's dressing-room. + +He walked over to the window near the dressing-room and looked out. + +"That is the window he must have entered by; he went out that way," +explained Lady Glanedale. + +"You spoke of a stepson," said Malcolm Sage. "He is a man, I +presume?" + +"He is twenty-three." Lady Glanedale elevated her eyebrows as if +surprised at the question. + +"Can you send for him?" + +"Certainly, if you wish it." She rang the bell, and a moment later +requested the maid who answered it to ask Mr. Robert to come +immediately. + +"Do you sleep with lowered blinds?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"The one nearest my bed I always keep down; the other I pull up +after putting out my light." + +"Did you awaken suddenly, or gradually--as if it were your usual +time to awaken?" + +"It was gradual," said Lady Glanedale, after a pause for thought. "I +remember having the feeling that someone was looking at me." + +"Was the light from the torch shining on your face?" + +"No, it was turned to the opposite side of the room, on my right as +I lay in bed." + +At that moment a young man in tweeds entered. + +"You want me, Mater?" he enquired; then, looking across at Malcolm +Sage with a slightly troubled shadow in his eyes, he bowed. + +"This is Mr. Sage from the insurance company," said. Lady Glanedale +coldly. "He wishes to see you." + +Again there was the slightly troubled look in young Glanedale's eyes. + +"Perhaps you will place Mr. Glanedale in the exact position in which +the man was standing when you first saw him," said Malcolm Sage. + +Without a word Lady Glanedale walked over to the spot she had +indicated, young Glanedale following. When she had got him into the +desired position she turned interrogatingly to Malcolm Sage. + +"Now," he said, "will you be so kind as to lie on your bed in the +same position in which you were when you awakened." + +For a moment Lady Glanedale's eyebrows indicated surprise. She used +her eyebrows more than any other feature for the purpose of +expressing emotion. Without comment, however, she lay down upon the +bed on her right side, closed her eyes, then a moment later sat up +and gazed in the direction where Glanedale stood looking awkward and +self-conscious. + +"Perhaps you will repeat every movement you made," said Malcolm Sage. +"Try to open the safe-door exactly as you did then, and leave it at +the same angle. Every detail is important." + +Lady Glanedale rose, picked up a wrapper that was lying over a +chair-back, put it on and, walking over to the safe, turned the key +that was in the lock, and opened it. Then, standing between the safe +and Glanedale, she took out a jewel-case and closed the door. +Finally she walked over to where her stepson stood, and handed him +the jewel-case. + +"Thank you," said Malcolm Sage. "I wanted to see whether or not the +man had the opportunity of seeing into the safe." + +"I took care to stand in front of it," she said. + +"So I observed. You allowed the quarter of an hour to elapse before +you raised the alarm?" + +"Certainly, I had promised," was the response. + +"But a promise extorted by threats of violence is not binding," he +suggested as he pulled meditatively at his right ear. + +"It is with me," was the cold retort. + +He inclined his head slightly. + +"I notice that the ground beneath the windows has been roped off." + +"The inspector thought it had better be done, as there were +footprints." + +"I will not trouble you further for the present, Lady Glanedale," +said Malcolm Sage, moving towards the door. "I should like to spend +a little time in the grounds. Later I may require to interrogate the +servants." + +Young Glanedale opened the door and his stepmother, followed by +Malcolm Sage, passed out. They descended the stairs together. + +"Please don't trouble to come out," said Malcolm Sage. "I shall +probably be some little time," this as Lady Glanedale moved towards +the hall-door. "By the way," he said, as she turned towards the +morning-room where she had received him, "did you happen to notice +if the man was wearing boots, or was he in stockinged feet?" + +"I think he wore boots, she said, after a momentary pause. + +"Thank you," and Malcolm Sage turned towards the door, which was +held open by the butler. + +Passing down the steps and to the left, he walked round to the side +of the house, where the space immediately beneath Lady Glanedale's +windows had been roped off. + +Stepping over the protecting rope, he examined the ground beneath +the window through which the burglar had entered. + +Running along the side of the house was a flowerbed some two feet +six inches wide, and on its surface was clearly indicated a series +of footprints. On the side of the painted water-pipe were scratches +such as might have been made by someone climbing up to the window +above. + +Drawing a spring metal-rule from his pocket, he proceeded to take a +series of measurements, which he jotted down in a notebook. + +He next examined the water-pipe up which the man presumably had +climbed, and presently passed on to a similar pipe farther to the +left. Every inch of ground he subjected to a careful and elaborate +examination, lifting the lower branches of some evergreens and +gazing beneath them. + +Finally, closing his notebook with a snap, Malcolm Sage seated +himself upon a garden-seat and, carefully filling and lighting his +pipe, he became absorbed in the polished pinkness of the third +fingernail of his left hand. + +A quarter of an hour later he was joined by young Glanedale. + +"Found anything?" he enquired. + +"There are some footprints," said Malcolm Sage, looking at him +keenly. "By the way, what did you do when you heard of the robbery?" + +"I went to the Mater's room." + +"And after that?" + +"I rushed downstairs and started looking about." + +"You didn't happen to come anywhere near this spot, or walk upon the +mould there?" He nodded at the place he had just been examining. + +"No; as a matter of fact, I avoided it. The Mater warned me to be +careful." + +Malcolm Sage nodded his head. + +"Did the butler join you in your search?" he enquired. + +"About five minutes later he did. He had to go back and put on some +things; he was rather sketchy when he turned up in the Mater's +room." Glanedale grinned at the recollection. + +"And you?" Malcolm Sage flashed on him that steel grey look of +interrogation. For a moment the young man seemed embarrassed, and he +hesitated before replying. + +"As a matter of fact, I hadn't turned in," he said at length. + +"I see," said Malcolm Sage, and there was something in his tone that +caused Glanedale to look at him quickly. + +"It was such a rippin' night that I sat at my bedroom window +smoking," he explained a little nervously. + +"Which is your bedroom window?" + +Glanedale nodded in the direction of the farther end of the house. + +"That's the governor's dressing-room," he said, indicating the +window on the left of that through which the burglar had escaped, +"and the next is mine." + +"Did you see anything?" enquired Malcolm Sage, who, having unscrewed +the mouthpiece of his pipe, proceeded to clean it with a blade of +grass. + +Again there was the slightest suggestion of hesitation before +Glanedale replied. + +"No, nothing. You see," he added hastily, "I was not looking out of +the window, merely sitting at it. As a matter of fact, I was facing +the other way." + +"You heard no noise?" + +Glanedale shook his head. + +"So that the first intimation you had of anything being wrong was +what?" he asked. + +"I heard the Mater at her door calling for assistance, and I went +immediately." + +Malcolm Sage turned and regarded the water-pipe speculatively. + +"I wonder if anyone really could climb up that," he said. "I'm sure +I couldn't." + +"Nothing easier," said Glanedale. "I could shin up in two ticks," +and he made a movement towards the pipe. + +"No," said Malcolm Sage, putting a detaining hand upon his arm. "If +you want to demonstrate your agility, try the other. There are marks +on this I want to preserve." + +"Right-o," cried Glanedale with a laugh, and a moment later he was +shinning up the further pipe with the agility of a South Sea +islander after coker-nuts. + +Malcolm Sage walked towards the pipe, glanced at it, and then at the +footprints beneath. + +"You were quite right," he remarked casually. Then a moment later he +enquired: + +"Do you usually sit up late?" + +"We're not exactly early birds," Glanedale replied a little +irrelevantly. "The Mater plays a lot of bridge, you know," he added. + +"And that keeps you out of bed?" + +"Yes and no," was the reply. "I can't afford to play with the +Mater's crowd; but I have to hang about until after they've gone. +The governor hates it. You see," he added confidentially, "when a +man's had to make his money, he knows the value of it." + +"True," said Malcolm Sage, but from the look in his eyes his +thoughts seemed elsewhere. + +"By the way, what time was it that you had a shower here last +night?" + +"A shower?" repeated Glanedale. "Oh! yes, I remember, it was just +about twelve o'clock; it only lasted about ten minutes." + +"I'll think things over," said Malcolm Sage, and Glanedale, taking +the hint, strolled off towards the house. + +Malcolm Sage walked over to where an old man was trimming a hedge. + +"Could you lend me a trowel for half an hour?" he enquired. + +"No, dang it, I can't," growled the old fellow. "I ain't a-going to +lend no more trowels or anything else." + +"Why?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"There's my best trowel gone out of the tool-house," he grumbled, +"and I ain't a-going to lend no others." + +"How did it go?" + +"How should I know?" he complained. "Walked out, I suppose, same as +trowels is always doin'." + +"When did you miss it?" + +"It was there day 'fore yesterday I'll swear, and I ain't a-going to +lend no more." + +"Do you think the man who took the jewels stole it?" enquired +Malcolm Sage. + +"Dang the jools," he retorted, "I want my trowel," and, grumbling to +himself, the old fellow shuffled off to the other end of the hedge. + +Half an hour later Malcolm Sage was in Hyston, interviewing the +inspector of police, who was incoherent with excitement. He learned +that Scotland Yard was sending down a man that afternoon, +furthermore that elaborate enquiries were being made in the +neighbourhood as to any suspicious characters having recently been +seen. + +Malcolm Sage asked a number of questions, to which he received more +or less impatient replies. The inspector was convinced that the +robbery was the work of the same man who had got away with Mrs. +Comminge's jewels, and he was impatient with anyone who did not +share this view. + +From the police station Malcolm Sage went to The Painted Flag, where, +having ordered lunch, he got through to the Twentieth Century +Insurance Corporation, and made an appointment to meet one of the +assessors at Home Park at three o'clock. + + + + +CHAPTER X A LESSON IN DEDUCTION + + + + +I + + +Mr. Grimwood, of the firm of Grimwood, Galton & Davy, insurance +assessors, looked up from the list in his hand. He was a shrewd +little man, with side-whiskers, pince-nez that would never sit +straight upon his aquiline nose, and an impressive cough. + +He glanced from Malcolm Sage to young Glanedale, then back again to +Malcolm Sage; finally he coughed. + +The three men were seated in Sir Roger Glanedale's library awaiting +the coming of Lady Glanedale. + +"And yet Mr. Glanedale heard nothing," remarked Mr. Grimwood +musingly. "Strange, very strange." + +"Are you in the habit of sitting smoking at your bedroom window?" +enquired Malcolm Sage of Glanedale, his eyes averted. + +"Er--no, not exactly," was the hesitating response. + +"Can you remember when last you did such a thing?" was the next +question. + +"I'm afraid I can't," said Glanedale, with an uneasy laugh. + +"Perhaps you had seen something that puzzled you," continued Malcolm +Sage, his restless fingers tracing an imaginary design upon the +polished surface of the table before him. + +Glanedale was silent. He fingered his moustache with a nervous hand. +Mr. Grimwood looked across at Malcolm Sage curiously. + +"And you were watching in the hope of seeing something more," +continued Malcolm Sage. + +"I----" began Glanedale, starting violently, then he stopped. + +"Don't you think you had better tell us exactly what it was you +saw," said Malcolm Sage, raising a pair of gold-rimmed eyes that +mercilessly beat down the uneasy gaze of the young man. + +"I--I didn't say I saw anything." + +"It is for you to decide, Mr. Glanedale," said Malcolm Sage, with +an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, "whether it is +better to tell your story now, or under cross-examination in the +witness-box. There you will be under oath, and the proceedings will +be public." + +At that moment Lady Glanedale entered, and the three men rose. + +"I am sorry to interrupt you," she said coldly, "but Sir Roger has +just telephoned and wishes to speak to Mr. Glanedale." + +"I fear we shall have to keep Sir Roger waiting," said Malcolm Sage, +walking over to the door and closing it. + +Lady Glanedale looked at him in surprise. + +"I do not understand," she began. + +"You will immediately," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "We were just +discussing the robbery." He slightly stressed the word "robbery." + +"Really----" began Lady Glanedale. + +"Mr. Glanedale was sitting at his window smoking," continued Malcolm +Sage evenly. "He cannot remember ever having done such a thing +before. I suggested that something unusual had attracted his +attention, and that he was waiting to see what would follow. I was +just about to tell him what had attracted his attention when you +entered, Lady Glanedale." + +Glanedale looked across at his step-mother and then at Malcolm Sage. +His misery was obvious. + +"Last night, soon after twelve," continued Malcolm Sage, "Mr. +Glanedale happened to look out of his window and was surprised to +see a figure moving along towards the left. It was not the figure of +a man with a handkerchief tied across his face as a mask; but a +woman. He watched. He saw it pause beneath the second window of your +bedroom, Lady Glanedale, not the one by which the burglar entered. +Then it stooped down." + +Malcolm Sage's fingers seemed to be tracing each movement of the +mysterious figure upon the surface of the table. Lady Glanedale +gazed at his long, shapely hands as if hypnotised. + +"Presently," he continued, "it returned to the first window, where +it was occupied for some minutes. Mr. Glanedale could not see this; +but the figure was engaged in making footprints and marking the +sides of the water-pipe with a shoe or boot as high up as it could +reach. It----" + +"How dare you make such an accusation!" cried Lady Glanedale, making +an effort to rise; but she sank back again in her chair, her face +plaster-white. + +"I have made no accusation," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "I am +telling what Mr. Glanedale saw." + +A hunted look sprang to Lady Glanedale's eyes. She tore her eyes +from those magnetic fingers and gazed about her wildly as if +meditating flight. Her throat seemed as if made of leather. + +"Would you be prepared to deny all this in the witness-box under +oath, Mr. Glanedale?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +Glanedale looked at him with unseeing eyes, then across at his +step-mother. + +"The woman had put on a pair of men's boots that the footprints +might be masculine. They were so much too large for her that she had +to drag her feet along the ground. The boots were those of a man +weighing, say, about eleven and a half stone; the weight inside +those boots shown by the impression in the mould was little more +than seven stone." + +Lady Glanedale put out her hand as if to ward off a blow; but +Malcolm Sage continued mercilessly, addressing Glanedale. + +"The length of a man's stride is thirty inches; between these steps +the space was less than fifteen inches. Skirts are worn very +narrow." + +He paused, then, as Lady Glanedale made no reply, he turned to +Glanedale. + +"I asked you this morning," he said, "to climb the other pipe for +the double purpose of examining the impress of your boots on the +mould as you left the ground and when you dropped back again on to +the mould. Also to see what sort of marks a pair of leather boots +would make upon the weatherworn paint of the pipe. + +"As you sprang from the ground and clutched the pipe, there was a +deep impress on the mould of the soles of both boots, deep at the +toes and tapering off towards the heel. On your return you made +distinct heel-marks as well." + +Lady Glanedale had buried her face in her hands. She must blot out +the sight of those terrible hands! Glanedale sat with his eyes upon +Malcolm Sage as if hypnotised. + +"There was a shower of rain last night about twelve, an hour before +the alleged burglar arrived; yet the footprints were made before the +rain fell. In two cases leaves had been trodden into the footprints; +yet on these leaves were drops of rain just as they had fallen." + +The hands seemed to draw the leaves and indicate the spots of water +as if they had been blood. Glanedale shuddered involuntarily. + +"In the centre-part of the pipe there were no marks, although there +were light scratches for as high up as the arm of a short person +could reach, and as far down from the bedroom window as a similar +arm could stretch. These scratches were quite dissimilar from those +made on the other pipe." + +Lady Glanedale moaned something unintelligible. + +"Although there had been a shower and the mould was wet," proceeded +Malcolm Sage, "there were no marks of mud or mould on the pipe, on +the window-sill, or in Lady Glanedale's bedroom, which, I understand, +had purposely not been swept. A man had slid down that water-pipe; +yet he had done so without so much as removing the surface dust from +the paint. + +"He had reached the ground as lightly as a fairy, without making any +mark upon the mould; the footprints were merely those of someone +approaching and walking from the pipe." + +Glanedale drew a cigarette case from his pocket; opened it, took out +a cigarette, then, hesitating a moment, replaced it, and returned +the case to his pocket, his eyes all the time on Malcolm Sage. + +"I think," continued Malcolm Sage, "we shall find that the burglar +has buried the jewel-case a few yards to the right of the pipe he is +supposed to have climbed." His forefinger touched a spot on the +extreme right of the table. "There are indications that the mould +has been disturbed. Incidentally a trowel is missing----" + +Glanedale suddenly sprang to his feet, just as Lady Glanedale fell +forward in her chair--she had fainted. + + + + +II + + +"It's a very unpleasant business," remarked Mr. Goodge, the General +Manager of the Twentieth Century Insurance Company, as he looked up +from reading a paper that Malcolm Sage had just handed to him. In it +Lady Glanedale confessed the fraud she had sought to practise upon +the Corporation. "A very unpleasant business," he repeated. + +Malcolm Sage gazed down at his finger-nails, as if the matter had no +further interest for him. When his brain was inactive, his hands +were at rest. + +"I don't know what view the Board will take," continued Mr. Goodge, +as Malcolm Sage made no comment. + +"They will probably present me with another walking-stick," he +remarked indifferently. + +Mr. Goodge laughed. Malcolm Sage's walking-stick had been a standing +joke between them. + +"What made you first suspect Lady Glanedale?" he enquired. + +"She had omitted to rehearse the episode of the burglary, and +consequently when it came to reconstructing the incident, she failed +in a very important particular." Malcolm Sage paused. + +"What was that?" enquired Mr. Goodge with interest, as he pushed a +box of cigars towards Malcolm Sage, who, however, shaking his head, +proceeded to fill his pipe. + +"She had already told me that the key of the safe was always kept +beneath a pile of handkerchiefs in one of the drawers of her +dressing-table; yet when I asked her to go through exactly the same +movements and actions as when the burglar entered her room, she rose +direct from the bed and went to the safe. The dressing-table was at +the other end of the room, and to get to it she would have had to +pass the spot where she said the man was standing." + +Mr. Goodge nodded his head appreciatively. + +"The next point was that I discovered it was Lady Glanedale who +suggested to the police inspector that means should be taken to +prevent anyone approaching the water-pipe by which the man was +supposed to have climbed. She was anxious that the footprints should +be preserved. + +"Another point was that young Glanedale happened to remark that his +step-mother was much addicted to bridge, and that the stakes were +too high to admit of his joining in. Also that men who have +themselves accumulated their wealth know the value of money. Sir +Roger disliked bridge and probably kept his lady short." + +"Most likely," agreed Mr. Goodge. "He has the reputation of being a +bit shrewd in money matters. When did you begin to suspect Lady +Glanedale?" + +"From the first," was the reply. "Everything rang false. Lady +Glanedale's story suggested that it had been rehearsed until she had +it by heart," continued Malcolm Sage. "It was too straightforward, +too clearly expressed for the story of a woman who had just lost +eight thousand pounds' worth of jewels. When I put questions to her +she hesitated before replying, as if mentally comparing her intended +answer with what she had already told. + +"Then she was so practical in preparing a list of the lost jewels at +once, and in warning her stepson not to go near the spot beneath her +window, as there might be footprints; this at a time when she was +supposed to be in a state of great excitement." + +"Did you suspect young Glanedale at all?" queried Mr. Grimwood. + +"No," said Malcolm Sage, "but to make quite sure I cast doubt upon +the possibility of anyone climbing the pipe. If he had been +concerned he would not have volunteered to prove I was wrong." + +"True," said Mr. Goodge as he examined critically the glowing end of +his cigar. "Lady Glanedale seems to have done the job very clumsily, +now that you have explained everything." + +"Even the professional criminal frequently underrates the +intelligence of those whose business it is to frustrate him; but +Lady Glanedale's efforts in marking the water-pipe would not have +deceived a child. A powerful magnifying-glass will show that on all +such exterior pipes there is an accumulation of dust, which would be +removed from a large portion of the surface by anyone climbing +either up or down. Lady Glanedale had thought marks made by a boot +or a shoe would be sufficient confirmation of her story. She is +rather a stupid woman," he added, as he rose to go. + +"I suppose she got the idea from the Comminge affair?" + +"Undoubtedly," was the response; "but as I say, she is a stupid +woman. Vanity in crime is fatal; it leads the criminal to underrate +the intelligence of others. Lady Glanedale is intensely vain." + +"The Board will probably want to thank you personally," said Mr. +Goodge as he shook hands; "but I'll try and prevent them from giving +you another walking-stick," he laughed as he opened the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XI THE MCMURRAY MYSTERY + + + + +I + + +Of the many problems upon which Malcolm Sage was engaged during the +early days of the Malcolm Sage Bureau, that concerning