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+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.
+
+
+
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