Malcolm Sage, Detective. Jenkins Herbert George
inspector. I locked the door; here is the key," he said, producing it from his jacket pocket. "I told him to allow no oneinto the room."
"Why were you there?" Malcolm Sage suddenly looked up, flashing thatkeen, steely look through his gold-rimmed spectacles that many menhad found so disconcerting. "Ordinary visit?" he queried.
"No." Sir James paused, apparently deliberating something in hisown mind. He was well acquainted with Malcolm Sage's habit of askingapparently irrelevant questions.
"There's been a little difficulty between Challoner and his nephew,"he said slowly. "Some days back the boy announced his determinationof marrying a girl he had met in London, a typist or secretary.Challoner was greatly upset, and threatened to cut him out of hiswill if he persisted. There was a scene, several scenes in fact, andeventually 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," wasthe reply.
"You advised?" When keenly interested, Malcolm Sage's questions werelike pistol-shots.
"That Challoner should wait and see the girl."
"Did he?"
Malcolm Sage was intent upon outlining his hand with the point ofthe 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 heroff. Yesterday afternoon Dane brought her over. Challoner saw heralone. She didn't stay more than a quarter of an hour. Then she andDane left the house together, he to see her to the station. An hourlater he returned. I was in the hall at the time. He was in a veryexcited state. He pushed past me, burst into the library, bangingthe door behind him.
"That evening at dinner Challoner told me there had been a veryunpleasant scene. He had warned the boy that unless he apologisedto-day he would telephone to London for his lawyer, and make a freshwill entirely disinheriting him. Soon after the interview Dane wentout of the house, and apparently did not return until late – as amatter of fact, after I had gone to bed. I was feeling tired andsaid '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 remarkedregretfully.
Sir James looked across at his late chief-of-staff keenly. Hedetected something of reproach in his tone.
"Did you happen to notice if the electric light was on when youentered 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 intoinstant vitality.
"Miss Norman," said Sage as she entered, "can you lend me the smallmirror I have seen you use occasionally?"
"Yes, Mr. Sage," and she disappeared, returning a moment later withthe mirror from her handbag. She was accustomed to Malcolm Sage'sstrange 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 havesacrificed 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 toresume her work.
"He won't mind if it shines," said the youth seriously; and MissNorman 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 bythe butler, a fair-haired clean-shaven man of about forty-five, withgrave, impassive face, and eyes that gave the impression of allowinglittle to escape them.
As he descended the flight of stone-steps to open the door of thecar, a young man appeared behind him. A moment later Sir James wasintroducing him to Malcolm Sage as "Mr. Richard Dane."
Dark, with smoothly-brushed hair and a toothbrush moustache, hemight easily have been passed over in a crowd without a secondglance. He was obviously and acutely nervous. His fingers movedjerkily, and there were twitchings at the corners of his mouth thathe seemed unable to control. It was not a good-tempered mouth. Heappeared unconscious of the presence of Malcolm Sage. His eyes werefixed upon the second car, which had just drawn up, and from whichThompson 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, whowas 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 Jamesthrough the house out on to the lawn.
As they entered the library by the French-windows, a tall, sandy manrose from the armchair in which he was seated. He was InspectorGorton of the Sussex County Constabulary. Malcolm Sage nodded alittle absently. His eyes were keenly taking in every detail of thefigure sprawling across the writing-table. The head rested on theleft cheek, and there was an ugly wound in the right temple fromwhich blood had dripped and congealed upon the table. In the righthand was clutched a small, automatic pistol. The arm was slightlycurved, the weapon pointing to the left.
Having concluded his examination of the wound, Malcolm Sage drew asilk-handkerchief from his pocket, shook out its folds and spread itcarefully over the blood-stained head of Mr. Challoner.
Sir James looked across at him, appreciation in his eyes. It was oneof those little human touches, of which he had discovered so many inMalcolm Sage, and the heads of government departments in Whitehallso 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 beneaththe table. He then walked round the room and examined everythingwith minute attention, particularly the key of the door, which SirJames had replaced in its position on the inside. The keyhole onboth 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 waslocked. He then examined the fastenings of the French-windows.
Finally he returned to the table, where, dropping on one knee on theleft-hand side of the body, he drew a penknife from his pocket, andproceeded with great care and deliberation to slit up the outer seamof the trousers so that the pocket lay exposed.
This in turn he cut open, taking care not to disturb the bunch ofkeys, which, attached to a chain, lay on the thigh, a little to theleft.
The others watched him with wide-eyed interest, the inspectorbreathing 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 behindand above. Also an exposure showing the position of the legs, andanother of the keys."
Dawkins inclined his head. He was a grey, bald-headed little man whohad only one thought in life, his profession. He seldom spoke, andwhen he did his lips seemed scarcely to part, the words slipping outas best they could.
Happy in the knowledge that his beloved camera was once more to beone of the principal witnesses in the detection of a crime, Dawkinsset himself to his task.
"When Dawkins has finished," said Malcolm Sage, turning to theinspector, who had been watching the proceedings with ill-disguisedimpatience,