the death of +Professor James McMurray, the eminent physiologist, was perhaps the +most extraordinary. It was possessed of several remarkable features; +for one thing the murderer had disappeared, leaving no clue; for +another the body when found seemed to have undergone a strange +change, many of the professor's sixty-five years appearing to have +dropped from him in death as leaves from an autumn tree. + +It was one of those strange crimes for which there is no apparent +explanation, consequently the strongest weapon the investigator has, +that of motive, was absent. As far as could be gathered the dead +professor had not an enemy in the world. He was a semi-recluse, with +nothing about him to tempt the burglar; yet he had been brutally +done to death in his own laboratory, and the murderer had made good +his escape without leaving anything likely to prove helpful to the +police. + +One day as Gladys Norman, like "panting Time," toiled after her work +in vain, striving to tap herself up to date with an accumulation of +correspondence, the telephone-bell rang for what seemed to her the +umpteenth time that morning. She seized the receiver as a dog seizes +a rat, listened, murmured a few words in reply, then banged it back +upon its rest. + +"Oh dear!" she sighed. "I wish they'd let him alone. The poor dear +looks tired out." She turned to William Johnson, who had just +entered. "Why don't you hurry up and become a man, Innocent," she +demanded, "so that you can help the Chief?" + +William Johnson looked vague and shuffled his feet. His admiration +of Malcolm Sage's secretary rendered him self-conscious in her +presence. + +"Sir John Dene and Sir Jasper Chambers to see the Chief," he +announced, obviously impressed by the social importance of the +callers. + +"Sure it's not the Shah of Persia and Charlie Chaplin?" she asked +wearily as she rose from her table and, walking over to the door +marked "Private," passed into Malcolm Sage's room. + +Reappearing a moment later she instructed William Johnson to show +the visitors in at once. + +As the two men passed through Miss Norman's room, they formed a +striking contrast, Sir John Dene short, thick-set, alert, with the +stamp of the West-End upon all he wore; Sir Jasper Chambers tall, +gaunt arid dingy, with a forehead like the bulging eaves of an +Elizabethan house, and the lower portion of his face a riot of short +grizzled grey hair that seemed to know neither coercion nor +restraint. His neck appeared intent on thrusting itself as far as +possible out of the shabby frock-coat that hung despairingly from +his narrow shoulders. + +"I wonder," murmured Gladys Norman, as she returned to her typing, +"how many geraniums he had to give for those clothes." + +"Morning, Mr. Sage," cried Sir John Dene. + +Malcolm Sage rose. There was an unwonted cordiality in the way in +which he extended his hand. + +"This is Sir Jasper Chambers." Sir John Dene turned to his companion. +"You'll be able to place him," and he twirled the unlit cheroot +between his lips with bewildering rapidity. + +Sir Jasper bowed with an old-world courtliness and grace that seemed +strangely out of keeping with his lank and unpicturesque bearing. +Malcolm Sage, however, held out his hand with the air of one wishing +to convey that a friend of Sir John Dene merited special +consideration. + +He motioned the two men to seats and resumed his own. Both declined +the box of cigars he proffered, Sir John Dene preferring the +well-chewed cheroot between his lips, whilst Sir Jasper drew a pipe +from the tail-pocket of his frock-coat, which with long fleshless +fingers he proceeded to fill from a chamois-leather tobacco-pouch. + +"I've brought Sir Jasper along," said Sir John Dene. "You've heard +about the murder of his friend Professor McMurray. He didn't want to +come; but I told him you'd be tickled to death, and that you'd get +it all figured out for him in two wags of a chipmunk's tail." + +Malcolm Sage looked across at the eminent philanthropist, whose +whole attention seemed absorbed in the filling of his well-worn +briar. + +Sir Jasper's wise charities and great humanitarianism were +world-famous. It was Will Blink, the Labour demagogue, who had said +that of all the honours conferred during the century, Sir Jasper +Chambers' O.M. had alone been earned, the others had been either +bought or wangled. + +The McMurray Murder was the sensation of the hour. The newspapers +had "stunted" it, and the public, always eager for gruesome +sensation, had welcomed it as if it had been a Mary Pickford film. + +Four days previously, Professor James McMurray of Gorling, in Essex, +had been found dead in his laboratory, his head fearfully battered +in by some blunt instrument. + +It was the professor's custom, when engaged upon important research +work, to retire, sometimes for days at a time, to a laboratory he +had built in his own grounds. + +Meals were passed through a small wicket, specially constructed for +that purpose in the laboratory wall, and the professor's servants +had the most explicit instructions on no account to disturb him. + +A fortnight previously Professor McMurray had retired to his +laboratory to carry out an important series of experiments. He +informed his butler that Sir Jasper Chambers, his life-long friend, +would visit him on the third day, and that dinner for two was to be +supplied in the usual way, through the wicket. + +On the evening in question, Sir Jasper Chambers had arrived and +stayed until a little past nine. He then left the laboratory and +proceeded to the house, where he told the butler that his master was +quite well, and that in all probability his researches would occupy +him another week. + +Eight days later, when the butler took the professor's luncheon down +to the laboratory, he noticed that the breakfast-tray had not been +removed from the shelf just inside the wicket. Convinced that the +professor had been so absorbed in his researches that he had +forgotten the meal, the butler placed the luncheon-tray beside that +containing the breakfast, thinking it better to leave the earlier +meal as a reminder to the professor of his forgetfulness. + +At dinner-time the butler was greatly surprised to find that both +breakfast and luncheon had remained as he had left them; still, +remembering how definite and insistent the professor had been that +he was not to be disturbed, the butler had, after consulting with +the housekeeper, decided to do nothing for the moment, and contented +himself with ringing several times the electric-bell that was the +signal of another meal. + +An hour later he went once more to the wicket, only to discover that +nothing had been touched. Hurrying back to the house with all speed +he had conferred with Mrs. Graham, the housekeeper, and, on her +insistence, he had telephoned to the police. + +Sergeant Crudden of the Essex County Constabulary immediately +bicycled over to "The Hollows," Professor McMurray's residence, and, +after hearing the butler's story, he had decided to force the door; +there are no windows, the laboratory being lighted from above, in +order to secure entire privacy. + +To the officer's surprise the door yielded readily, having +apparently been previously forced. Entering the laboratory he was +horrified to discover the body of the professor lying in the centre +of the floor, his head literally smashed by a terrible blow that had +obviously been delivered from behind. + +Acting on the instructions of the police-sergeant, the butler had +telephoned the news to the police-station at Strinton, with the +result that shortly afterwards Inspector Brewitt arrived with a +doctor. + +The police had made no statement; but there were some extraordinary +rumours current in the neighbourhood. One was to the effect that it +was not Professor McMurray's body that had been discovered; but that +of a much younger man who bore a striking resemblance to him. + +"You have seen the accounts of my friend's terrible end?" enquired +Sir Jasper, as he took the box of matches Malcolm Sage handed him +and proceeded to light his pipe. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. His gaze was fixed upon Sir Jasper's grey +worsted socks, which concertinaed up his legs above a pair of +strangely-fashioned black shoes. + +"He was about to enter upon a series of experiments with a serum he +had discovered, his object being to lengthen human life." + +Sir Jasper spoke in a gentle, well-modulated voice, in which was a +deep note of sadness. He and Professor McMurray had been life-long +friends, their intimacy appearing to become strengthened by the +passage of years. + +"You were the last to see him alive, I understand." Malcolm Sage +picked up his fountain-pen and began an elaborate stipple design of +a serpent upon the blotting-pad. + +"Eight days before he was found I dined with him," said Sir Jasper, +his voice a little unsteady. + +"What happened?" Malcolm Sage enquired without looking up. + +"I arrived at seven o'clock," continued Sir Jasper. "From then until +half-past we talked upon things of general interest, after which we +dined. Later he told me he was about to enter upon a final series of +experiments, the result of which would, in all probability, either +be fatal to himself, or mean the lengthening of human life." + +He paused, gazing straight in front of him, ejecting smoke from his +lips in staccatoed puffs. Then he continued: + +"He said that he had recently made a will, which was lying with his +solicitor, and he gave me certain additional instructions as to the +disposal of his property." + +"Did he seem quite normal?" enquired Malcolm Sage, adding a pair of +formidable fangs to his reptile. + +"He was calm and confident. At parting he told me I should be the +first to know the result." + +"Have you any reason to believe that Professor McMurray had +enemies?" Malcolm Sage enquired. + +"None," was the reply, uttered in a tone of deep conviction, +accompanied by a deliberate wagging of the head. + +"He was confident of the success of his experiments?" + +"Absolutely." + +"And you?" + +"I had no means of knowing," was the reply. + +"You were his greatest friend and his only confidant?" suggested +Malcolm Sage, adding the sixth pair of legs to his creation. + +"Yes." + +"And you were to be the first to be told of the result of the +experiments?" + +"Those were his last words to me." + +There was a suggestion of emotion in Sir Jasper's otherwise even +voice. + +"Can you remember his actual words?" + +"Yes; I remember them," he replied sadly. "As we shook hands he said, +'Well, Chambers, you will be the first to know the result.'" + +Again there was silence, broken at length by Malcolm Sage, who +stroked the back of his head with his left hand. His eyes had +returned to Sir Jasper's socks. + +"Do you think the professor had been successful in his experiments?" +he enquired. + +"I cannot say." Again Sir Jasper shook his head slowly and +deliberately. + +"Did you see the body?" + +"I did." + +"Is there any truth in the rumours that he looked much younger?" + +"There was certainly a marked change, a startling change," was the +reply. + +"But death plays odd tricks with years," suggested Malcolm Sage, who +was now feeling the lobe of his left ear as if to assure himself of +its presence. + +"True," said Sir Jasper, nodding his head as if pondering the matter +deeply. "True." + +"There was an article in last month's _The Present Century_ by Sir +Kelper Jevons entitled 'The Dangers of Longevity.' Did you read it?" +enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"I did." + +"I read it too," broke in Sir John Dene, who had hitherto remained +an interested listener, as he sat twirling round between his lips +the still unlit cheroot. "A pretty dangerous business it seems to me, +this monkeying about with people's glands." + +"It called attention to the danger of any interference with Nature's +carefully-adjusted balances between life and death," continued +Malcolm Sage, who had returned to the serpent which now sported a +pair of horns, "and was insistent that the lengthening of human life +could result only in harm to the community. Do you happen to know if +Professor McMurray had seen this?" + +"He had." Sir Jasper leaned forward to knock the ashes from his pipe +into the copper tray on Malcolm Sage's table. "We talked of it +during dinner that evening. His contention was that science could +not be constricted by utilitarianism, and that Nature would adjust +her balances to the new conditions." + +"But," grumbled Sir John Dene, "it wouldn't be until there had been +about the tallest kind of financial panic this little globe of +misery has ever seen." + +"The article maintained that there would be an intervening period of +chaos," remarked Malcolm Sage meditatively, as he opened a drawer +and took from it a copy of _The Present Century_. "I was +particularly struck with this passage," he remarked: + +"'It is impossible to exaggerate the extreme delicacy of the +machinery of modern civilization,' he read. 'Industrialism, the +food-supply, existence itself are dependent upon the death-rate. +Reduce this materially and it will inevitably lead to an upheaval of +a very grave nature. For instance, it would mean an addition of +something like a million to the population of the United Kingdom +each year, over and above those provided for by the normal excess of +births over deaths, and _it would be years before Nature could +readjust_ her balances.'" + +Malcolm Sage looked across at Sir Jasper, who for some seconds +remained silent, apparently deep in thought. + +"I think," he said presently, with the air of a man carefully +weighing his words, "that McMurray was inclined to under-estimate +the extreme delicacy of the machinery of modern civilization. I +recall his saying that the arguments in that article would apply +only in the very unlikely event of someone meeting with unqualified +success. That is to say, by the discovery of a serum that would +achieve what the Spaniards hoped of the Fountain of Eternal Youth, +an instantaneous transformation from age to youth." + +"A sort of Faust stunt," murmured Sir John Dene. + +Sir Jasper nodded his head gravely. + +For some minutes the three men sat silent, Sir Jasper gazing +straight in front of him, Sir John Dene twirling his cheroot between +his lips, his eyes fixed upon the bald dome-like head of Malcolm +Sage, whose eyes were still intent upon his horned reptile, which he +had adorned with wings. He appeared to be thinking deeply. + +"It's up to you, Mr. Sage, to get on the murderer's trail," said Sir +John Dene at length, with the air of a man who has no doubt as to +the result. + +"You wish me to take up the case, Sir John?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +looking up suddenly. + +"Sure," said Sir John Dene as he rose. "I'll take it as a particular +favour if you will. Now I must vamoose. I've got a date in the +city." He jerked himself to his feet and extended a hand to Malcolm +Sage. Then turning to Sir Jasper, who had also risen, he added, "You +leave it to Mr. Sage, Sir Jasper. Before long you won't see him for +dust. He's about the livest wire this side of the St. Lawrence," and +with this enigmatical assurance, he walked to the door, whilst +Malcolm Sage shook hands with Sir Jasper. + + + + +II + + +"Johnnie," said Miss Norman, as William Johnson entered her room in +response to a peremptory call on the private-telephone, "Inspector +Carfon is to honour us with a call during the next few minutes. Give +him a chair and a copy of _The Sunday at Home_, and watch the clues +as they peep out of his pockets. Now buzz off." + +William Johnson returned to his table in the outer office and the +lurid detective story from which Miss Norman's summons had torn him. +He was always gratified when an officer from Scotland Yard called; +it seemed to bring him a step nearer to the great crook-world of his +dreams. William Johnson possessed imagination; but it was the +imagination of the films. + +A quarter of an hour later he held open the door of Malcolm Sage's +private room to admit Inspector Carfon, a tall man, with small +features and a large forehead, above which the fair hair had been +sadly thinned by the persistent wearing of a helmet in the early +days of his career. + +"I got your message, Mr. Sage," he began, as he flopped into a chair +on the opposite side of Malcolm Sage's table. "This McMurray case is +a teaser. I shall be glad to talk it over with you." + +"I am acting on behalf of Sir Jasper Chambers," said Malcolm Sage. +"It's very kind of you to come round so promptly, Carfon," he added, +pushing a box of cigars towards the inspector. + +"Not at all, Mr. Sage," said Inspector Carfon as he selected a cigar. +"Always glad to do what we can, although we are supposed to be a bit +old-fashioned," and he laughed the laugh of a man who can afford to +be tolerant. + +"I've seen all there is in the papers," said Malcolm Sage. "Are +there any additional particulars?" + +"There's one thing we haven't told the papers, and it wasn't +emphasised at the inquest." The inspector leaned forward +impressively. + +Malcolm Sage remained immobile, his eyes on his finger-nails. + +"The doctor," continued the inspector, "says that the professor had +been dead for about forty-eight hours, whereas we _know_ he'd eaten +a dinner about twenty-six hours before he was found." + +Malcolm Sage looked up slowly. In his eyes there was an alert look +that told of keen interest. + +"You challenged him?" he queried. + +"Ra-_ther_," was the response, "but he got quite ratty. Said he'd +stake his professional reputation and all that sort of thing." + +Malcolm Sage meditatively inclined his head several times in +succession; his hand felt mechanically for his fountain-pen. + +"Then there was another thing that struck me as odd," continued +Inspector Carfon, intently examining the end of his cigar. "The +professor had evidently been destroying a lot of old correspondence. +The paper-basket was full of torn-up letters and envelopes, and the +grate was choc-a-bloc with charred paper. That also we kept to +ourselves." + +"That all?" + +"I think so," was the reply. "There's not the vestige of a clue that +I can find." + +"I see," said Malcolm Sage, looking at a press-cutting lying before +him, "that it says there was a remarkable change in the professor's +appearance. He seemed to have become rejuvenated." + +"The doctor said that sometimes 'death smites with a velvet hand.' +He was rather a poetic sort of chap," the inspector added by way of +explanation. + +"He saw nothing extraordinary in the circumstance?" + +"No," was the response. "He seemed to think he was the only one who +had ever seen a dead man before. I wouldn't mind betting I've seen +as many stiffs as he has, although perhaps he's caused more." + +Then as Malcolm Sage made no comment, the inspector proceeded. + +"What I want to know is what was the professor doing while the door +was being broken open?" + +"There were no signs of a struggle?" enquired Malcolm Sage, drawing +a cottage upon his thumbnail. + +"None. He seems to have been attacked unexpectedly from behind." + +"Was there anything missing?" + +"We're not absolutely sure. The professor's gold watch can't be +found; but the butler is not certain that he had it on him." + +For some time there was silence. Malcolm Sage appeared to be +pondering over the additional facts he had just heard. + +"What do you want me to do, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector at +length. + +"I was wondering whether you would run down with me this afternoon +to Gorling." + +"I'd be delighted," was the hearty response. "Somehow or other I +feel it's not an ordinary murder. There's something behind it all." + +"What makes you think that?" Malcolm Sage looked up sharply. + +"Frankly, I can't say, Mr. Sage," he confessed a little shamefacedly, +"it's just a feeling I have." + +"The laboratory has been locked up?" + +"Yes; and I've sealed the door. Nothing has been touched." + +Malcolm Sage nodded his head approvingly and, for fully five minutes, +continued to gaze down at his hands spread out on the table before +him. + +"Thank you, Carfon. Be here at half-past two." + +"The funeral's to-day, by the way," said the inspector as he rose +and, with a genial "good morning," left the room. + +For the next hour Malcolm Sage was engaged in reading the newspaper +accounts of the McMurray Mystery, which he had already caused to be +pasted up in the current press-cutting book; he gathered little more +from them, however, than he already knew. + +That afternoon, accompanied by Inspector Carfon, Malcolm Sage +motored down to "The Hollows," which lies at the easternmost end of +the village of Gorling. + +The inspector stopped the car just as it entered the drive. The two +men alighted and, turning sharply to the right, walked across the +lawn towards an ugly red-brick building, screened from the house by +a belt of trees. Malcolm Sage had expressed a wish to see the +laboratory first. + +It was a strange-looking structure, some fifty feet long by about +twenty feet wide, with a door on the further side. In the red-brick +wall nearer the house there was nothing to break the monotony except +the small wicket through which the professor's meals were passed. + +Malcolm Sage twice walked deliberately round the building. In the +meantime the inspector had removed the seal from the padlock and +opened the door. + +"Did you photograph the position of the body?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +as they entered. + +"I hadn't a photographer handy," said the inspector apologetically, +as he closed the door behind him; "but I managed to get a man to +photograph the wound." + +"Put yourself in the position of the body," said Malcolm Sage. + +The inspector walked to the centre of the room, near a +highly-polished table, dropped on to the floor and, after a moment's +pause, turned and lay on his left side, with right arm outstretched. + +From just inside the door Malcolm Sage looked about him. At the left +extremity a second door gave access to another apartment, which the +professor used as a bedroom. + +A little to the right of the door, on the opposite side, stood the +fireplace. This was full of ashes, apparently the charred remains of +a quantity of paper that had been burnt. On the hearth were several +partially-charred envelopes, and the paper-basket contained a number +of torn-up letters. + +"That will do, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage, as he walked over to the +fireplace and, dropping on one knee, carefully examined the ashes, +touching them here and there with the poker. + +He picked up something that glittered and held it out to the +inspector who scrambled to his feet, and stood looking down with +keen professional interest. + +"Piece of a test tube," remarked Malcolm Sage, as he placed the +small piece of glass upon the table. + +"Moses' aunt!" gasped the inspector. "I missed that, though I saw a +lot of bits of glass. I thought it was an electric bulb." + +"Somebody had ground it to powder with his heel, all except this +piece. Looks as if there might have been more than one," he added +more to himself than to the inspector. + +"These are not letters," he continued without looking up. + +"Not letters?" + +"The paper is all of the same quality. By the way, has anyone +disturbed it?" He indicated the grate. + +"No one," was the reply. + +Malcolm Sage rose to his feet. For some minutes he stood looking +down at the fireplace, stroking the back of his head, deep in +thought. + +Presently he picked up the poker, a massive steel affair, and +proceeded to examine the fire-end with great minuteness. + +"It was done with the other end," said the inspector. "He must have +wiped it afterwards. There was no sign of blood or hair." + +Malcolm Sage ignored the remark, and continued to regard the +business-end of the poker. Walking over to the door, he examined the +fastenings. Having taken a general survey, he next proceeded to a +detailed scrutiny of everything the place contained. From the +fireplace he picked up what looked like a cinder and placed it in a +small box, which he put in his pocket. + +The polished surface of the table he subjected to a careful +examination, borrowing the inspector's magnifying-glass for the +purpose. On hands and knees he crawled round the table, still using +the magnifying-glass upon the linoleum, with which the floor was +covered. From time to time he would pick up some apparently minute +object and transfer it to another small box. At length he rose to +his feet as if satisfied. + +"The professor did not smoke?" he queried. + +"No; but the murderer did," was the rather brusque reply. Inspector +Carfon was finding the role of audience trying, alike to his nerves +and to his temper. + +"Obviously," was Malcolm Sage's dry retort. "He also left his pipe +behind and had to return for it. It was rather a foul pipe, too," he +added. + +"Left his pipe behind!" cried the inspector, his irritation dropping +from him like a garment. "How on earth----!" In his surprise he left +the sentence unfinished. + +"Here," Malcolm Sage indicated a dark stain on the highly-polished +table, "and here," he pointed to a few flecks of ash some four or +five inches distant, "are indications that a pipe has remained for +some considerable time, long enough for the nicotine to drain +through the stem; it was a very foul pipe, Carfon." + +"But mightn't that have trickled out in a few minutes, or while the +man was here?" objected Inspector Carfon. + +"With a wet smoker the saliva might have drained back," said Malcolm +Sage, his eyes upon the stain, "but this is nicotine from higher up +the stem, which would take time to flow out. As to leaving it on the +table, what inveterate smoker would allow a pipe to lie on a table +for any length of time unless he left it behind him? The man smoked +like a chimney; look at the tobacco ash in the fireplace." + +The inspector stared at Malcolm Sage, chagrin in his look. + +"Now that photograph, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage. + +Taking a letter-case from his breast-pocket, Inspector Carfon drew +out a photograph folded in half. This he handed to Malcolm Sage, who, +after a keen glance at the grim and gruesome picture, put it in his +pocket. + +"I thought so," he murmured. + +"Thought what, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector eagerly. + +"Left-handed." When keenly interested Malcolm Sage was more than +usually economical in words. + +"Clean through the left side of the occipital bone," Malcolm Sage +continued. "No right-handed man could have delivered such a blow. +That confirms the poker." + +The inspector stared. + +"The sockets of the bolts, and that of the lock, have been loosened +from the inside with the poker," explained Malcolm Sage in a +matter-of-fact tone. "The marks upon the poker suggest a left-handed +man. The wound in the head proves it." + +"Then the forced door was a blind?" gasped the inspector. + +"The murderer was let in by the professor himself, who was +subsequently attacked from behind as he stood with his back to the +fireplace. You are sure the grate has not been touched?" He suddenly +raised his eyes in keen interrogation. + +Inspector Carfon shook his head. He had not yet recovered from his +surprise. + +"Someone has stirred the ashes about so as to break up the charred +leaves into small pieces to make identification impossible. This man +has a brain," he added. + +The inspector gave vent to a prolonged whistle. "I knew there was +something funny about the whole business," he said as if in +self-defence. + +Malcolm Sage had seated himself at the table, his long thin fingers +outspread before him. Suddenly he gave utterance to an exclamation +of annoyance. + +The inspector bent eagerly forward. + +"The pipe," he murmured. "I was wrong. He put it down because he was +absorbed in something, probably the papers he burnt." + +"Then you think the murderer burnt the papers?" enquired the +inspector in surprise. + +"Who else?" asked Malcolm Sage, rising. "Now we'll see the butler." + +Whilst the inspector was locking and re-sealing the door, Malcolm +Sage walked round the building several times in widening circles, +examining the ground carefully; but there had been no rain for +several weeks, and nothing upon its surface suggested a footprint. + + + + +CHAPTER XII THE MARMALADE CLUE + + + + +I + + +AS Malcolm Sage and Inspector Carfon crossed the lawn from the +laboratory, Sir Jasper Chambers was seen coming down the drive +towards them. + +"There's Sir Jasper," cried the inspector. + +When they reached the point where the lawn joined the drive they +paused, waiting for Sir Jasper to approach. He walked with long, +loose strides, his head thrust forward, his mind evidently absorbed +and far away from where he was. His coat flapped behind him, and at +each step his trousers jerked upwards, displaying several inches of +grey worsted sock. + +"Good afternoon, Sir Jasper," said Inspector Carfon, stepping +forward and lifting his hat. + +Sir Jasper stopped dead, with the air of one who has suddenly been +brought to a realisation of his whereabouts. For a moment he stared +blankly, then apparently recognition came to his aid. + +"Good afternoon, inspector," he responded, lifting his black felt +hat with a graceful motion that seemed strangely out-of-keeping with +his grotesque appearance. In the salutation he managed to include +Malcolm Sage, who acknowledged it with his customary jerky nod. + +"We have just been looking at the laboratory," said the inspector. + +"Ah!" Sir Jasper nodded his head several times. "The laboratory!" + +"Will you oblige me with your pouch, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage, +drawing his pipe from his pocket. "I've lost mine." + +Inspector Carfon thrust his hand into his left-hand pocket, then +began to go hurriedly through his other pockets with the air of a +man who has lost something. + +"I had it a quarter of an hour ago," he said. "I must have dropped +it in the----" + +"Allow me, sir," said Sir Jasper, extending to Malcolm Sage his own +pouch, which he had extracted from his tail-pocket, whilst the +inspector was still engaged in his search. Malcolm Sage took it and +with a nod proceeded to fill his pipe. + +"Looks like Craven Mixture," he remarked without looking up from the +pipe which he was cramming from Sir Jasper's pouch. + +Malcolm Sage was an epicure in tobacco. + +"No; it's Ormonde Mixture," was the reply. "I always smoke it. It is +singularly mellow," he added, "singularly mellow." He continued to +look straight in front of him, whilst the inspector appeared anxious +to get on to the house. + +Having completed his task, Malcolm Sage folded the tobacco-pouch and +handed it back to Sir Jasper. + +"Thank you," he said, and proceeded to light his pipe. + +Apparently seeing nothing to detain him further, Sir Jasper lifted +his hat, bowed and passed on. + +"Regular old cure, isn't he?" remarked the inspector as they watched +the ungainly figure disappear round the bend of the drive. + +"A great man, Carfon," murmured Malcolm Sage, "a very great man," +and he turned and walked towards the house. + +The front door of "The Hollows" was opened by the butler, a +gentle-faced old man, in appearance rather like a mid-Victorian +lawyer. At the sight of the inspector, a troubled look came into his +eyes. + +"I want to have a few words with you," said Malcolm Sage quietly. + +The old man led the way to the library. Throwing open the door for +them to pass in, he followed and closed it behind him. Malcolm Sage +seated himself at the table and Inspector Carfon also dropped into a +chair. The butler stood, his hands half-closed before him, the palm +of one resting upon the knuckles of the other. His whole attitude +was half-nervous, half-fearful, and wholly deprecating. + +"I'm afraid this has been a great shock to you," said Malcolm Sage. + +Inspector Carfon glanced across at him. There was an unaccustomed +note of gentleness in his tone. + +"It has indeed, sir," said the butler, and two tears gathered upon +his lower lids, hung pendulous for a second, then raced one another +down either side of his nose. It was the first sympathetic word the +old man had heard since the police had arrived, insatiable for facts. + +"Sit down," said Malcolm Sage, without looking up, "I shall not keep +you many minutes." His tone was that one might adopt to a child. + +The old man obeyed, seating himself upon the edge of the chair, one +hand still placed upon the other. + +"You mustn't think because the police ask a lot of questions that +they mean to be unkind," said Malcolm Sage. + +"I--I believe they think I did it," the old man quavered, "and--and +I'd have done anything----" + +His voice broke, the tears coursing down his colourless cheeks. + +"I want you to try to help me find out who did kill your master," +continued Malcolm Sage, in the same tone, "and you can do that by +answering my questions." + +There was no restless movement of fingers now. The hard, keen look +had left his eyes, and his whole attention seemed to be concentrated +upon soothing the old man before him. + +With an obvious effort the butler strove to control himself. + +"Did the professor ever have visitors at his laboratory?" + +"Only Sir Jasper, sir. He was----" + +"Just answer my questions," said Malcolm Sage gently. "He told you, +I think, never on any account to disturb him?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you ever do so?" + +"Only once, sir." + +"That was?" + +"When Mrs. Graham, that's the housekeeper, sir, set fire to the +curtains of her room. I was afraid for the house, sir, and I ran +down and knocked at the laboratory door." + +"Did the professor open it?" + +"No, sir." + +"Perhaps he did not hear you?" + +"Yes, he did, sir. I knocked and kicked for a long time, then I ran +back to the house and found the fire had been put out." + +"Did Professor McMurray ever refer to the matter?" + +"He was very angry when I next saw him, sir, three days later." + +"What did he say?" + +"That neither fire nor murder was an excuse for interrupting him, +and if I did it again I would have to----" + +"Quite so," interrupted Malcolm Sage, desirous of saving the old +servitor the humiliation of explaining that he had been threatened +with dismissal. + +"So you are confident in your own mind that no amount of knocking at +the door would have caused your master to open it?" + +"Quite certain, sir," the butler said with deep conviction. "If he +had heard me murdering Mrs. Graham he wouldn't have come out," he +added gravely. "He used to say that man is for the moment; but +research is for all time. He was a very wonderful man, sir," he +added earnestly. + +"So that to get into the laboratory someone must have had a +duplicate key?" + +"No, sir, the professor always bolted the door on the inside." + +"Then he must have opened it himself?" + +"He wouldn't, sir. I'm sure he wouldn't." + +"But how did Sir Jasper get in?" + +"He was expected, sir, and when he went to the laboratory, the +master always ordered extra food. He was very absent-minded, sir; +but he always remembered that. He was very considerate, sir, too. He +never forgot my birthday," and he broke down completely, his frail +body shaken by sobs. + +Rising, Malcolm Sage placed his hand upon the old man's shoulder. As +if conscious of the unspoken message of sympathy inspired by the +touch, the butler clasped the hand in both his own. + +Inspector Carfon looked surprised. + +"He was so kind, sir, so kind and thoughtful," he quavered. "I don't +know what I shall do without him." There was in his voice something +of the querulous appeal of a little child. + +"Were letters ever taken to the laboratory?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +walking over to the window and gazing out. + +"Never, sir," was the reply. "Everything was kept until the +professor returned to the house, even telegrams." + +"Then he was absolutely cut off?" said Malcolm Sage, returning to +his seat. + +"That was what he used to say, sir, that he wanted to feel cut off +from everybody and everything." + +"You have seen the body?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you notice anything remarkable about it?" + +"He was more like he was some thirty years ago, sir." + +"Rejuvenated in fact." + +"I beg pardon, sir?" + +"He seemed to have become suddenly a much younger man?" explained +Malcolm Sage. + +"Yes, sir. I've been with him over thirty years, and he looked very +much as he did then, except, of course, that his hair remained +grey." + +"Apart from the food not being taken in, you noticed nothing else +that struck you as strange?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +The old man puckered up his eyebrows, as if genuinely anxious to +remember something that would please the man who had shown him so +much sympathy. + +"I can't think of anything, sir," he said at length, apologetically, +"only the marmalade, and that, of course, wouldn't----" + +"The marmalade?" Malcolm Sage turned quickly. + +"It was nothing, sir," said the old man. "Perhaps I oughtn't to have +mentioned it; but the morning before we found him, the master had +not eaten any marmalade, and him so fond of it. I was rather worried, +and I asked Mrs. Graham if it was a new brand, thinking perhaps he +didn't like it; but I found it was the same he always had." + +For fully a minute Malcolm Sage was silent, gazing straight before +him. + +"He never smoked?" he asked at length. + +"Never, sir, not during the whole thirty years I've been with him." + +"Who cleaned the laboratory? It did not look as if it had been +unswept for a week." + +"No, indeed, sir," was the reply, "the professor was very particular. +He always swept it up himself each morning. It was cleaned by one of +the servants once a month." + +"You're sure about the sweeping-up?" Malcolm Sage enquired with a +keen glance that with him always meant an important point. + +"Quite certain, sir." + +"That, I think, will be all." + +"Thank you, sir," said the butler, rising. "Thank you for being so +kind, and--and understanding, sir," and he walked a little +unsteadily from the room. + +"I was afraid you wouldn't get anything out of him, Mr. Sage," said +Inspector Carfon, with just a suspicion of relief in his voice. + +"No," remarked Malcolm Sage quietly, "nothing new; but an important +corroboration of the doctor's evidence." + +"What was that?" + +"That it was the murderer and not Professor McMurray who ate +Wednesday's breakfast, luncheon and dinner." + +"Good Lord!" The inspector's jaw dropped in his astonishment. + +"I suspect that for some reason or other he returned to +the laboratory; that accounts for the rough marks upon the +door-fastenings as if someone had first torn them off and then sought +to replace them. After his second visit the murderer evidently stayed +too long, and was afraid of being seen leaving the laboratory. He +therefore remained until the following night, eating the professor's +meals. Incidentally he knew all about his habits." + +"Well, I'm blowed if he isn't a cool un!" gasped the inspector. + +Malcolm Sage rose with the air of one who has concluded the business +on hand. + +"Can I run you back to town, Carfon?" he asked, as he walked towards +the door. + +"No, thank you," said the inspector. "I must go over to Strinton and +see Brewitt. He's following up a clue he's got. Some tramp who was +seen hanging about here for a couple of days just before the +murder," he added. + +"Unless he is tall and powerful, left-handed, with something more +than a layman's knowledge of surgery, you had better not trouble +about him," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "You might also note that the +murderer belongs to the upper, or middle class, has an iron nerve, +and is strongly humanitarian." + +For a moment Inspector Carfon stared at Malcolm Sage with lengthened +jaw. Then suddenly he laughed, a laugh of obvious relief. + +"At first I thought you were serious, Mr. Sage," he said, "till I +saw what you were up to. It's just like the story-book detectives," +and he laughed again, this time more convincingly. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders. "Let me have a description of +the man when you get him," he said, "and some of the tobacco he +smokes. Try him with marmalade, Carfon, and plenty of it. By the way, +you make a great mistake in not reading _The Present Century_," he +added. "It can be curiously instructive," and without another word +he crossed the hall and, a moment later, entered his car. + +"Swank!" murmured Inspector Carfon angrily, as he watched Tims swing +the car down the drive at a dangerous rate of speed, "pure, +unadulterated, brain-rotting swank," and he in turn passed down the +drive, determined to let Malcolm Sage see what he could do "on his +own." + + + + +II + + +Three weeks passed and there was no development in the McMurray +Mystery. Malcolm Sage had heard nothing from Inspector Carfon, who +was busily engaged in an endeavour to trace the tramp seen in the +neighbourhood of "The Hollows" on the day previous to the murder. + +Sir John Dene had called several times upon Malcolm Sage, whom he +had come to regard as infallible, only to be told that there was no +news. He made no comment; but it was obvious that he was greatly +disappointed. + +Interest began to wane, the newspapers devoted themselves to other +"stunts," and the McMurray Mystery seemed fated to swell the list of +unfathomed crimes with which, from time to time, the Press likes to +twit Scotland Yard. + +Suddenly the whole affair flared up anew, and Fleet Street once more +devoted itself and its columns to the death of Professor James +McMurray. + +A brief announcement that a man of the vagrant class had been +arrested in London whilst endeavouring to sell a gold watch believed +to be that of Professor McMurray, was the first spark. Later the +watch was identified and the man charged with the murder. He +protested his innocence, saying that he had picked up the watch by +the roadside, just outside Gorling, nearly a month before. There +were bloodstains upon his clothes, which he explained by saying he +had been fighting with another man who had made his nose bleed. + +Inspector Carfon, unable to keep a note of triumph out of his voice, +had telephoned the news to Malcolm Sage, who had asked for +particulars of the man, his pipe, and a specimen of his tobacco; but +day after day had passed without these being forthcoming. Finally +the man, against whom the police had built up a damaging case, had +been committed for trial. + +Two weeks later he was found guilty at the assizes and sentenced to +death. + +Then it was that Malcolm Sage had written to Inspector Carfon curtly +asking him to call at eleven on the following day, bringing with him +the information for which he had asked. At the same time he wrote to +Sir John Dene and Sir Jasper Chambers. + +Punctually at eleven on the following morning the inspector called +at the Malcolm Sage Bureau. + +"Sorry, Mr. Sage," he said, as he entered Malcolm Sage's room, "I've +been so rushed that I haven't been able to get round," and he +dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table. + +Malcolm Sage pushed across the cigar box. + +"That's his tobacco-box," said Inspector Carfon, placing on the +table a small tin-box. + +Opening it, and after a swift glance at the contents, Malcolm Sage +raised it to his nose: "Cigarette-ends," he remarked without looking +up. + +"And that's his pipe." The inspector laid on the table a black clap +pipe, with some two inches of stem attached to the bowl. + +Malcolm Sage scarcely glanced at it. Pulling out a drawer he +produced a small cardboard box, which he opened and pushed towards +the inspector. + +"That is the tobacco smoked by the murderer. The makers are prepared +to swear to it." + +"Where the deuce did you get it?" gasped the inspector. + +"Grain by grain from the linoleum in the laboratory," replied +Malcolm Sage. "That is why it was necessary to be sure it was swept +each day. It also helped me to establish the man as middle or upper +class. This tobacco is expensive. What is the man like who has been +condemned?" + +"A regular wandering willie," replied the inspector. "Oldish chap, +gives his age as sixty-one. Five foot three and a half, thin as a +rake, twenty-nine inch chest. Miserable sort of devil. Says he +picked up the watch about a quarter of a mile from 'The Hollows' +early one morning." + +"Does he eat marmalade?" + +"Eat it!" the inspector laughed. "He wolfs it. I remembered what you +said and took a pound along with me to Strinton, just for fun." He +looked across at Malcolm Sage a little shamefacedly. "I afterwards +heard that there was only the jar and the label left; but I don't +see what all this has to do with it. The fellow's got to swing for +it and----" + +"Carfon, you've made a fool of yourself." + +The inspector started back in his chair as if someone had struck him. + +"I gave you a description of the man who had killed Professor +McMurray; yet you proceed to build up a fantastical case against +this poor devil." + +"But----" began the inspector. He was interrupted by the door being +burst violently open and Sir John Dene shot into the room. + +For a moment he stood staring at the two men, Gladys Norman and +William Johnson framed in the doorway behind him. + +"Sir Jasper's killed himself," he cried. + +"Moses' aunt!" cried the inspector, starting to his feet. + +Malcolm Sage sat immovable at his table, his eyes upon his +outstretched hands. Slowly looking up he motioned to Miss Norman to +close the door, then nodded towards a chair into which Sir John Dene +sank. The inspector resumed his own seat. It was obvious that the +news had considerably shaken him. + +"You knew?" Sir John Dene interrogated, his voice a little unsteady. + +"I expected it," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "But how, Mr. Sage?" +enquired Inspector Carfon in a whisper, his throat dry with +excitement. + +"Because I wrote to him yesterday saying that I could not allow the +condemned man to be sacrificed. It was Sir Jasper Chambers who +killed Professor McMurray." + +For a moment Inspector Carfon's eyes looked as if they would start +out of his head. He turned and looked at Sir John Dene, who with +unsteady hand was taking a cheroot from his case. + +Malcolm Sage drew his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to fill it. + +"On the Tuesday night," he began, "it is obvious that Professor +McMurray admitted someone to the laboratory. That man was Sir Jasper +Chambers. + +"When the two had dined together a week before," proceeded Malcolm +Sage, "an appointment was obviously made for a week later. The +professor's last words were significant: 'Anyway, Chambers, you will +be the first to know.' If the experiments had proved fatal, how +could Sir Jasper be the first to know unless an appointment had been +made for him to call at the laboratory and discover for himself the +result?" + +The inspector coughed noisily. + +"When Sir Jasper learned of the unqualified success of the +experiments, and saw by the professor's changed appearance proof of +his triumph, he remembered the article in _The Present Century_. He +realised that in the lengthening of human life a terrible +catastrophe threatened the world. Humanitarianism triumphed over his +affection for his friend, and he killed him." + +Sir John Dene nodded his head in agreement. The inspector was +leaning forward, his arms on the table, staring at Malcolm Sage with +glassy eyes. + +"The assailant was clearly a tall, powerful man and left-handed. +That was shown by the nature of the blow. That he had some knowledge +of physiology is obvious from the fact that he made no attempt at a +second blow to insure death, as a layman most likely would have done. +He knew that he had smashed the occipital bone right into the brain. +In his early years Sir Jasper studied medicine. + +"The crime committed, Sir Jasper proceeded to cover his tracks. With +the poker he loosened the sockets of the bolts and that of the lock +in order to give an impression that the door had been burst open +from without. He then left the place and, to suggest robbery as a +motive for the crime, he took with him the professor's gold watch, +which he threw away. This was found a few hours later by the tramp +whom you, Carfon, want to hang for a crime of which he knows +nothing." There was a note of sternness in Malcolm Sage's voice. + +"But----" began the inspector. + +"I suspect," continued Malcolm Sage, "that after he had left the +laboratory, Sir Jasper suddenly realised that the professor had +probably recorded in his book all his processes. He returned, +discovered the manuscript, and was for hours absorbed in it, at +first smoking continuously, later too interested in his task to +think of his pipe. It must be remembered that he had studied +medicine." + +The inspector glanced across at Sir John Dene, who sat rigidly in +his chair, his eyes fixed upon Malcolm Sage. + +"I rather think that he was aroused from his preoccupation by the +ringing of the bell announcing the arrival of the professor's +breakfast. He then realised that he could not leave the place until +nightfall. He therefore ate that meal, carefully avoiding the +marmalade, which he disliked, and subsequently he consumed the +luncheon, and dinner, passed through the wicket." + +Malcolm Sage paused to press down the tobacco in his pipe. + +"He burned the manuscript, tearing up letters and throwing them into +the waste-paper basket to give the appearance of Professor McMurray +having had a clearing-up. He then destroyed all the test-tubes he +could find. Finally he left the laboratory late on the Wednesday +night, or early Thursday morning." + +"But how did you find out all this?" It was Sir John Dene who spoke. + +"First of all, Sir Jasper and the murderer smoke the same tobacco, +'Ormonde Mixture.' I verified that by picking Inspector Carfon's +pocket." Taking a tobacco-pouch from a drawer Malcolm Sage handed it +across the table. "You will remember Sir Jasper lent me his pouch. I +had picked up some tobacco on the floor and on the hearth. + +"Secondly, the murderer was left-handed, and so is Sir Jasper. + +"Thirdly, the murderer does not eat marmalade and Sir Jasper had the +same distaste." + +"But how----?" began the inspector. + +"I telephoned to his housekeeper in the name of a local grocer and +asked if it would be Sir Jasper who had ordered some marmalade, as +an assistant could not remember the gentleman's name. That grocer, I +suspect, got into trouble, as the housekeeper seemed to expect him +to know that Sir Jasper disliked marmalade." + +"Well, you seem to have got the thing pretty well figured out," +remarked Sir John Dene grimly. + +"Another man's life and liberty were at stake," was the calm reply, +"otherwise----" he shrugged his shoulders. + +"As Sir Jasper did not come forward I wrote to him yesterday giving +him until noon to-day to make a statement," continued Malcolm Sage, +"otherwise I should have to take steps to save the man condemned." + +Then after a short pause he continued: "In Sir Jasper Chambers you +have an illustration of the smallness of a great mind. He has +devoted his vast wealth to philanthropy; yet he was willing to allow +another man to be hanged for his crime." + +"And this, I take it," said Sir John Dene, "is his reply," and he +handed a letter across to Malcolm Sage. + +"Read it out," he said. + +Malcolm Sage glanced swiftly through the pages and then read:-- + +My Dear Dene,---- + +By the time you receive this letter I shall be dead. I have just +received a letter from Mr. Malcolm Sage, which shows him to be a man +of remarkable perception, and possessed of powers of analysis and +deduction that I venture to think must be unique. All he says is +correct, but for one detail. I left the laboratory in the first +instance with the deliberate intention of returning, although I did +not realise the significance of the manuscript until after I had +tampered with the fastenings of the doors. Had my servants found +that my bed had not been slept in, suspicion might have attached +itself to me. I therefore returned to remedy this, and I left a note +to say that I had gone out early for a long walk, a thing I +frequently do. + +In his experiments McMurray had succeeded beyond his wildest +imaginings, and I foresaw the horrors that must inevitably follow +such a discovery as his. I had to choose between myself and the +welfare of the race, and I chose the race. + +I did not come forward to save the man condemned for the crime, as I +regarded my life of more value to the community than his. + +Will you thank Mr. Sage for the very gentle and humane way in which +he has written calling upon me to see that justice be not outraged. + +I am sending this letter by hand. My body will be found in my study. +I have used morphia as a means of satisfying justice. + + Very sincerely yours, + Jasper Chambers. + +"It was strange I should have made that mistake about the reason for +his leaving the laboratory," said Malcolm Sage meditatively. "I made +two mistakes, one I corrected; but the other was unpardonable." + +And he knocked the ashes from his pipe on to the copper tray before +him with the air of a man who is far from satisfied. + +"And I might have arrested an O.M.," murmured Inspector Carfon, as +he walked down Whitehall. "Damn." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII THE GYLSTON SLANDER + + +"It's all very well for the Chief to sit in there like a five-guinea +palmist," Gladys Norman cried one morning, as after interviewing the +umpteenth caller that day she proceeded vigorously to powder her +nose, to the obvious interest of William Johnson; "but what about +me? If anyone else comes I must speak the truth. I haven't an unused +lie left." + +"Then you had better let Johnson have a turn," said a quiet voice +behind her. + +She span round, with flaming cheeks and white-flecked nose, to see +the steel grey eyes of Malcolm Sage gazing on her quizzically +through gold-rimmed spectacles. There was only the slightest +fluttering at the corners of his mouth. + +As his activities enlarged, Malcolm Sage's fame had increased, and +he was overwhelmed with requests for assistance. Clients bore down +upon him from all parts of the country; some even crossing the +Channel, whilst from America and the Colonies came a flood of +letters giving long, rambling details of mysteries, murders and +disappearances, all of which he was expected to solve. + +Those who wrote, however, were as nothing to those who called. They +arrived in various stages of excitement and agitation, only to be +met by Miss Gladys Norman with a stereotyped smile and the equally +stereotyped information that Mr. Malcolm Sage saw no one except by +appointment, which was never made until the nature of the would-be +client's business had been stated in writing. + +The Surrey cattle-maiming affair, and the consequent publicity it +gave to the name of Malcolm Sage, had resulted in something like a +siege of the Bureau's offices. + +"I told you so," said Lady Dene gaily to her husband, and he had +nodded his head in entire agreement. + +Malcolm Sage's success was largely due to the very quality that had +rendered him a failure as a civil servant, the elasticity of his +mind. + +He approached each problem entirely unprejudiced, weighed the +evidence, and followed the course it indicated, prepared at any +moment to retrace his steps, should they lead to a cul-de-sac. + +He admitted the importance of the Roman judicial interrogation, "cui +bono?" (whom benefits it?); yet he realised that there was always +the danger of confusing the pathological with the criminal. + +"The obvious is the correct solution of most mysteries," he had once +remarked to Sir James Walton; but there is always the possibility of +exception. + +The Surrey cattle-maiming mystery had been a case in point. Even +more so was the affair that came to be known as "The Gylston +Slander." In this case Malcolm Sage arrived at the truth by a +refusal to accept what, on the face of it, appeared to be the +obvious solution. + +It was through Roger Freynes, the eminent K.C., that he first became +interested in the series of anonymous letters that had created +considerable scandal in the little village of Gylston. + +Tucked away in the north-west corner of Hampshire, Gylston was a +village of some eight hundred inhabitants. The vicar, the Rev. John +Crayne, had held the living for some twenty years. Aided by his wife +and daughter, Muriel, a pretty and high-spirited girl of nineteen, +he devoted himself to the parish, and in return enjoyed great +popularity. + +Life at the vicarage was an ideal of domestic happiness. Mr. and Mrs. +Crayne were devoted to each other and to their daughter, and she to +them. Muriel Crayne had grown up among the villagers, devoting +herself to parish work as soon as she was old enough to do so. She +seemed to find her life sufficient for her needs, and many were the +comparisons drawn by other parents in Gylston between the vicar's +daughter and their own restless offspring. + +A year previously a new curate had arrived in the person of the Rev. +Charles Blade. His frank, straightforward personality, coupled with +his good looks and masculine bearing, had caused him to be greatly +liked, not only by the vicar and his family, but by all the +parishioners. + +Suddenly and without warning the peace of the vicarage was destroyed. +One morning Mr. Crayne received by post an anonymous letter, in +which the names of his daughter and the curate were linked together +in a way that caused him both pain, and anxiety. + +A man with a strong sense of honour himself, he cordially despised +the anonymous letter-writer, and his first instinct had been to +ignore that which he had just received. On second thoughts, however, +he reasoned that the writer would be unlikely to rest content with a +single letter; but would, in all probability, make the same +calumnious statements to others. + +After consulting with his wife, he had reluctantly questioned his +daughter. At first she was inclined to treat the matter lightly; but +on the grave nature of the accusations being pointed out to her, she +had become greatly embarrassed and assured him that the curate had +never been more than ordinarily attentive to her. + +The vicar decided to allow the matter to rest there, and accordingly +he made no mention of the letter to Blade. + +A week later his daughter brought him a letter she had found lying +in the vicarage grounds. It contained a passionate declaration of +love, and ended with a threat of what might happen if the writer's +passion were not reciprocated. + +Although the letter was unsigned, the vicar could not disguise from +himself the fact that there was a marked similarity between the +handwriting of the two anonymous letters and that of his curate. He +decided, therefore, to ask Blade if he could throw any light on the +matter. + +At first the young man had appeared bewildered; then he had pledged +his word of honour, not only that he had not written the letters, +but that there was no truth in the statements they contained. + +With that the vicar had to rest content; but worse was to follow. + +Two evenings later, one of the churchwardens called at the vicarage +and, after behaving in what to the vicar seemed a very strange +manner, he produced from his pocket a letter he had received that +morning, in which were repeated the scandalous statements contained +in the first epistle. + +From then on the district was deluged with anonymous letters, all +referring to the alleged passion of the curate for the vicar's +daughter, and the intrigue they were carrying on together. Some of +the letters were frankly indelicate in their expression and, as the +whole parish seethed with the scandal, the vicar appealed to the +police for aid. + +One peculiarity of the letters was that all were written upon the +same paper, known as "Olympic Script." This was supplied locally to +a number of people in the neighbourhood, among others, the vicar, +the curate, and the schoolmaster. + +Soon the story began to find its way into the newspapers, and +Blade's position became one full of difficulty and embarrassment. He +had consulted Robert Freynes, who had been at Oxford with his father, +and the K.C., convinced of the young man's innocence, had sought +Malcolm Sage's aid. + +"You see, Sage," Freynes had remarked, "I'm sure the boy is straight +and incapable of such conduct; but it's impossible to talk to that +ass Murdy. He has no more imagination than a tin-linnet." + +Freynes's reference was to Chief Inspector Murdy, of Scotland Yard, +who had been entrusted with the enquiry, the local police having +proved unequal to the problem. + +Although Malcolm Sage had promised Robert Freynes that he would +undertake the enquiry into the Gylston scandal, it was not until +nearly a week later that he found himself at liberty to motor down +into Hampshire. + +One afternoon the vicar of Gylston, on entering his church, found a +stranger on his knees in the chancel. Note-book in hand, he was +transcribing the inscription of a monumental brass. + +As the vicar approached, he observed that the stranger was +vigorously shaking a fountain-pen, from which the ink had evidently +been exhausted. + +At the sound of Mr. Crayne's footsteps the stranger looked up, +turning towards him a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, above which a +bald conical head seemed to contradict the keenness of the eyes and +the youthful lines of the face beneath. + +"You are interested in monumental brasses?" enquired the vicar, as +he entered the chancel, and the stranger rose to his feet. "I am the +vicar," he explained. There was a look of eager interest in the pale +grey eyes that looked out from a placid, scholarly face. + +"I was taking the liberty of copying the inscription on this," +replied Malcolm Sage, indicating the time-worn brass at his feet, +"only unfortunately my fountain-pen has given out." + +"There is pen and ink in the vestry," said the vicar, impressed by +the fact that the stranger had chosen the finest brass in the church, +one that had been saved from Cromwell's Puritans by the ingenuity of +the then incumbent, who had caused it to be covered with cement. +Then as an afterthought the vicar added, "I can get your pen filled +at the vicarage. My daughter has some ink; she always uses a +fountain-pen." + +Malcolm Sage thanked him, and for the next half-hour the vicar +forgot the worries of the past few weeks in listening to a man who +seemed to have the whole subject of monumental brasses and Norman +architecture at his finger-ends. + +Subsequently Malcolm Sage was invited to the vicarage, where another +half-hour was occupied in Mr. Crayne showing him his collection of +books on brasses. + +As Malcolm Sage made a movement to depart, the vicar suddenly +remembered the matter of the ink, apologised for his remissness, and +left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of +fountain-pen ink. Malcolm Sage drew from his pocket his pen, and +proceeded to replenish the ink from the bottle. Finally he completed +the transcription of the lettering of the brass from a rubbing +produced by the vicar. + +Reluctant to allow so interesting a visitor to depart, Mr. Crayne +pressed him to take tea; but Malcolm Sage pleaded an engagement. + +As they crossed the hall, a fair girl suddenly rushed out from a +door on the right. She was crying hysterically. Her hair was +disordered, her deep violet eyes rimmed with red, and her moist lips +seemed to stand out strangely red against the alabaster paleness of +her skin. + +"Muriel!" + +Malcolm Sage glanced swiftly at the vicar. The look of scholarly +calm had vanished from his features, giving place to a set sternness +that reflected the tone in which he had uttered his daughter's name. + +At the sight of a stranger the girl had paused, then, as if +realising her tear-stained face and disordered hair, she turned and +disappeared through the door from which she had rushed. + +"My daughter," murmured the vicar, a little sadly, Malcolm Sage +thought. "She has always been very highly strung and emotional," he +added, as if considering some explanation necessary. "We have to be +very stern with her on such occasions. It is the only way to repress +it." + +"You find it answers?" remarked Malcolm Sage. + +"She has been much better lately, although she has been sorely tried. +Perhaps you have heard." + +Malcolm Sage nodded absently, as he gazed intently at the thumb-nail +of his right hand. A minute later he was walking down the drive, his +thoughts occupied with the pretty daughter of the vicar of Gylston. + +At the curate's lodgings he was told that Mr. Blade was away, and +would not return until late that night. + +As he turned from the gate, Malcolm Sage encountered a pale-faced, +narrow-shouldered man with a dark moustache and a hard, peevish +mouth. + +To Malcolm Sage's question as to which was the way to the inn, he +nodded in the direction from which he had come and continued on his +way. + +"A man who has failed in what he set out to accomplish," was Malcolm +Sage's mental diagnosis of John Gray, the Gylston schoolmaster. + +It was not long before Malcolm Sage realised that the village of +Gylston was intensely proud of itself. It had seen in the London +papers accounts of the mysterious scandal of which it was the centre. +A Scotland Yard officer had been down, and had subjected many of the +inhabitants to a careful cross-examination. In consequence Gylston +realised that it was a village to be reckoned with. + +The Tired Traveller was the centre of all rumour and gossip. Here +each night in the public-bar, or in the private-parlour, according +to their social status, the inhabitants would forgather and discuss +the problem of the mysterious letters. Every sort of theory was +advanced, and every sort of explanation offered. Whilst popular +opinion tended to the view that the curate was the guilty party, +there were some who darkly shook their heads and muttered, "We shall +see." + +It was remembered and discussed with relish that John Gray, the +schoolmaster, had for some time past shown a marked admiration for +the vicar's daughter. She, however, had made it clear that the +cadaverous, saturnine pedagogue possessed for her no attractions. + +During the half-hour that Malcolm Sage spent at The Tired Traveller, +eating a hurried meal, he heard all there was to be heard about +local opinion. + +The landlord, a rubicund old fellow whose baldness extended to his +eyelids, was bursting with information. By nature capable of making +a mystery out of a sunbeam, he revelled in the scandal that hummed +around him. + +After a quarter of an hour's conversation, the landlord's +conversation, Malcolm Sage found himself possessed of a bewildering +amount of new material. + +"A young gal don't have them highsterics for nothin'," my host +remarked darkly. "Has fits of 'em every now and then ever since she +was a flapper, sobbin' and cryin' fit to break 'er heart, and the +vicar that cross with her." + +"That is considered the best way to treat hysterical people," +remarked Malcolm Sage. + +"Maybe," was the reply, "but she's only a gal, and a pretty one +too," he added inconsequently. + +"Then there's the schoolmaster," he continued, "'ates the curate +like poison, he does. Shouldn't be surprised if it was him that done +it. 'E's always been a bit sweet in that quarter himself, has Mr. +Gray. Got talked about a good deal one time, 'angin' about arter +Miss Muriel," added the loquacious publican. + +By the time Malcolm Sage had finished his meal, the landlord was +well in his stride of scandalous reminiscence. It was with obvious +reluctance that he allowed so admirable a listener to depart, and it +was with manifest regret that he watched Malcolm Sage's car +disappear round the curve in the road. + +A little way beyond the vicarage, an admonitory triangle caused Tims +to slow up. Just by the bend Malcolm Sage observed a youth and a +girl standing in the recess of a gate giving access to a meadow. +Although they were in the shadow cast by the hedge, Malcolm Sage's +quick eyes recognised in the girl the vicar's daughter. The youth +looked as if he might be one of the lads of the village. + +In the short space of two or three seconds Malcolm Sage noticed the +change in the girl. Although he could not see her face very clearly, +the vivacity of her bearing and the ready laugh were suggestive of a +gaiety contrasting strangely with the tragic figure he had seen in +the afternoon. + +Muriel Crayne was obviously of a very mercurial temperament, he +decided, as the car swung round the bend. + +The next morning, in response to a telephone message, Inspector +Murdy called on Malcolm Sage. + +"Well, Mr. Sage," he cried, as he shook hands, "going to have +another try to teach us our job," and his blue eyes twinkled +good-humouredly. + +The inspector had already made up his mind. He was a man with +many successes to his record, achieved as a result of undoubted +astuteness in connection with the grosser crimes, such as +train-murders, post-office hold-ups and burglaries. He was incapable, +however, of realising that there existed a subtler form of +law-breaking, arising from something more intimately associated with +the psychic than the material plane. + +"Did you see Mr. Blade?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"Saw the whole blessed lot," was the cheery reply. "It's all as +clear as milk," and he laughed. + +"What did Mr. Blade say?" enquired Malcolm Sage, looking keenly +across at the inspector. + +"Just that he had nothing to say." + +"His exact words. Can you remember them?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +"Oh, yes!" replied the inspector. "He said, 'Inspector Murdy, I have +nothing to say,' and then he shut up like a real Whitstable." + +"He was away yesterday," remarked Malcolm Sage, who then told the +inspector of his visit. "How about John Gray, the schoolmaster?" he +queried. + +"He practically told me to go to the devil," was the genial reply. +Inspector Murdy was accustomed to rudeness; his profession invited +it, and to his rough-and-ready form of reasoning, rudeness meant +innocence; politeness guilt. + +He handed to Malcolm Sage a copy of a list of people who purchased +"Olympic Script" from Mr. Grainger, the local Whiteley, volunteering +the information that the curate was the biggest consumer, as if that +settled the question of his guilt. + +"And yet the vicar would not hear of the arrest of Blade," murmured +Malcolm Sage, turning the copper ash-tray round with his restless +fingers. + +The inspector shrugged his massive shoulders. + +"Sheer good nature and kindliness, Mr. Sage," he said. "He's as +gentle as a woman." + +"I once knew a man," remarked Malcolm Sage, "who said that in the +annals of crime lay the master-key to the world's mysteries, past, +present and to come." + +"A dreamer, Mr. Sage," smiled the inspector. "We haven't time for +dreaming at the Yard," he added good-temperedly, as he rose and +shook himself like a Newfoundland dog. + +"I suppose it never struck you to look elsewhere than at the +curate's lodgings for the writer of the letters?" enquired Malcolm +Sage quietly. + +"It never strikes me to look about for someone when I'm sitting on +his chest," laughed Inspector Murdy. + +"True," said Malcolm Sage. "By the way," he continued, without +looking up, "in future can you let me see every letter as it is +received? You might also keep careful record of how they are +delivered." + +"Certainly, Mr. Sage. Anything that will make you happy." + +"Later I may get you to ask the vicar to seal up any subsequent +anonymous letters that reach him without allowing anyone to see the +contents. Do you think he would do that?" + +"Without doubt if I ask him," said the inspector, surprise in his +eyes as he looked down upon the cone of baldness beneath him, +realising what a handicap it is to talk to a man who keeps his eyes +averted. + +"He must then put the letters in a place where no one can possibly +obtain access to them. One thing more," continued Malcolm Sage, +"will you ask Miss Crayne to write out the full story of the letters +as far as she personally is acquainted with it?" + +"Very well, Mr. Sage," said the inspector, with the air of one +humouring a child. "Now I'll be going." He walked towards the door, +then suddenly stopped and turned. + +"I suppose you think I'm wrong about the curate?" + +"I'll tell you later," was the reply. + +"When you find the master-key?" laughed the inspector, as he opened +the door. + +"Yes, when I find the master-key," said Malcolm Sage quietly and, as +the door closed behind Inspector Murdy, he continued to finger the +copper ashtray as if that were the master-key. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV MALCOLM SAGE PLAYS PATIENCE + + + + +I + + +Malcolm Sage was seated at a small green-covered table playing +solitaire. A velvet smoking-jacket and a pair of wine-coloured +morocco slippers suggested that the day's work was done. + +Patience, chess, and the cinema were his unfailing sources of +inspiration when engaged upon a more than usually difficult case. He +had once told Sir James Walton that they clarified his brain and +coordinated his thoughts, the cinema in particular. The fact that in +the surrounding darkness were hundreds of other brains, vital and +active, appeared to stimulate his own imagination. + +Puffing steadily at a gigantic meerschaum, he moved the cards with a +deliberation which suggested that his attention rather than his +thoughts was absorbed in the game. + +Nearly a month had elapsed since he had agreed to take up the +enquiry into the authorship of the series of anonymous letters with +which Gylston and the neighbourhood had been flooded; yet still the +matter remained a mystery. + +A celebrated writer of detective stories had interested himself in +the affair, with the result that the Press throughout the country +had "stunted" Gylston as if it had been a heavy-weight championship, +or a train murder. + +For a fortnight Malcolm Sage had been on the Continent in connection +with the theft of the Adair Diamonds. Two days previously, after +having restored the famous jewels to Lady Adair, he had returned to +London, to find that the Gylston affair had developed a new and +dramatic phase. The curate had been arrested for an attempted +assault upon Miss Crayne and, pleading "not guilty," had been +committed for trial. + +The incident that led up to this had taken place on the day that +Malcolm Sage left London. Late that afternoon Miss Crayne had +arrived at the vicarage in a state bordering on collapse. On +becoming more collected, she stated that on returning from paying a +call, and when half-way through a copse, known locally as "Gipsies +Wood," Blade had sprung out upon her and violently protested his +passion. He had gripped hold of her wrists, the mark of his fingers +was to be seen on the delicate skin, and threatened to kill her and +himself. She had been terrified, thinking he meant to kill her. The +approach of a farm labourer had saved her, and the curate had +disappeared through the copse. + +This story was borne out by Joseph Higgins, the farm labourer in +question. He had arrived to find Miss Crayne in a state of great +alarm and agitation, and he had walked with her as far as the +vicarage gate. He did not, however, actually see the curate. + +On the strength of this statement the police had applied for a +warrant, and had subsequently arrested the curate. Later he appeared +before the magistrates, had been remanded, and finally committed for +trial, bail being allowed. + +Blade protested his innocence alike of the assault and the writing +of the letters; but two hand-writing experts had testified to the +similarity of the handwriting of the anonymous letters with that of +the curate. Furthermore, they were all written upon "Olympic +Script," the paper that Blade used for his sermons. + +Malcolm Sage had just started a new deal when the door opened, and +Rogers showed in Robert Freynes. With a nod, Malcolm Sage indicated +the chair opposite. His visitor dropped into it and, taking a pipe +from his pocket, proceeded to fill and light it. + +Placing his meerschaum on the mantelpiece, Malcolm Sage produced a +well-worn briar from his pocket, which, having got into commission, +he proceeded once more with the game. + +"It's looking pretty ugly for Blade," remarked Freynes, recognising +by the substitution of the briar for the meerschaum that Malcolm +Sage was ready for conversation. + +"Tell me." + +"It's those damned handwriting experts," growled Freynes. "They're +the greatest anomaly of our legal system. The judge always warns the +jury of the danger of accepting their evidence; yet each side +continues to produce them. It's an insult to intelligence and +justice." + +"To hang a man because his 's' resembles that of an implicating +document," remarked Malcolm Sage, as he placed a red queen on a +black knave, "is about as sensible as to imprison him because he has +the same accent as a foot-pad." + +"Then there's Blade's astonishing apathy," continued Freynes. "He +seems quite indifferent to the gravity of his position. Refuses to +say a word. Anyone might think he knew the real culprit and was +trying to shield him," and he sucked moodily at his pipe. + +"The handwriting expert," continued Malcolm Sage imperturbably, "is +too concerned with the crossing of a 't,' the dotting of an 'i,' or +the tail of a 'g,' to give time and thought to the way in which the +writer uses, for instance, the compound tenses of verbs. Blade was +no more capable of writing those letters than our friend Murdy is of +transliterating the Rosetta Stone." + +"Yes; but can we prove it?" asked Freynes gloomily, as with the +blade of a penknife he loosened the tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. +"Can we prove it?" he repeated and, snapping the knife to, he +replaced it in his pocket. + +"Blade's sermons," Malcolm Sage continued, "and such letters of his +as you have been able to collect, show that he adopted a very +definite and precise system of punctuation. He frequently uses the +colon and the semicolon, and always in the right place. In a +parenthetical clause preceded by the conjunction 'and,' he uses a +_comma_ after the 'and,' not before it as most people do. Before +such words as 'yet' and 'but,' he without exception uses a semicolon. +The word 'only,' he always puts in its correct place. In short, he +is so academic as to savour somewhat of the pomposity of the +eighteenth century." + +"Go on," said Freynes, as Malcolm Sage paused, as if to give the +other a chance of questioning his reasoning. + +"Turning to the anonymous letters," continued Malcolm Sage, "it must +be admitted that the handwriting is very similar; but there all +likeness to Blade's sermons and correspondence ends. Murdy has shown +me nearly all the anonymous letters, and in the whole series there +is not one instance of the colon or the semicolon being used. The +punctuation is of the vaguest, consisting largely of the dash, which +after all is a literary evasion. + +"In these letters the word 'but' frequently appears without any +punctuation mark before it. At other times it has a comma, a dash, +or a full stop." + +He paused and for the next two minutes devoted himself to the game +before him. Then he continued: + +"Such phrases as 'If only you knew,' 'I should have loved to have +been,' 'different than,' which appear in these letters, would have +been absolutely impossible to a man of Blade's meticulous literary +temperament." + +As Malcolm Sage spoke, Robert Freynes's brain had been working +rapidly. Presently he brought his hand down with a smack upon his +knee. + +"By heavens, Sage!" he cried, "this is a new pill for the +handwriting expert. I'll put you in the box. We've got a fighting +chance after all." + +"The most curious factor in the whole case," continued Malcolm Sage, +"is the way in which the letters were delivered. One was thrown into +a fly on to Miss Crayne's lap, she tells us, when she and her father +were driving home after dining at the Hall. Another was discovered +in the vicarage garden. A third was thrown through Miss Crayne's +bedroom window. A few of the earlier group were posted in the +neighbouring town of Whitchurch, some on days that Blade was +certainly not there." + +"That was going to be one of my strongest points," remarked Freynes. + +"The letters always imply that there is some obstacle existing +between the writer and the girl he desires. What possible object +could Blade have in writing letters to various people suggesting an +intrigue between his vicar's daughter and himself; yet these letters +were clearly written by the same hand that addressed those to the +girl, her father and her mother." + +Freynes nodded his head comprehendingly. + +"If Blade were in love with the girl," continued Malcolm Sage, "what +was there to prevent him from pressing his suit along legitimate and +accepted lines. Murdy frankly acknowledges that there has been +nothing in Blade's outward demeanour to suggest that Miss Crayne was +to him anything more than the daughter of his vicar." + +"What do you make of the story of the assault?" + +"As evidence it is worthless," replied Malcolm Sage, "being without +corroboration. The farmhand did not actually see Blade." + +Freynes nodded his agreement. + +"Having convinced myself that Blade had nothing to do with the +writing of the letters, I next tried to discover if there were +anything throwing suspicion on others in the neighbourhood, who were +known to use 'Olympic Script' as note-paper. + +"The schoolmaster, John Gray, was one. He is an admirer of Miss +Crayne, according to local gossip; but it was obvious from the first +that he had nothing to do with the affair. One by one I eliminated +all the others, until I came back once more to Blade. + +"It was clear that the letters were written with a fountain-pen, and +Blade always uses one. That, however, is not evidence, as millions +of people use fountain-pens. By the way, what is your line of +defence?" he enquired. + +"Smashing the handwriting experts," was the reply. "I was calling +four myself, on the principle that God is on the side of the big +battalions; but now I shall depend entirely on your evidence." + +"The assault?" queried Malcolm Sage. + +"There I'm done," said Freynes, "for although Miss Crayne's evidence +is not proof, it will be sufficient for a jury. Besides, she's a +very pretty and charming girl. I suppose," he added, "Blade must +have made some sort of declaration, which she, in the light of the +anonymous letters, entirely misunderstood." + +"What does he say?" + +"Denies it absolutely, although he admits being in the neighbourhood +of the 'Gipsies Wood,' and actually catching sight of Miss Crayne in +the distance; but he says he did not speak to her." + +"Is he going into the witness-box?" + +"Certainly"; then after a pause he added, "Kelton is prosecuting, +and he's as moral as a swan. He'll appeal to the jury as fathers of +daughters, and brothers of sisters." + +Malcolm Sage made no comment; but continued smoking mechanically, +his attention apparently absorbed in the cards before him. + +"If you can smash the handwriting experts," continued the K.C., "I +may be able to manage the girl's testimony." + +"It will not be necessary," said Malcolm Sage, carefully placing a +nine of clubs upon an eight of diamonds. + +"Not necessary?" + +"I have asked Murdy to come round," continued Malcolm Sage, still +intent upon his game. "I think that was his ring." + +A minute later the door opened to admit the burly inspector, more +blue-eyed and genial than ever, and obviously in the best of spirits. + +"Good evening, Mr. Sage," he cried cheerfully. "Congratulations on +the Adair business. Good evening, sir," he added, as he shook hands +with Freynes. + +He dropped heavily into a seat, and taking a cigar from the box on +the table, which Malcolm Sage had indicated with a nod, he proceeded +to light it. No man enjoyed a good cigar more than Inspector Murdy. + +"Well, what do you think of it?" he enquired, looking from Malcolm +Sage to Freynes. "It's a clear case now, I think." He slightly +stressed the word "now." + +"You mean it's Blade?" enquired Malcolm Sage, as he proceeded to +gather up the cards. + +"Who else?" enquired the inspector, through a cloud of smoke. + +"That is the question which involves your being here now, Murdy," +said Malcolm Sage dryly. + +"We've got three handwriting experts behind us," said the inspector +complacently. + +"That is precisely where they should be," retorted Malcolm Sage +quietly. "In the biblical sense," he added. + +Freynes laughed, whilst Inspector Murdy looked from one to the other. +He did not quite catch the allusion. + +"You have done as I suggested?" enquired Malcolm Sage, when he had +placed the cards in their box and removed the card-table. + +"Here are all the letters received up to a fortnight ago," said the +inspector, holding out a bulky packet. "Those received since have +each been sealed up separately by the vicar, who is keeping half of +them, whilst I have the other half; but really, Mr. Sage, I don't +understand----" + +"Thank you, Murdy," said Malcolm Sage, as he took the packet. "It is +always a pleasure to work with Scotland Yard, It is so thorough." + +The inspector beamed; for he knew the compliment was sincere. + +Without a word Malcolm Sage left the room, taking the packet with +him. + +"A bit quaint at times, ain't he, sir?" remarked Inspector Murdy to +Freynes; "but one of the best. I'd trust him with anything." + +Freynes nodded encouragingly. + +"There are some of them down at the Yard that don't like him," he +continued. "They call him 'Sage and Onions'; but most of us who have +worked with him swear by Mr. Sage. He's never out for the limelight +himself, and he's always willing to give another fellow a leg-up. +After all, it's our living," he added, a little inconsequently. + +Freynes appreciated the inspector's delicacy in refraining from any +mention of the Gylston case during Malcolm Sage's absence. After all, +they represented respectively the prosecution and the defence. For +nearly half an hour the two talked together upon unprofessional +subjects. When Malcolm Sage returned, he found them discussing the +prospects of Dempsey against Carpentier. + +Handing back the packet of letters to Inspector Murdy, Malcolm Sage +resumed his seat, and proceeded to re-light his pipe. + +"Spotted the culprit, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector, with +something that was very much like a wink in the direction of Freynes. + +"I think so," was the quiet reply. "You might meet me at Gylston +Vicarage to-morrow at three. I'll telegraph to Blade to be there too. +You had better bring the schoolmaster also." + +"You mean----" began the inspector, rising. + +"Exactly," said Malcolm Sage. "It's past eleven, and we all require +sleep." + + + + +II + + +The next afternoon the study of the vicar of Gylston presented a +strange appearance. + +Seated at Mr. Crayne's writing-table was Malcolm Sage, a small +attache-case at his side, whilst before him were several piles of +sealed packets. Grouped about the room were Inspector Murdy, Robert +Freynes, Mr. Gray, and the vicar. + +All had their eyes fixed upon Malcolm Sage; but with varying +expressions. Those of the schoolmaster were frankly cynical. The +inspector and Freynes looked as if they expected to see produced +from the attache-case a guinea-pig or a white rabbit, pink-eyed and +kicking; whilst the vicar had obviously not yet recovered from his +surprise at discovering that the stranger, who had shown such a +remarkable knowledge of monumental brasses and Norman architecture, +was none other than the famous investigator about whom he had read +so much in the newspapers. + +With quiet deliberation Malcolm Sage opened the attache-case and +produced a spirit lamp, which he lighted. He then placed a metal +plate upon a rest above the flame. On this he imposed a thicker +plate of a similar metal that looked like steel; but it had a handle +across the middle, rather resembling that of a tool used by +plasterers. + +He then glanced up, apparently unconscious of the almost feverish +interest with which his every movement was being watched. + +"I should like Miss Crayne to be present," he said. + +As he spoke the door opened and the curate entered, his dark, +handsome face lined and careworn. It was obvious that he had +suffered. He bowed, and then looked about him, without any +suggestion of embarrassment. + +Malcolm Sage rose and held out his hand; Freynes followed suit. + +"Ask Miss Muriel to come here," said the vicar to the maid as she +was closing the door. + +The curate took the seat that Malcolm Sage indicated beside him. +Silently the six men waited. + +A few minutes later Miss Crayne entered, pale but self-possessed. +She closed the door behind her. Suddenly she caught sight of the +curate. Her eyes widened, and her paleness seemed to become +accentuated. A moment later it was followed by a crimson flush. She +hesitated, her hands clenched at her side, then with a manifest +effort she appeared to control herself and, with a slight smile and +inclination of her head, took the chair the schoolmaster moved +towards her. Instinctively she turned her eyes toward Malcolm Sage. + +"Inspector Murdy," he said, without raising his eyes, "will you +please open two of those packets?" He indicated the pile upon his +left. "I should explain," he continued, "that each of these contains +one of the most recent of the series of letters with which we are +concerned. Each was sealed up by Mr. Crayne immediately it reached +him, in accordance with Inspector Murdy's request. Therefore, only +the writer, the recipient and the vicar have had access to these +letters." + +Malcolm Sage turned his eyes interrogatingly upon Mr. Crayne, who +bowed. + +Meanwhile the inspector had cut open the two top envelopes, unfolded +the sheets of paper they contained, and handed them to Malcolm Sage. + +All eyes were fixed upon his long, shapely fingers as he smoothed +out one of the sheets of paper upon the vicar's blotting-pad. Then, +lifting the steel plate by the handle, he placed it upon the +upturned sheet of paper. + +The tension was almost unendurable. The heavy breathing of Inspector +Murdy seemed like the blowing of a grampus. Mr. Gray glanced across +at him irritably. The vicar coughed slightly, then looked startled +that he had made so much noise. + +Everyone bent forward, eagerly expecting something; yet without +quite knowing what. Malcolm Sage lifted the metal plate from the +letter. There in the centre of the page, in bluish-coloured letters, +which had not been there when the paper was smoothed out upon the +blotting-pad, appeared the words:---- + + Malcolm Sage, + August 12th, 1919. + No. 138. + +For some moments they all gazed at the paper as if the mysterious +blue letters exercised upon them some hypnotic influence. + +"Secret ink!" + +It was Robert Freynes who spoke. Accustomed as he was to dramatic +moments, he was conscious of a strange dryness at the back of his +throat, and a consequent huskiness of voice. + +His remark seemed to break the spell. Instinctively everyone turned +to him. The significance of the bluish-coloured characters was +slowly dawning upon the inspector; but the others still seemed +puzzled to account for their presence. + +Immediately he had lifted the plate from the letter, Malcolm Sage +had drawn a sheet of plain sermon paper from the rack before him. +This he subjected to the same treatment as the letter. When a few +seconds later he exposed it, there in the centre appeared the same +words:---- + + Malcolm Sage, + August 12th, 1919. + +but on this sheet the number was 203. + +Then the true significance of the two sheets of paper seemed to dawn +upon the onlookers. + +Suddenly there was a scream, and Muriel Crayne fell forward on to +the floor. + +"Oh! father, father, forgive me!" she cried, and the next moment she +was beating the floor with her hands in violent hysterics. + + + + +III + + +"From the first I suspected the truth," remarked Malcolm Sage, as he, +Robert Freynes and Inspector Murdy sat smoking in the car that Tims +was taking back to London at its best pace. "Eighty-five years ago a +somewhat similar case occurred in France, that of Marie de Morel, +when an innocent man was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment, and +actually served eight before the truth was discovered." + +The inspector whistled under his breath. + +"This suspicion was strengthened by the lengthy account of the +affair written by Miss Crayne, which Murdy obtained from her. The +punctuation, the phrasing, the inaccurate use of auxiliary verbs, +were identical with that of the anonymous letters. + +"Another point was that the similarity of the handwriting of the +anonymous letters to Blade's became more pronounced as the letters +themselves multiplied. The writer was becoming more expert as an +imitator." + +Freynes nodded his head several times. + +"The difficulty, however, was to prove it," continued Malcolm Sage. +"There was only one way; to substitute secretly marked paper for +that in use at the vicarage. + +"I accordingly went down to Gylston, and the vicar found me keenly +interested in monumental brasses, his pet subject, and Norman +architecture. He invited me to the vicarage. In his absence from his +study I substituted a supply of marked Olympic Script in place of +that in his letter-rack, and also in the drawer of his writing-table. +As a further precaution, I arranged for my fountain-pen to run out +of ink. He kindly supplied me with a bottle, obviously belonging to +his daughter. I replenished my pen, which was full of a chemical +that would enable me, if necessary, to identify any letter in the +writing of which it had been used. When I placed my pen, which is a +self-filler, in the ink, I forced this liquid into the bottle." + +The inspector merely stared. Words had forsaken him for the moment. + +"It was then necessary to wait until the ink in Miss Crayne's pen +had become exhausted, and she had to replenish her supply of paper +from her father's study. After that discovery was inevitable." + +"But suppose she had denied it?" questioned the inspector. + +"There was the ink which she alone used, and which I could +identify," was the reply. + +"Why did you ask Gray to be present?" enquired Freynes. + +"As his name had been associated with the scandal it seemed only +fair," remarked Malcolm Sage, then turning to Inspector Murdy he +said, "I shall leave it to you, Murdy, to see that a proper +confession is obtained. The case has had such publicity that Mr. +Blade's innocence must be made equally public." + +"You may trust me, Mr. Sage," said the inspector. "But why did the +curate refuse to say anything?" + +"Because he is a high-minded and chivalrous gentleman," was the +quiet reply. + +"He knew?" cried Freynes. + +"Obviously," said Malcolm Sage. "It is the only explanation of his +silence. I taxed him with it after the girl had been taken away, and +he acknowledged that his suspicions amounted almost to certainty." + +"Yet he stayed behind," murmured the inspector with the air of a man +who does not understand. "I wonder why?" + +"To minister to the afflicted, Murdy," said Malcolm Sage. "That is +the mission of the Church." + +"I suppose you meant that French case when you referred to the +'master-key,'" remarked the inspector, as if to change the subject. + +Malcolm Sage nodded. + +"But how do you account for Miss Crayne writing such letters about +herself?" enquired the inspector, with a puzzled expression in his +eyes. "Pretty funny letters some of them for a parson's daughter." + +"I'm not a pathologist, Murdy," remarked Malcolm Sage drily, "but +when you try to suppress hysteria in a young girl by sternness, it's +about as effectual as putting ointment on a plague-spot." + +"Sex-repression?" queried Freynes. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders; then after a pause, during +which he lighted the pipe he had just re-filled, he added: + +"When you are next in Great Russell Street, drop in at the British +Museum and look at the bust of Faustina. You will see that her chin +is similar in modelling to that of Miss Crayne. The girl was +apparently very much attracted to Blade, and proceeded to weave what +was no doubt to her a romance, later it became an obsession. It all +goes to show the necessity for pathological consideration of certain +crimes." + +"But who was Faustina?" enquired the inspector, unable to follow the +drift of the conversation. + +"Faustina," remarked Malcolm Sage, "was the domestic fly in the +philosophical ointment of an emperor," and Inspector Murdy laughed; +for, knowing nothing of the marriage or the _Meditations_ of Marcus +Aurelius, it seemed to him the only thing to do. + + + + +CHAPTER XV THE MISSING HEAVYWEIGHT + + + + +I + + +"Mr. Doulton, sir. Very important." Rogers had carefully assimilated +his master's theory of the economy of words, sometimes even to the +point of obscuring his meaning. + +Taking the last piece of toast from the rack, Malcolm Sage with +great deliberation proceeded to butter it. Then, with a nod to the +waiting Rogers, he poured out the last cup of coffee the pot +contained. + +A moment later the door opened to admit a clean-shaven little man of +about fifty, prosperous in build and appearance; but obviously +labouring under some great excitement. His breath came in short, +spasmodic gasps. His thin sandy hair had clearly not been brushed +since the day before, whilst his chin and upper lip bore obvious +traces of a night's growth of beard. He seemed on the point of +collapse. + +"He's gone--disappeared!" he burst out, as Rogers closed the door +behind him. Malcolm Sage rose, motioned his caller to a chair at the +table, and resumed his own seat. + +"Had breakfast?" he enquired quietly, resuming his occupation of +getting the toast carefully and artistically buttered. + +"Good God, man!" exploded Mr. Doulton, almost hysterically. "Don't +you understand? Burns has disappeared!" + +"I gathered as much," said Malcolm Sage calmly, as he reached for +the marmalade. + +"Pond telephoned from Stainton," continued Mr. Doulton. "I was in +Fed. I got dressed, and came round here at once. I----" he stopped +suddenly, as Rogers entered with a fresh relay of coffee. Without a +word he proceeded to pour out a cup for Mr. Doulton, who, after a +moment's hesitation, drank it greedily. + +Rogers glanced interrogatingly from the dish that had contained eggs +and bacon to Malcolm Sage, who nodded. + +When he had withdrawn, Mr. Doulton opened his mouth to speak, then +closed it again and gazed at Malcolm Sage, who, having superimposed +upon the butter a delicate amber film of marmalade, proceeded to cut +up the toast into a series of triangles. Apparently it was the only +thing in life that interested him. + +For weeks past the British and American sporting world had thought +and talked of nothing but the forthcoming fight between Charley +Burns and Bob Jefferson for the heavyweight championship of the +world. The event was due to take place two days hence at the Olympia +for a purse of 40,000 pounds offered by Mr. Montague Doulton, the +prince of impresarios. + +Never had a contest been looked forward to with greater eagerness +than the Burns v. Jefferson match. A great change had come over +public opinion in regard to prize-fighting, thanks to the elevating +influence of Mr. Doulton. It was no longer referred to as +"brutalising" and "debasing." Refined and nice-minded people found +themselves mildly interested and patriotically hopeful that Charley +Burns, the British champion, would win. In two years Mr. Doulton had +achieved what the National Sporting Club had failed to do in a +quarter of a century. + +Long and patiently he had laboured to bring about this match, which +many thought would prove the keystone to the arch of Burns's fame, +incidentally to that of the impresario himself. + +"And now he's disappeared--clean gone." Mr. Doulton almost sobbed. + +"Tell me." + +Malcolm Sage looked up from his plate, the last triangle of toast +poised between finger and thumb. + +In short staccatoed sentences, like bursts from a machine-gun, Mr. +Doulton proceeded to tell his story. + +That morning at six o'clock, when Alf Pond, Burns's trainer, had +entered his room to warn him that it was time to get up, he found it +unoccupied. At first he thought that Burns had gone down before him; +but immediately his eye fell on the bed, and he saw that it had not +been slept in, he became alarmed. + +Going to the bedroom door, he had shouted to the sparring-partners, +and soon the champion's room was filled with men in various stages +of deshabille. + +Only for a moment, however, had they remained inactive. At Alf +Pond's word of command they had spread helter-skelter over the house +and grounds, causing the early morning air to echo with their shouts +for "Charley." + +When at length he became assured that Burns had disappeared, Alf +Pond telephoned first to Mr. Doulton and then to Mr. Papwith, +Burns's backer. + +"I told Pond to do nothing and tell no one," said Mr. Doulton, in +conclusion, "and when I left my rooms my man was trying to get +through to Papwith to ask him to keep the story to himself." + +Malcolm Sage nodded approval. + +"Now, what's to be done?" He looked at Malcolm Sage with the air of +a man who has just told a doctor of his alarming symptoms, and +almost breathlessly awaits the verdict. + +"Breakfast, a shave, then we'll motor down to Stainton," and Malcolm +Sage proceeded to fill his briar, his whole attention absorbed in +the operation. + +A moment later Rogers entered with a fresh supply of eggs and bacon. +Mr. Doulton shook his head. Instinctively his hand had gone up to +his unshaven chin. It was probably the first time in his life that +he had sat at table without shaving. He prided himself upon his +personal appearance. In his younger days he had been known as "Dandy +Doulton." + +"The car in half an hour, Rogers," said Malcolm Sage, as he rose +from the table. "When you've finished," he said, turning to Mr. +Doulton, "Rogers will give you hot water, a razor and anything else +you want. By the time you have shaved I shall be ready." + +"But don't you see----Think what it----" began Mr. Doulton. + +"An empty stomach neither sees nor thinks," was Malcolm Sage's +oracular retort, and he went over to the window and seated himself +at his writing-table. + +For the next half-hour he was engaged with his correspondence, and +in telephoning instructions to his office. + +By the time Mr. Doulton had breakfasted and shaved, the car was at +the door. + +During the run to Stainton both men were silent. Mr. Doulton was +speculating as to what would happen at the Olympia on the following +night if Burns failed to appear, whilst Malcolm Sage was occupied +with thoughts, the object of which was to prevent such a catastrophe. + +"They're sure to say it's a yellow streak," Mr. Doulton burst out on +one occasion; but, as Malcolm Sage took no notice of the remark, he +subsided into silence, and the car hummed its way along the +Portsmouth Road. + +Burns's training-quarters were situated at Stainton, near +Guildford. Here, under the vigilant eye of Alf Pond, and with the +help of a large retinue of sparring-partners, he was getting himself +into what had come to be called "Burns's condition," which meant +that he would enter the ring trained to the minute. Never did +athlete work more conscientiously than Charley Burns. + +As the car turned into a side road, flanked on either hand by elms, +Mr. Doulton tapped on the wind-screen, and Tims pulled up. Malcolm +Sage had requested that the car be stopped a hundred yards before it +reached "The Grove," where the training quarters were situated. + +"Wait for me here," he said, as he got out. + +"It's the first gate on the right," said Mr. Doulton. + +Walking slowly away from the car, Malcolm Sage examined with great +care the road itself. Presently he stopped and, taking from his +pocket a steel spring-measure, he proceeded to measure a portion of +the surface of the dusty roadway. Having made several entries in a +note-book, he then turned back to the car, his eyes still on the +road. + +Instructing Tims to remain where he was, Malcolm Sage motioned to Mr. +Doulton to get out. + +"This way," said Malcolm Sage, leading him to the extreme left-hand +side of the road. Turning into the gates of "The Grove," they walked +up the drive towards the house. In front stood a group of men in +various and nondescript costumes. + +As Malcolm Sage and Mr. Doulton approached, a man in a soiled white +sweater and voluminous grey flannel trousers, generously turned up +at the extremities, detached himself from the group and came towards +them. He was puffy of face, with pouched eyes and a moist skin; yet +in his day Alf Pond had been an unbeatable middle-weight, and the +greatest master of ring-craft of his time; but that was nearly a +generation ago. + +In agonised silence he looked from Mr. Doulton to Malcolm Sage, then +back again to Mr. Doulton. There was in his eyes the misery of +despair. + +The preliminary greetings over, Alf Pond led the way round to a +large coach-house in the rear, which had been fitted up as a +gymnasium. Here were to be seen all the appliances necessary to the +training of a boxer for a great contest, including a roped ring at +one end. + +"He was here only yesterday." There was a world of tragedy and +pathos in Alf Pond's tone. Something like a groan burst from the +sparring-partners. + +With a quick, comprehensive glance, Malcolm Sage seemed to take in +every detail. + +"It's a bad business, Pond," said Mr. Doulton, who found the mute +despair of these hard-living, hard-hitting men rather embarrassing. + +"What'd I better do?" queried Alf Pond. + +"I've put the whole matter in Mr. Sage's hands," said Mr. Doulton. +"He'll find him, if anyone can." + +A score of eyes were turned speculatively upon Malcolm Sage. In none +was there the least ray of hope. All had now made up their minds +that Jefferson would win the fight by default. + +Slowly and methodically Malcolm Sage drew the story of Burns's +disappearance from Alf Pond, the sparring-partners occasionally +acting as a chorus. + +When all had been told, Malcolm Sage gazed for some moments at the +finger-nails of his left hand. + +"You were confident he would win?" he asked at length. + +"Confident!" There was incredulity and wonder in Alf Pond's voice. +Then, with a sudden inspiration, "Look at Kid!" he cried--"look at +him!" and he indicated with a nod a fair-haired giant standing on +his right. + +Malcolm Sage looked. + +The man's face showed the stress and strain of battle. His nose had +taken on something of the quality of cubism, his right eye was out +of commission, and there was an ugly purple patch on his left cheek, +and his right ear looked as if a wasp had stung it. + +"He did that in one round, and him the third. Kid asked for it, and +he got it, same as Jeff would," explained Alf Pond proudly, a +momentary note of elation in his voice. There was also something of +pride in the grin with which Kid stood the scrutiny of the others. + +"Do you know of any reason why Burns should have left his room?" +Malcolm Sage looked from one to the other interrogatingly. + +"There wasn't any," was Alf Pond's response, and the others nodded +their concurrence. + +"He knew no one in the neighbourhood?" + +"No one to speak of. A few local gents would drop in occasional to +see how he was getting on, and then a lot o' newspaper chaps came +down from London." There was that in Alf Pond's tone which seemed to +suggest that in his opinion such questions were foolish. + +"Did he receive any letters or telegrams yesterday?" was the next +question. + +"Letters!" Alf Pond laughed sardonically. "Shoals of 'em. He'd turn +'em all over to Sandy Lane," indicating a red-headed man on the +right. + +"He wasn't much at writing letters," said Sandy Lane, by way of +explanation. + +"His hands were made for better things," cried Alf Pond scornfully, +and the sparring-partners nodded their agreement. + +"Did he turn over to you the _whole_ of his correspondence?" asked +Malcolm Sage, turning to Sandy Lane. + +"Sometimes he'd keep a letter," broke in Alf Pond, "but not often. +Sort of personal," he added, as if to explain the circumstance. + +"From a woman, perhaps?" suggested Malcolm Sage, taking off his hat +and stroking the back of his head. + +"Woman!" cried Alf Pond scornfully; "Charley hadn't no use for women, +or he wouldn't have been the boxer he was." + +"He was quite himself, quite natural, yesterday?" asked Malcolm Sage. + +"Quite himself," repeated Alf Pond deliberately; then, once more +indicating Kid, he added, "Look at Kid; that's what he done in one +round." There was in his tone all the contempt of knowledge for +ignorance. + +Malcolm Sage resumed his hat and, taking his pipe from his pocket, +proceeded to stuff it with tobacco, as if that were the only problem +in the world. On everything he did he seemed to concentrate his +entire attention to the exclusion of all else. + +"No smokin' here, if _you_ please," said Alf Pond sharply. + +Malcolm Sage returned his pipe to his pocket without comment. + +"Now, what are you going to do?" There was challenge in Alf Pond's +voice as he eyed Malcolm Sage with disfavour. In his world men with +bald, conical heads and gold-rimmed spectacles did not count for +much. + +"How many people know of the disappearance?" enquired Malcolm Sage, +ignoring the question. + +"Outside of us here, only Mr. Papwith," was the response. + +For fully a minute Malcolm Sage did not reply. At length he turned +to Mr. Doulton. + +"Can you arrange to remain here to meet Mr. Papwith?" he enquired. + +"I propose doing so," was the reply. + +"You want to find Burns, I suppose?" Malcolm Sage asked of Alf Pond, +in low, level tones. + +Alf Pond and his colleagues eyed him as if he had asked a most +astonishing question. + +"You barmy?" demanded the trainer, putting into words the looks of +the others. + +"You will continue with the day's work as if nothing had happened," +continued Malcolm Sage. "No one outside must know that----" + +"But how the hell are we going to do that with Charley gone?" broke +in Alf Pond, taking a step forward with clenched fists. + +"Your friend here," indicating Kid, "can pose as Burns," was Malcolm +Sage's quiet reply, as he looked into the trainer's eye without the +flicker of an eyelash. + +"You, Mr. Doulton, I will ask to remain here with Mr. Papwith until +I communicate with you. On no account leave the training-quarters, +even if you have to wait here until to-morrow evening." + +"But----" began Alf Pond; then he stopped and gazed at the +sparring-partners, blinking his eyes in stupid bewilderment. + +"Have I your promise?" enquired Malcolm Sage of Mr. Doulton. + +"As far as I am concerned, yes," was the response, "and I think I +can answer for Papwith. It's very inconvenient, though." + +"Not so inconvenient as having to explain things at the Olympia +to-morrow night," remarked Malcolm Sage drily. "Now," he continued, +turning once more to Alf Pond, "I suppose you've all got something +on this fight." + +"Something on it!" cried Alf Pond; then, turning to the +sparring-partners, he cried, "He asks if we've got somethink on it. +My Gawd!" he groaned, "we got our shirts on it. That's what we got +on it, our shirts," and his voice broke in something like a sob. + +"You had better post someone at the gate to tell all enquirers that +Burns is doing well and is confident of winning," said Malcolm Sage +to Mr. Doulton, "and keep an eye on the telephone. Tell anyone who +rings up the same; in fact"--and he turned to the others--"as far as +you are concerned, Burns is still with you. Do you understand?" + +They looked at one another in a way that was little suggestive of +understanding. + +"Did Burns wear the same clothes throughout the day?" asked Malcolm +Sage of the trainer. + +"Course he didn't!" Alf Pond made no effort to disguise the contempt +he felt. "In the daytime he used to wear flannel trousers an' a +sweater, same as me, except when he was sparrin', then he put on +drawers. Always would have everythink same as it was goin' to be, +would Charley--seconds, referee, timekeeper. Said it made him feel +at home when the time came. Quaint he was in some of his ideas." + +"Then from the time he got up until bedtime he wore the same +clothes?" queried Malcolm Sage, without looking up from the +inevitable contemplation of his finger-nails. + +"No he didn't." Alf Pond spat his boredom at these useless questions +into a far corner. "He was always a bit of a nib, was Charley. After +he'd finished the day's work he'd put on a suit o' dark duds, a +white collar, a watch on his wrist, an' all that bunko. Then we'd +play poker or billiards till half-past eight, when we'd all turn +in." The look with which Alf Pond concluded this itinerary plainly +demanded if there were any more damn silly questions coming. + +"Now I should like to see Burns's room." + +Malcolm Sage and Mr. Doulton followed Alf Pond upstairs to a large +room on the first floor, as destitute of the attributes of comfort +as a guardroom. A bed, a wash-hand stand, and a chest of drawers +comprised the furniture. A few articles of clothing were strewn +about, and in one corner lay a pair of dumb-bells. + +The windows were open top and bottom. Malcolm Sage passed from one +to the other and looked out. He examined carefully each of the +window-ledges. + +"Are these the clothes he wore when he got up?" he enquired, +indicating a sweater and a pair of flannel trousers that lay on a +chair. + +Alf Pond nodded. + +Swiftly Malcolm Sage felt in the pockets. There was nothing there. A +minute later he left the room, followed by the others. Descending +the stairs, he passed along the hall and out on to the short drive, +accompanied by Mr. Doulton and Alf Pond. + +Half-way towards the gate Malcolm Sage stopped. + +"You will hear from me some time to-day or to-morrow," he said. "Do +exactly as I have said and, if I don't telephone before to-morrow +evening, go to the Olympia as if Burns were to be there. You might +have sent out to my car a pair of drawers and boots in case I find +him." + +"You're going to find him then?" Alf Pond suddenly gripped Malcolm +Sage's arm with what was almost ferocity. + +Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders. + +"If you do as I tell you, it will help. By the way," he added, "if +you have time, you might put twenty-five pounds on Burns for me. Mr. +Doulton will be responsible for the amount. Now I want to look about +me," and with that Malcolm Sage walked a few steps down the drive, +leaving two men staring after him as if he had either solved or +propounded the riddle of the universe. + +For some minutes he stood in the centre of the drive, looking about +him. Stepping to the right, he glanced back at the house, and then +towards the road. Finally he made for a large clump of rhododendrons +that lay between the road and the house. + +Motioning the others to remain where they were on the gravelled +drive, he walked to a clear space of short grass between the +rhododendrons and the hedge bordering the road. + +Going down upon his knees, he proceeded to examine the ground with +great care and attention. For nearly half an hour he crawled from +place to place, absorbed in grass, shrub, and flower-bed. Finally he +penetrated half into the privet-hedge that bordered the road. + +The sparring-partners had now joined the other two on the drive, and +the group stood watching the strange movements of the man who, in +their opinion, had already shown obvious symptoms of insanity. + +Presently Malcolm Sage emerged from the hedge, in his hand a long +cigar, round the centre of which was a red-and-gold band. For fully +a minute he stood examining this with great care. Then, taking a +letter-case from his pocket, he carefully placed the cigar in the +hinge, returned the case to his pocket, and rejoined the group of +wide-eyed spectators. + +"Found anythink?" enquired Alf Pond eagerly. + +"Several things," replied Malcolm Sage. + +"What?" The men grouped themselves round him, breathless with +interest. + +"By the way," said Malcolm Sage, turning to Alf Pond, "does Burns +happen to smoke long Havana cigars with a red----" + +"Smoke!" yelled Alf Pond in horror. "Him smoke! You blinkin' well +barmy?" he demanded, looking Malcolm Sage up and down as if +meditating an attack upon him. "I'd like to see the man who'd so +much as dare to strike a match here," and he glared about him +angrily, whilst the sparring-partners shuffled their feet and +murmured among themselves. There was just the suspicion of a +fluttering at the corners of Malcolm Sage's mouth. + +"I'm afraid Pond is rather excited just at present," said Mr. +Doulton tactfully. By now he had entirely regained his own composure. +"Burns is a great lover of tobacco, and Pond takes no risks. You +were saying that you had discovered several things?" + +Again the group of men drew closer to Malcolm Sage, their heads +thrust forward as if fearful of missing a word. + +"For one thing, Burns left his room last night to meet a woman +by----" + +"It's a lie!" cried Alf Pond heatedly. "It's a damned lie! I don't +believe it." + +"A rather dainty creature, small and well dressed. She was +accompanied by several men, one of them rather stout, very careful +of his clothes, and an inveterate smoker. The others were bigger, +rougher men. They all came in a car, which arrived after the motor +bicycle, which in turn arrived later than the small car." + +The sparring-partners exchanged glances, whilst Alf Pond stared. + +"Subsequently they drove off in a very great hurry. Incidentally +they took Burns with them; but against his will. On the way down the +girl was in the tonneau; but on the return journey she sat beside +the driver. As Burns was in the tonneau, it was no doubt a +precaution." + +"I don't believe a word," interrupted Alf Pond. "He's makin' it all +up." + +Without appearing to notice the remark, Malcolm Sage turned and +walked towards the gate, Mr. Doulton following a step in the rear. + +"Liar!" growled Alf Pond, as he turned towards the house. "Ruddy +liar!" he added, as if finding consolation in the term. "_He'll_ +never find old Charley." + +"Tell me, Sage, were you serious?" asked Mr. Doulton, as they +reached the gate. + +"Entirely." + +"I'm afraid poor Pond thought you were making game of us," he added +apologetically. "Do you mind explaining how you arrived at your +conclusions?" + +"Behind that clump of rhododendrons," began Malcolm Sage, "there is +written a whole history. The marks of boots, or shoes, with very +high heels suggests a woman, the size and daintiness of the footwear +tell the rest. As Burns appeared, she stepped towards him. Her very +short steps indicate both fashionable clothes and smallness of +stature." + +"And the man who was careful about his clothes?" + +"He stood behind a holly-bush with an umbrella----" + +"But how did you know?" + +"He had been leaning upon it, and there was the mark where it had +sunk into the soft turf up to the point where the silk joins the +stick. A man who carries an umbrella on a kidnapping adventure must +be habitually in fear of rain--none but a well-dressed man would +fear rain. + +"Then, as he had a cigar in his hand with the end bitten off, it +shows the habitual smoker. He was only waiting for the end of the +drama before lighting up. His height I get from his stride, and his +size by the fact that, like Humpty-Dumpty, he had a great fall. I'll +tell you the rest later. I'm afraid it's an ugly business." + +"But the girl riding beside the driver?" burst out Mr. Doulton, +bewildered by the facts that Malcolm Sage had deduced from so little. + +"At the edge of a side-road there is invariably a deposit of dust, +and the marks where they all got out and in are clearly visible. The +hurry of departure is shown by the fact that the car started before +one of the men had taken his place, and his footsteps running beside +it before jumping on to the running-board are quite clear. I'll ring +you up later. I cannot stay now." And with that he hurried away. + +"Back along your own tracks, Tims," said he on reaching the car. He +then walked on to the main road. + +With head over right shoulder, Tims carefully backed the car, +Malcolm Sage signalling that he was to turn to the right. + +Instructing Tims to drive slowly, Malcolm Sage took his seat beside +him, keeping his eyes fixed upon the off-side of the road. He +stopped the car at each cross-road, and walked down it some twenty +or thirty yards, his eyes bent downwards as if in search of +something. At the end of half an hour he instructed Tims to drive +back to London at his best speed. + + + + +II + + +That afternoon in his office Malcolm Sage worked without cessation. +Both telephones, incoming and outgoing, were continually in use. +Telegraph girls and messenger boys came and went. + +Gladys Norman had ceased to worry about the shininess of her nose, +and William Johnson was in process of readjusting his ideas as to +lack of the dramatic element at the Malcolm Sage Bureau as compared +with detective fiction and the films. + +About three o'clock a tall, clean-shaven man was shown into Malcolm +Sage's room. He had a hard mouth, keen, alert eyes, and an air +suggestive of the fact that he knew the worst there was to be known +about men and acted accordingly. + +With a nod Malcolm Sage motioned him to a seat. Six months before he +had saved Dick Lindler from the dock by discovering the real +criminal in whose stead Lindler was about to be charged with a +series of frauds. Since then Malcolm Sage had always been sure of +such "inside" information in the bookmaking world as he required. + +"How's the betting now?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"Nine to two on Jefferson offered; and no takers," was the reply. +"There's something up, Mr. Sage; I'll take my dying oath on it," he +said, leaning across the table and dropping his voice. + +"Any big amounts?" enquired Malcolm Sage. + +"No, that's what troubles me. The money's being spread about so. The +funny thing is that a lot of it is being put on by letter. I've had +a dozen myself to-day." + +Malcolm Sage nodded slowly as he filled his pipe, which with great +deliberation he proceeded to light until the whole surface of the +tobacco glowed. Then, as if suddenly realising that Lindler was not +smoking, he pulled open a drawer, drew out a cigar-box, and pushed +it across, watching him closely from beneath his eyebrows as he did +so. + +Lindler opened the box, then looked interrogatingly at Malcolm Sage. + +"Didn't know you smoked the same poison-sticks as the 'Downy One,'" +he said, picking up a long cigar with a red and gold band, and +examining it. + +"Who's he?" + +"Old Nathan Goldschmidt, the stinking Jew." + +"I'm sorry," said Malcolm Sage; "that should not have been there. +Try one of the others." + +Lindler looked across at him curiously. + +"Personally, myself," he said, "I believe he's at the bottom of all +this heavy backing of Jefferson." + +Malcolm Sage continued to smoke as if the matter did not interest +him, whilst Lindler bit off the end of the cigar he had selected and +proceeded to light it. + +"Several of his crowd have been around this morning trying to load +me up," he continued presently, when the cigar was drawing to his +satisfaction. "Must have stayed up all night to be in time," he +added scathingly. + +"Have you seen Goldschmidt himself?" + +"Not since yesterday afternoon." + +"Does he usually carry an umbrella?" + +Lindler laughed. + +"The boys call him 'Gampy Goldschmidt,'" he said. + +"You really think that the Goldschmidt gang is Backing Jefferson?" + +"They've been at it for the last week," was the response. "They +_know_ something, Mr. Sage. Somebody's going to do the dirty, +otherwise they wouldn't be so blasted clever about it?" + +"Clever?" + +"Putting on all they can on the Q.T.," was the response. + +"Find out all you can about Goldschmidt and his friends. Keep in +touch with me here if you learn anything. Incidentally, keep on the +water-wagon until after the fight." + +"Right-o!" said Lindler, rising; "but I wish you'd tell me----" + +"I have told you," said Malcolm Sage, and with that he took the +proffered hand and, a moment later, Dick Lindler passed through the +outer door. As he did so, he almost collided with Thompson, who +had just jumped out of Malcolm Sage's car and was dashing towards +the door. Thompson rushed across the outer-office, through the +glass-panelled door, and passed swiftly into Malcolm Sage's room. + +"It's the car right enough, Chief," he said, making an effort to +control his excitement. "I picked it up outside Jimmy Dilk's. There +were three men in it." + +Malcolm Sage nodded, then, opening a drawer, produced a sealed +packet. + +"If I'm not back here by half-past four," he said, "ring up +Inspector Wensdale, and ask him to come round at once with a couple +of men and wait in the outer office. Give him this packet. There's a +letter inside. If he's not there, get anyone else you know." + +Thompson stared. In spite of long association with Malcolm Sage, +there were still times when he failed to follow his chief's line of +reasoning. + +"If I telephone or write cancelling these instructions, ignore +anything I say. Do you understand?" + +"I understand, Chief," said Thompson. + +Malcolm Sage picked up his hat and stick and left the room. + +Tims, who had been waiting at the outer door, sprang to his seat and, +almost before the door of the car had closed, it jerked forward and +was soon threading its sinuous way towards Coventry Street. + +Five minutes later Malcolm Sage pressed a bell-push on the fifth +floor of a large block of flats known as Coventry Mansions. The door +was opened by a heavily-built, ill-favoured man. In response to +Malcolm Sage's request to see Mr. Goldschmidt, he was told that he +couldn't. + +"Tell him," said Malcolm Sage, fixing his steel-grey eyes upon the +man in a steady gaze, "that Mr. Malcolm Sage wishes to see him about +something that happened last night, and about something more that is +to happen to-morrow night. He'll understand." + +A sudden look of apprehension in the man's eyes seemed to suggest +that he at least understood. He hesitated for a moment, then, with a +gruff "Wait there," shut the door in Malcolm Sage's face. Three +minutes later he opened it again and, inviting him to enter, led the +way along a passage, at the end of which was a door, which the man +threw open. + +Malcolm Sage found himself in a darkened room, from which the light +was excluded by heavy curtains. For a moment he looked about him, +unable to distinguish any object. When his eyes became accustomed to +the gloom, he saw seated in an armchair a man with a handkerchief +held to his face. + +"Mr. Goldschmidt?" he interrogated, as he seated himself in the +centre of the room. + +"Well, what is it?" was the thickly spoken retort. + +"I came to ask your views on the fight to-morrow night, and to +enquire if you think the odds of nine to two on Jefferson are +justified." + +There was an exclamation from the arm-chair. + +"If you've got anything to say," said the thick voice angrily, "get +it off your chest and go--to hell," he added, as an afterthought. +"What do you want?" the voice demanded, as Malcolm Sage remained +silent. + +"I want you to take a little run with me in my car," said Malcolm +Sage evenly. "Fresh air will do your nose good." + +"What the----" the man broke off, apparently choked with passion, +then, recovering himself, added, "Here, cough it up, or else I'll +have you thrown out into the street! What is it?" + +"I want either you, or one of your friends, to come with me to where +Charley Burns has been taken." + +There was a stifled exclamation from the chair, then a howl of agony +as the hand holding the handkerchief dropped. At the same moment +three men burst into the room. Malcolm Sage's back was to the door. +He did not even turn to look at them. + +Somebody switched on the light, and Malcolm Sage saw before him the +puffy face of a man of about sixty, in the centre of which was a +hideous purple splotch that had once been a nose. A moment later the +handkerchief obscured the unsavoury sight. + +"What the hell's all this about?" shouted one of the men, advancing +into the room, the others remaining by the door. + +Slowly Malcolm Sage turned and regarded the three men, whose +appearance proclaimed their pugilistic calling. + +"I was just asking Mr. Goldschmidt to be so good as to accompany me +to where Charley Burns is----" + +He was interrupted by exclamations from all three men. + +"What the hell do you mean?" demanded he who had spoken, a dark, +ill-favoured fellow with a brow like a rainy sky. + +"I will tell you," said Malcolm Sage. "Last night Mr. Goldschmidt, +accompanied by certain friends, went to Burns's training-quarters to +keep an appointment made in the name of a girl friend of Burns. He +came out quite unsuspectingly, was overpowered, and subsequently +taken in Mr. Goldschmidt's car to a place with which I am +unacquainted, so that he shall not appear at the Olympia to-morrow +night." + +He drew his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to fill it. His air +was that of a chess player who knows that he can mate his opponent +in two moves. + +"It's a damned lie!" roared one of the men, whilst Goldschmidt +shrieked something that was unintelligible. + +"You drove out by way of Putney Hill, Esher, and Clandon Cross Roads. +You backed the car to within two hundred yards of 'The Grove,' where +you all got out with the exception of the driver. You then entered +'The Grove,' taking cover behind a large clump of rhododendrons." + +"It's a damned lie," choked Goldschmidt. + +"By the way," continued Malcolm Sage, "your fair friend drove out in +the tonneau; but returned seated beside the driver, and one of you +was nearly left behind and entered the car after it had started." + +The men looked at one another in bewilderment. + +"You, Goldschmidt, carried an umbrella," continued Malcolm Sage, +"and took cover behind the holly bush; but you came out a little too +soon, hence that nose. Burns was playing possum. You were rather +anxious for a smoke too. I am a smoker myself." + +A stream of profanity burst from Goldschmidt's lips. + +"You see I am in a position to prove my points," said Malcolm Sage +calmly. + +"Oh! you are, are you?" sneered the spokesman, as he moved a little +closer to Malcolm Sage, "and I am in the position to prove that +we're four to one." + +"Three to one," corrected Malcolm Sage quietly. "Your friend," +indicating Goldschmidt, with a nod, "is scarcely----" + +He was interrupted by a stifled oath from the armchair. + +"Good old Nigger!" murmured one of the men by the door. + +"Well, and what about it?" demanded Nigger. + +"If Burns is delivered over to me within two hours, unharmed and in +fighting trim, and a cheque for 1,000 pounds is paid to St. +Timothy's Hospital by noon to-morrow, there will be no prosecution, +and I will not divulge your names. If not, during the next +twenty-four hours, London will probably have its first experience of +lynch-law." + +With that Malcolm Sage struck a match and proceeded to light his +pipe. + +"That all?" sneered the man. "Ain't there nothink else you'd like?" + +"I cannot recall anything else at the moment," said Malcolm Sage +imperturbably, as he looked across at the fellow over the top of the +burning match. + +"You dirty nark," burst out the man by the door, who had hitherto +remained silent. "A pretty sort of stool-pigeon you are." + +"Spyin' on us, wasn't you?" demanded Nigger, edging nearer to +Malcolm Sage. + +"It's ten minutes past four," remarked Malcolm Sage coolly, as he +glanced at his wrist-watch. + +"Oh, it is, is it?" was the retort, "and in another hour it'll be +ten minutes past five." + +"I have to be back at my office by half-past four." Malcolm Sage +looked about for some receptacle in which to throw the spent match. + +"You don't say so." Again Nigger edged a little nearer; but Malcolm +Sage appeared not to notice it. + +"Well, I may as well tell you that you don't leave here until eleven +o'clock to-morrow night, see?" + +There were murmurs of approval from the others. + +"Then, perhaps, you will send out and buy me a tooth-brush," was +Malcolm Sage's quiet rejoinder. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI THE GREAT FIGHT AT THE OLYMPIA + + + +I + + +Never had the Olympia seen such a crowd as was gathered to watch the +fight between Charley Burns of England and Joe Jefferson of America, +Never in its career of hybrid ugliness had it witnessed such +excitement. + +For thirty-six hours the wildest rumours had been current. Charley +Burns had broken down, run away, committed suicide, and refused to +fight. He had broken a leg, an arm, a finger, and had torn more +tendons than he possessed. He had sprained ankles, wrung withers, +been overtrained, had contracted every known disease in addition to +manifesting a yellow streak. + +The atmosphere was electrical. The spectators whispered among +themselves, exchanging views and rumours. The most fantastical +stories were related, credited, and debated with gravity and concern. + +If some ill-advised optimist ventured to question a particularly +lugubrious statement, he was challenged to explain the betting, +which had crept up to six to one on Jefferson offered, with no +takers. + +The arrival of the Prince of Wales gave a welcome vent for pent-up +excitement. Accustomed as he was to enthusiastic acclamation, the +Prince seemed a little embarrassed by the warmth and intensity of +his greeting. + +The preliminary bouts ran their course, of interest only to those +immediately concerned, who were more truly alone in the midst of +that vast concourse than some anchorite in the desert of Sahara. + +The heat was unbearable, the atmosphere suffocating. Men smoked +their cigars and cigarettes jerkily, now indulging in a series of +staccatoed puffs, now ignoring them until they went out. + +Slowly the time crept on as by the bedside of death. If those +ridiculously bobbing figures in the ring would only cease their +caperings! + +"Break! Break!" The voice of the referee suddenly split through a +"pocket" of silence. Everyone seemed startled, then the curtain of +sound once more descended and wrapped the assembly in its +impenetrable folds. The gong sounded the beginning and the end of +each round, and so it went on. + +Mr. Papwith sat in the front row near the Prince. Smiling, smiling, +for ever smiling. He was a dapper little man, with a fiery, +clean-shaven face, and a fringe of grizzled hair above his ears that +gave the lie to the auburn silkiness with which his head was crowned. +Next to him was Mr. Doulton, who chatted and smiled, smiled and +chatted; but his eyes moved restlessly over the basin of faces, as +if in search of an answer to some unuttered question. + +At length the preliminary bouts were ended. As the combatants had +arrived unheralded, so they departed unsung. Although no one +appeared to be watching, a sudden hush fell over the assembly. The +dramatic moment had arrived. A few minutes would see the rumours +confirmed or disproved. Men, seasoned spectators of a hundred fights, +found the tension almost unbearable. + +The M.C. climbed through the ropes and looked fussily about him. He +appealed to the spectators for silence during the actual rounds and +for the discontinuance of smoking. A black cardboard box, sealed as +if it contained duelling-pistols instead of gloves, was thrust into +the ring. Men took a last fond draw at their cigars and cigarettes +before mechanically extinguishing them. + +All eyes were directed towards the spot where the combatants would +appear. + +The referee turned expectantly in the same direction. A group of men +in flannels and sweaters was seen moving towards the ring. Among +them was a sleek, dark-haired man in a long dressing-gown of bottle +green. It was Joe Jefferson. + +Suddenly a great roar burst out, echoing and reechoing continuously +as the group approached the ring and Jefferson climbed through the +ropes. + +Then came another hush. A second group of men was observed +approaching the ring. There was a shout as those nearest recognised +Alf Pond among them. It developed into a roar, then died away as if +strangled, giving place to a hum of suppressed inquiry. Everyone was +either asking, or looking, the same question. + +"Where is Burns?" + +Alf Pond and his associates moved to the ringside as if bound for a +funeral. + +Their gloom seemed suddenly to pervade the whole vast concourse. Men +talked to one another mechanically, their eyes fixed upon the group. + +There was a strange hush. The men reached the ringside and stood +looking at one another. The audience looked at them. What had +happened? + +None seemed to notice three men moving down the opposite gangway +towards the ring. The man in the centre was muffled in a heavy +overcoat that reached to his heels, a soft felt hat was pulled down +over his eyes. One or two spectators in their immediate +neighbourhood gave them a hasty, curious glance. + +Suddenly Alf Pond gave a wild whoop and, breaking away from his +fellows, dashed towards the three strangers. In a moment the +overcoat and muffler were thrown aside and the hat knocked off, +revealing the fair-haired and smiling Charley Burns. + +Gripping Burns's hand, Alf Pond broke down. Tears streamed down his +battle-seared features, and he sobbed with the choking agony of a +strong man. + +Then suddenly everything became enveloped in a dense volume of sound. +Men and women stood on their chairs and waved frantically, madly, +anything they could clutch hold of to wave. The whole Olympia +appeared to have gone mad. Noble peers, grave judges, sedate +generals and austere philosophers acted as if suddenly bereft of the +restaining influences of civilisation and decorum. + +Hugged and fondled by his seconds, Burns reached the ring and +climbed into it. The black cardboard box was opened, the men's hands +bandaged, the gloves donned. Still the pandemonium raged, now dying +down, now bursting out again with increased volume. + +Jefferson and Burns shook hands. The referee stood in the middle of +the ring and, with arms extended aloft, appeared to be imploring the +blessing of heaven. The crowd, however, understood, and the great +uproar died down to a hum of sound. + +Then for the first time it was noticed that, in place of the +habitual smile that had made Burns the idol he was, there was a grim +set about his jaw that caused those nearest to the ring to wonder +and to speculate. + +Charley Burns's "battle-smile" had become almost a tradition. + +"If he'd only fight more and box less," Alf Pond would say +complainingly, "he'd beat the whole blinkin' world with one hand." + +Suddenly a hush fell upon the assembly, a hush as pronounced as had +been the previous pandemonium. The referee took a final look round. +Behind Burns, Alf Pond could be seen sponging his face over a small +bucket. He was once more himself. There were things to be done. + +Almost before anyone realised it the gong sounded; the fight had +begun. + +"God!" + +The exclamation broke involuntarily from Alf Pond, as he dropped the +sponge and gazed before him with wide-staring eyes. + +"He's fighting," he cried, almost dancing with excitement. "Did ever +you see the like, Sandy?" But Sandy's eyes were glued upon the ring. +His hands and feet moved convulsively--he was a fighter himself. + +Discarding his traditional opening of boxing with swift defensive +watchfulness, Charley Burns had darted at his man. Before anyone +knew what was happening his left crashed between Jefferson's eyes, a +blow that caused him to reel back almost to the ropes. + +Before he could recover, a right hook had sent him staggering +against the ropes themselves. For a second it looked as if he would +collapse over them. Pulling himself together, however, he strove to +clinch; but Burns was too quick for him. Stepping back swiftly, he +feinted with his left, and Jefferson, expecting a repetition of the +first blow, raised his guard. A white right arm shot out to the mark, +and Jefferson went down with a crash. + +The timekeeper's voice began to drone the monotonous count; at eight +Jefferson gathered himself together; at nine he was on his feet. + +Once more Burns was upon him, and Jefferson saved himself by +clinching. It was clear that he was badly shaken. + +Three times during the first round Burns floored his man. The +onlookers were mad with excitement. + +Back in his own corner, Charley Burns was sitting, a hard set look +in his eyes, his jaw square and firm. + +Alf Pond fussed about him like a hen over a chick. + +"Shut up, Alf! I know what I'm doing," said Burns sharply. + +"He knows what he's doing," repeated Alf Pond ecstatically. "Hear +that, Sandy? He knows what he's doing, and so does Jeff, I'll lay a +pony to a pink pill," he added. + +Once more the gong sounded; once more Burns sprang up and darted at +his man. Jefferson tried first to dodge and then to clinch; but +without avail. He was unnerved. His strategy and tactics had been +planned in view of Burns's usual methods; but here was an entirely +different man to deal with--a great fighter. + +Twice more Jefferson went down, taking a count of nine on each +occasion. He seemed to share with the spectators the knowledge that +there would be no third round. + +On rising the second time he seemed determined to change his tactics. +He rushed forward, fighting gamely, apparently in the hope of +getting a lucky knock-out blow. Without giving an inch, Burns threw +off the blows and, feinting with his left, crashed his right full on +the point of his opponent's jaw. + +Jefferson's hands fell, and for a second he stood gazing stupidly +before him; then his knees sagged and, with a deliberation that +seemed almost intolerable, he crashed forward on his face, one arm +outstretched as if in protest. + +Again the timekeeper's voice was heard monotonously counting. Burns +turned to his corner without waiting for the conclusion of the count. +He knew the strength behind that blow. + + + + +II + + +Later that night, just as Big Ben was taking breath preparatory to +his supreme effort, Malcolm Sage was seated in his big arm-chair +smoking a final pipe before bed, and turning over in his mind the +happenings of the day and the probable events of the morrow. + +His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a hammering at the +outer door of his chambers, followed by the sound of loud and +hilarious voices as Rogers answered the summons. + +A moment later the door of the sitting-room burst open, and there +flowed into the room Charley Burns and his entourage, all obviously +in the best of spirits. In the background stood Rogers, with +expressionless face, looking towards his master. + +Malcolm Sage rose and shook hands with Burns, Mr. Doulton and Mr. +Papwith, Alf Pond and his assistants. + +"Sorry, Mr. Sage," cried Burns, with a laugh; "but the boys wouldn't +wait, although I told them calling time was four till six," and he +laughed again, the laugh of a man who has not a care in the world. +He also gripped Malcolm Sage's hand with a heartiness that made him +wince. The others in turn shook hands in a way that caused Malcolm +Sage to wonder why America had not long since ceased to be a +Republic. + +The men dropped into chairs in various parts of the room, and Rogers, +who had disappeared at a signal from Malcolm Sage, now returned with +a tray of glasses, syphons, and decanters. Soon the whole company +was drinking the health of Malcolm Sage with an earnestness which +convinced him that on the morrow there would be trouble with Colonel +Sappinger, who lived above and cherished Carlyle's hatred of sound. + +"And now, Mr. Sage," said Alf Pond, "we want to know how you found +Charley. He won't tell us anythink. Wonderful, I call it," he added, +and there was a murmur of assent from the others, as they proceeded +to light the cigars that Rogers handed round. + +"It was not very difficult," said Malcolm Sage, stuffing tobacco +into his pipe from a terra-cotta jar beside him. As he applied a +light to the bowl the others exchanged glances. + +"From the first," he continued, "it was obvious that some message, +or letter, had been conveyed to our friend Burns." He gazed across +at the champion, who looked uncomfortable. + +"As he had not mentioned the fact to any of his friends," continued +Malcolm Sage, a little slyly, "it seemed obvious to assume that +there was a lady in the case." + +Alf Pond looked reproachfully at Burns, who reddened beneath the +united gaze of seven pairs of eyes. + +"That the appointment had been for the evening," proceeded Malcolm +Sage, "was obvious from the fact that Burns disappeared in the blue +suit he always changed into after the day's work." + +Alf Pond looked across at Mr. Doulton, nodding his approval of the +reasoning. + +"It was Kitty, or I thought it was," burst out Burns. "She said +something terrible had happened and that she must see me," he added. + +Kitty Graham was shortly to become Mrs. Charley Burns, but during +the period of training she had been rigorously excluded from all +intercourse with her fiance by order of the autocratic Alf Pond. + +"The meeting was arranged for the further side of the large clump of +rhododendrons, which acted as a screen," continued Malcolm Sage. +"When Burns arrived there, he saw a girl standing a little distance +away. Before he could reach her, however, he was seized and a +chloroformed pad held over his mouth. The suddenness of the attack +dazed him; he did not struggle, but held his breath; he----" + +"How the blazes did you know that, Mr. Sage?" burst out Burns. + +"You are always a quick-thinker in the ring," said Malcolm Sage, +"and you were a quick-thinker then. You smelt chloroform, held your +breath and thought. It was a sort of instinctive ring-craft." + +"But you----" began Burns. + +"There were no marks of a struggle where you were seized. You +probably realised that your only chance lay in letting the enemy +think you were losing consciousness?" + +Burns nodded. + +"Seeing that there was no sign of trouble," continued Malcolm Sage, +"the principal in this little affair stepped out from where he had +been taking cover just at the moment when Burns broke loose and let +out. Movement has always a primary attraction for the eye, and Burns +got this man full on the nose and ruined it. He also sent him clean +into the privet-hedge, where he collapsed." + +"Who was it?" demanded Alf Pond fiercely. + +"There were, however, too many of them for Burns," continued Malcolm +Sage, ignoring the question. "They had planned the attack very +carefully, each clinging to a limb. Soon they had him unconscious +and bound in the car. Then they turned their attention to their +leader." + +"Yes; but how did you find Burns?" asked Mr. Doulton eagerly. + +"I didn't," said Malcolm Sage. "They showed me where he was." + +"But----" began Mr. Papwith, whose shiny cleanshaven face, normally +suggestive of a Turner sunset, now looked like a conflagration. + +"After half an hour's fruitless effort to track the car down +side-roads, I returned to London as fast as my man could take me," +proceeded Malcolm Sage, "and I immediately set enquiries on foot as +to the betting on the Stock Exchange, at Tattersall's, the National +Sporting Club, and other places. By three o'clock that afternoon I +knew pretty well who it was that had been laying heavily against +Burns. That simplified matters." + +Alf Pond and Burns exchanged admiring glances. + +"As you know, for more than a week previously the betting had made +it clear that heavy sums were being laid on Jefferson. In the course +of ten days it had veered round from 5 to 4 on Burns to 9 to 2 +against. As there were no rumours detrimental to his condition or +state of health, this could only mean that a lot of money was being +put on Jefferson. I found out the names of the principal layers and +the amounts. I discovered that all were extremely active with the +exception of one. That I decided was the man with the umbrella." + +"Who's he?" demanded Sandy, whose mouth had not ceased to gape since +Malcolm Sage began his story. + +"The man Burns knocked out. He had been leaning rather heavily on +the handle whilst taking cover behind a holly-bush, and the metal +cap at base of the silk was clearly marked on the ground. He was +also holding an unlit cigar in his hand, which he left in the hedge. +By great good chance this was recognised by someone I happen to know +as a brand smoked by a certain backer of Jefferson." + +"Well, I'm damned!" broke in Alf Pond, with intense earnestness. + +"So you see, I had quite a lot to help me. I was searching for a +well-dressed man----" + +"But how did you know he was well-dressed?" queried Mr. Doulton. + +"His footprints showed that he wore boots of a fashionable model," +explained Malcolm Sage. "He also carried an umbrella, even on an +occasion such as this. + +"I had to look for a well-dressed man who always carried an umbrella, +and who smoked large and expensive cigars and, most important of all, +whose nose had been smashed out of all recognition." + +"But how could you tell I got him on the nose?" demanded Burns, +leaning forward eagerly. + +"There was quite a pool of blood beneath the hedge," explained +Malcolm Sage. "He was probably there for some minutes while his +friends were making sure of you, Burns. Blood would not have flowed +so generously as a result of a blow from the fist except from the +nose." + +"You're a knock-out, that's what you are, Mr. Sage," said Alf Pond, +with admiring conviction. "_I'd_ never have thought of it all," he +added, with the air of one desiring to be absolutely fair. + +"Finally," continued Malcolm Sage, "there was the car. It was a +large car, a defect in one of the tyres enabled me to determine +that by a steel rule. It was obviously heavily laden and the near +back-wheel was out of track. This fact, of course, was of no help on +the high-road, where other cars would blot out the track; but if I +could show that someone who had been heavily backing Jefferson had +a nose badly damaged, and a car with a near back-wheel out of track +in just the same way that this particular wheel was out of track, +and that its tyres were the same as those of the car that drew up +outside Burns's training-quarters, then I should have a wealth of +circumstantial evidence that it would be almost impossible to +confute. + +"From a friend at Scotland Yard I obtained the number of the car +belonging to the man whom this evidence involved. + +"As Stainton is off the Portsmouth Road, I telephoned to the +Automobile Association patrols at Putney Hill, Esher, and Clandon +Cross Roads. I was told that on the previous evening this +particular car was seen going in the direction of Guildford. These +patrols take the numbers of all cars that pass. As it had not passed +Liss, where the next patrol is stationed, it was another link in the +chain." + +"Well, I'm blowed!" The exclamation broke involuntarily from Kid. + +"As the patrols go off duty at dusk, I could get no further help +from them," continued Malcolm Sage. "I sent a man to watch +Jefferson's training-quarters, although I was fairly certain that he +and his party were in no way involved." + +Malcolm Sage went on to narrate his call upon Nathan Goldschmidt, +carefully omitting any mention of the name or address. His hearers +listened with breathless interest. + +"I concluded that they had taken their prisoner to some lonely, +empty house," he explained, "but there was not time to search all +the empty houses in the home counties, so the man with the damaged +nose had to come with me in my car, and his friends followed in +his." + +"But how did you manage it?" gasped Mr. Papwith. + +"At first they showed fight," said Malcolm Sage, "and threatened to +keep me prisoner until after the fight." + +"Gee!" exclaimed Kid. + +"I anticipated some such move, and had instructed my people that +unless I were back by half-past four, they were to deliver certain +packets to the editors of well-known London papers. In these packets +was told the story as far as I had been able to trace it. This I +informed them." + +"What did they say to that?" asked Mr. Doulton. + +"They insisted that I telephone countermanding my orders; but as I +explained that I had told my man Thompson he was to disregard any +telephone message, or written instructions, he might receive from me, +they realised that the game was up. I also informed them that +Inspector Wensdale and two of his men were waiting at my office in +anticipation of a possible hold-up." + +"Well, I'm blessed," exclaimed Alf Pond. "If you ain't it." + +"I pointed out," continued Malcolm Sage, "that whereas by producing +Burns they would have a fight for their money, if the truth became +known not only would their bets most likely be forfeited, but they +would probably have to go to law to recover their stake-money. I +further pledged Mr. Doulton, Mr. Papwith, and Burns not to take any +legal action. I rather suspect that in this I was technically +conspiring to defeat the ends of justice." + +"But weren't you afraid they'd do a double cross?" asked Burns. + +"They heard me instruct one of my assistants that unless I were back +by nine o'clock that evening, the notes I had written and addressed +were to be delivered. _Incidentally the inspector was present, +unofficially of course._" + +"You oughter been in the ring with a head like that," said Alf Pond +sorrowfully. + +"We found Burns fairly comfortable in the wine-cellar of an empty +house near Ripley. They had left him food and water and beer. In all +probability on awakening to-morrow morning, had we not found him, he +would have discovered the door unlocked and himself no longer a +prisoner." Malcolm Sage paused with the air of one who has told his +story. + +"But why did you keep Papwith and me at Stainton until late this +afternoon?" enquired Mr. Doulton. + +"In the first instance, to be in charge and to see that Burns's +disappearance was kept secret. It was obvious that every endeavour +would be made to put a lot of money on Jefferson before the fact +became known. This would lead to rumour, and later to enquiry. +Subsequently I decided that you were both better out of London, as +you would have been interviewed and bound to give something away, in +spite of the utmost caution." + +"And now, Mr. Sage," said Mr. Doulton, "who are the scroundrels?" + +"I have promised not to give their names," was the quiet reply. + +"Not give their names?" cried several of his hearers in unison. + +Malcolm Sage then proceeded to explain that unless the gang had seen +a loop-hole of escape they would not have thrown up the sponge. Had +exposure been inevitable in any case, they would have brazened it +out, knowing that, whatever happened to themselves, Burns could not +appear at the Olympia. The knowledge that their identity would not +be divulged tempted them to risk the loss of their money. "Apart from +this," he added, "the details I was able to give seemed to convince +them that they had either been watched or given away." + +"You must remember that they have lost enormous sums of money," +Malcolm Sage went on, "and there will be another 1,000 pounds for St. +Timothy's Hospital. It was further understood that, if I could +discover anyone of them had inspired a covering bet, I was released +from my promise. This is why the odds got to six to one. +Incidentally they ensured the defeat of their man. When Burns +entered the ring tonight, it was to fight, not to box." + +"That's true," said Alf Pond, nodding his head and reaching for +another cigar. "He never fought like it before in all his puff." + +"And where were you last night?" enquired Mr. Papwith of Burns. + +"In my bed," said Malcolm Sage, "and my friend Inspector Wensdale of +Scotland Yard and I slept here. Burns has never been out of +Wensdale's sight until we handed him over this evening." + +"I've been having police protection," laughed Burns. + +"Still, you didn't oughter have gone two days without doing +anythink," said Alf Pond. + +"Oh! I had a bit of sparring with Mr. Sage," said Burns, "in spite +of the glasses. If you want to see some pretty foot-work, Alf, you +get him to put the gloves on." + +"I knew it," cried Alf Pond, with conviction; then, turning to the +others, "Didn't I say he oughter been in the ring?" + +And Malcolm Sage found relief from the admiring eyes of his guests +in gazing down at the well-bitten mouthpiece of his briar. + +"But why did you let me think that Jefferson and his crowd were in +it?" enquired Burns, with corrugated brow. + +"Well," said Malcolm Sage slowly, "as I had put twenty-five pounds +on you to steady Pond's nerves, I didn't want to lose it." + +And Alf Pond winked gleefully across at Mr. Doulton. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII LADY DENE CALLS ON MALCOLM SAGE + + +"Lady Dene wishes to see you, Miss." + +"Sure the Archbishop of Canterbury isn't with her, Johnnie dear?" +asked Gladys Norman sweetly, without looking up from the cleaning +of her typewriter. In her own mind she was satisfied that this was +a little joke inspired by Thompson. + +"No, Miss, she's alone," replied the literal William Johnson. + +"Show her Ladyship in," she said, still playing for safety. "Da---- +sh!" she muttered as, having inadvertently touched the release, the +carriage slid to the left, pinching her finger in its course. + +William Johnson departed, his head half turned over his right +shoulder in admiration of one who could hear with such unconcern +that a real lady had called to see her. + +As her door opened for a second time, Gladys Norman assiduously kept +her eyes fixed upon her machine. + +"No, Johnnie," she remarked, still without looking up. "It's no good. +Lady Denes don't call upon typists at 9.30 a.m., so buzz off, little +beanlet. I'm----" + +"But this Lady Dene does." + +Gladys Norman jumped to her feet, knocking over the benzine bottle +and dropping her brush into the vitals of the machine. + +Before her stood a fair-haired girl, her violet eyes brimming with +mischievous laughter, whilst in her arms she carried a mass of red +roses. + +"I'm so sorry," faltered Gladys Norman, biting her lower lip, and +conscious of her heightened colour and the violet-stained gloves +that had once been white. "I thought Johnnie was playing a joke." + +Lady Dene nodded brightly, whilst Gladys Norman stooped to pick up +the benzine bottle, then with a motion of her head indicated to +William Johnson that his presence was no longer required. +Reluctantly the lad turned, and a moment later the door closed +slowly behind him. + +"I want you to help me," said Lady Dene, dropping the roses on to +the leaf of Gladys Norman's typing-table. "These are for Mr. Sage." + +"For the Chief?" cried Gladys Norman in astonishment. Then she +laughed. The idea of a riot of red roses in Malcolm Sage's room +struck her as funny. + +"You see," said Lady Dene, "this is the birthday of the Malcolm Sage +Bureau, and I'm going to decorate his room." + +"I don't----" began Gladys Norman hesitatingly, when Lady Dene +interrupted her. + +"It's all right," she cried, "I'll take all the responsibility." + +"But we've got no vases," objected Gladys Norman. + +"My chauffeur has some in the car, and there are heaps more roses," +she added. + +"More?" cried Gladys Norman aghast. + +"Heaps," repeated Lady Dene, dimpling with laughter at the +consternation on Gladys Norman's face. "Ah! here they are," as the +door opened and a mass of white roses appeared, with a florid face +peering over the top. + +"Put them down there, Smithson," said Lady Dene, indicating a spot +in front of Gladys Norman's table. "Now fetch the vases and the rest +of the roses." + +"The rest!" exclaimed Gladys Norman. + +Lady Dene laughed. She was thoroughly enjoying the girl's +bewilderment. + +"He's not come yet?" she interrogated. + +The girl shook her head. + +"He won't be here for half-an-hour yet," she said. "He had to go +down into the city." + +"That will just give us time," cried Lady Dene, stooping and picking +up an armful of the white roses. "You bring the red ones," she cried +over her shoulder, as she passed through Malcolm Sage's door, just +as Smithson entered with several purple vases. + +Picking up the red roses, Gladys Norman followed the others into +Malcolm Sage's room. Her feelings were those of someone constrained +to commit sacrilege against her will. + +"Now get some water, Smithson." + +"Water, my Lady?" repeated Smithson, looking about him vaguely, as +Moses might have done in the wilderness. + +"Yes; ask the lad. Be quick," cried Lady Dene, with deft fingers +beginning to arrange the roses in the vases. "Oh! please help me," +she cried, turning to Gladys Norman, who had stood watching her as +if fascinated. + +"But----" she began, when Lady Dene interrupted her. + +"Quick!" cried Lady Dene excitedly, "or he'll be here before we've +finished." + +Then, convinced that it was the work of Kismet, or the devil, Gladys +Norman threw herself into the task of arranging the flowers. + +When Thompson arrived some ten minutes later, he stood at the door +of Malcolm Sage's room "listening with his mouth," as Gladys Norman +had expressed it. When he had regained the power of speech, he +uttered two words. + +"Jumping Je-hosh-o-phat!"; but into them he precipitated all the +emotion of his being. + +"Go away, Tommy, we're busy," cried Gladys Norman over her shoulder. +"Do you hear; go away," she repeated, stamping her foot angrily as +he made no movement to obey, and Thompson slid away and closed the +door, convinced that in the course of the next half-hour there would +be the very deuce to pay. + +He knew the Chief better than Gladys, he told himself, and if there +were one thing calculated to bring out all the sternness in his +nature it was flippancy, and what could be more flippant than +decorating the room of a great detective with huge bowls and vases +of red and white roses. + +Regardless of Thompson's forebodings, Lady Dene smiled to herself as +she put the finishing touches to the last vase, whilst Gladys Norman +gathered up the litter of leaves and stalks that lay on the floor, +throwing them into the fireplace. She then removed the last spots of +water from Malcolm Sage's table. + +Lady Dene took from her bag a small leather-case, which she opened +and placed in the centre of the table opposite Malcolm Sage's chair. +It was a platinum ring of antique workmanship, with a carbuchon of +lapis lazuli. + +"Oh, how lovely!" cried Gladys Norman, as she gazed at the ring's +exquisite workmanship. + +Presently, the two girls stepped back to gaze at their handiwork. In +a few minutes they had transformed an austere, business-man's room +into what looked like a miniature rose-show. From every point red +and white roses seemed to nod their fragrant heads. + +"I----" began Gladys Norman, then she stopped suddenly, arrested by +a slight sound behind her. She span round on her heel. Malcolm Sage +stood in the doorway, with Thompson and William Johnson a few feet +behind him. + +Slowly and deliberately he looked round the room; then his eyes +rested on Lady Dene. + +"How do you do, Lady Dene," he said quietly, extending his hand. + +For a moment she was conscious of an unaccustomed sensation of fear. + +"You're not cross?" she interrogated, looking up at him quizzically, +her head a little on one side. "You see, it's the Bureau's birthday, +and----" She stopped suddenly. + +Malcolm Sage had dropped her hand and walked over to his table. +Picking up the ring he examined it intently, then turned to Lady +Dene, interrogation in his eyes. + +"It's from my husband and me," she said simply. "You have such +lovely hands, and--and we should like you to wear it." + +Without a word he removed the ring from the case and put it on the +third finger of his right hand, which he then extended to Lady Dene, +who took it with a little laugh of happiness. + +"You're not really cross," she said, looking up at him a little +anxiously. + +"To me they stand for so much, Lady Dene," he said gravely, "that I +am not even speculating as to their probable effect upon the faith +of my clients." + +And Malcolm Sage smiled. + +It was that smile Gladys Norman saw as she closed the door behind +her, and which Thompson resolutely refused to believe. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE*** + + +******* This file should be named 28084.txt or 28084.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/0/8/28084 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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