Malcolm Sage, Detective

A quarter of an hour later he held open the door of Malcolm Sage'sprivate room to admit Inspector Carfon, a tall man, with smallfeatures and a large forehead, above which the fair hair had beensadly thinned by the persistent wearing of a helmet in the earlydays of his career.

"I got your message, Mr. Sage," he began, as he flopped into a chairon the opposite side of Malcolm Sage's table. "This McMurray case isa 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 bitold-fashioned," and he laughed the laugh of a man who can afford tobe tolerant.

"I've seen all there is in the papers," said Malcolm Sage. "Arethere any additional particulars?"

"There's one thing we haven't told the papers, and it wasn'temphasised at the inquest." The inspector leaned forwardimpressively.

Malcolm Sage remained immobile, his eyes on his finger-nails.

"The doctor," continued the inspector, "says that the professor hadbeen dead for about forty-eight hours, whereas we know he'd eatena dinner about twenty-six hours before he was found."

Malcolm Sage looked up slowly. In his eyes there was an alert lookthat told of keen interest.

"You challenged him?" he queried.

"Ra-ther," was the response, "but he got quite ratty. Said he'dstake his professional reputation and all that sort of thing."

Malcolm Sage meditatively inclined his head several times insuccession; his hand felt mechanically for his fountain-pen.

"Then there was another thing that struck me as odd," continuedInspector Carfon, intently examining the end of his cigar. "Theprofessor had evidently been destroying a lot of old correspondence.The paper-basket was full of torn-up letters and envelopes, and thegrate was choc-a-bloc with charred paper. That also we kept toourselves."

"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 beforehim, "that it says there was a remarkable change in the professor'sappearance. 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 ofexplanation.

"He saw nothing extraordinary in the circumstance?"

"No," was the response. "He seemed to think he was the only one whohad ever seen a dead man before. I wouldn't mind betting I've seenas 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 doorwas being broken open?"

"There were no signs of a struggle?" enquired Malcolm Sage, drawinga 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 befound; but the butler is not certain that he had it on him."

For some time there was silence. Malcolm Sage appeared to bepondering over the additional facts he had just heard.

"What do you want me to do, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector atlength.

"I was wondering whether you would run down with me this afternoonto Gorling."

"I'd be delighted," was the hearty response. "Somehow or other Ifeel 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 beforehim.

"Thank you, Carfon. Be here at half-past two."

"The funeral's to-day, by the way," said the inspector as he roseand, with a genial "good morning," left the room.

For the next hour Malcolm Sage was engaged in reading the newspaperaccounts of the McMurray Mystery, which he had already caused to bepasted up in the current press-cutting book; he gathered little morefrom them, however, than he already knew.

That afternoon, accompanied by Inspector Carfon, Malcolm Sagemotored down to "The Hollows," which lies at the easternmost end ofthe village of Gorling.

The inspector stopped the car just as it entered the drive. The twomen alighted and, turning sharply to the right, walked across thelawn towards an ugly red-brick building, screened from the house bya belt of trees. Malcolm Sage had expressed a wish to see thelaboratory first.

It was a strange-looking structure, some fifty feet long by abouttwenty feet wide, with a door on the further side. In the red-brickwall nearer the house there was nothing to break the monotony exceptthe small wicket through which the professor's meals were passed.

Malcolm Sage twice walked deliberately round the building. In themeantime the inspector had removed the seal from the padlock andopened 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 tophotograph the wound."

"Put yourself in the position of the body," said Malcolm Sage.

The inspector walked to the centre of the room, near ahighly-polished table, dropped on to the floor and, after a moment'spause, turned and lay on his left side, with right arm outstretched.

From just inside the door Malcolm Sage looked about him. At the leftextremity a second door gave access to another apartment, which theprofessor used as a bedroom.

A little to the right of the door, on the opposite side, stood thefireplace. This was full of ashes, apparently the charred remains ofa quantity of paper that had been burnt. On the hearth were severalpartially-charred envelopes, and the paper-basket contained a numberof torn-up letters.

"That will do, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage, as he walked over to thefireplace 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 theinspector who scrambled to his feet, and stood looking down withkeen professional interest.

"Piece of a test tube," remarked Malcolm Sage, as he placed thesmall piece of glass upon the table.

"Moses' aunt!" gasped the inspector. "I missed that, though I saw alot of bits of glass. I thought it was an electric bulb."

"Somebody had ground it to powder with his heel, all except thispiece. Looks as if there might have been more than one," he addedmore 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 anyonedisturbed it?" He indicated the grate.

"No one," was the reply.

Malcolm Sage rose to his feet. For some minutes he stood lookingdown at the fireplace, stroking the back of his head, deep inthought.

Presently he picked up the poker, a massive steel affair, andproceeded to examine the fire-end with great minuteness.

"It was done with the other end," said the inspector. "He must havewiped it afterwards. There was no sign of blood or hair."

Malcolm Sage ignored the remark, and continued to regard thebusiness-end of the poker. Walking over to the door, he examined thefastenings. Having taken a general survey, he next proceeded to adetailed scrutiny of everything the place contained. From thefireplace he picked up what looked like a cinder and placed it in asmall box, which he put in his pocket.

The polished surface of the table he subjected to a carefulexamination, borrowing the inspector's magnifying-glass for thepurpose. On hands and knees he crawled round the table, still usingthe magnifying-glass upon the linoleum, with which the floor wascovered. From time to time he would pick up some apparently minuteobject and transfer it to another small box. At length he rose tohis feet as if satisfied.

"The professor did not smoke?" he queried.

"No; but the murderer did," was the rather brusque reply. InspectorCarfon was finding the role of audience trying, alike to his nervesand to his temper.

"Obviously," was Malcolm Sage's dry retort. "He also left his pipebehind and had to return for it. It was rather a foul pipe, too," headded.

"Left his pipe behind!" cried the inspector, his irritation droppingfrom him like a garment. "How on earth – !" In his surprise he leftthe sentence unfinished.

"Here," Malcolm Sage indicated a dark stain on the highly-polishedtable, "and here," he pointed to a few flecks of ash some four orfive inches distant, "are indications that a pipe has remained forsome considerable time, long enough for the nicotine to drainthrough the stem; it was a very foul pipe, Carfon."

"But mightn't that have trickled out in a few minutes, or while theman was here?" objected Inspector Carfon.

"With a wet smoker the saliva might have drained back," said MalcolmSage, his eyes upon the stain, "but this is nicotine from higher upthe stem, which would take time to flow out. As to leaving it on thetable, what inveterate smoker would allow a pipe to lie on a tablefor any length of time unless he left it behind him? The man smokedlike 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 drewout 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 hispocket.

"I thought so," he murmured.

"Thought what, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector eagerly.

"Left-handed." When keenly interested Malcolm Sage was more thanusually economical in words.

"Clean through the left side of the occipital bone," Malcolm Sagecontinued. "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 loosenedfrom the inside with the poker," explained Malcolm Sage in amatter-of-fact tone. "The marks upon the poker suggest a left-handedman. 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 wassubsequently attacked from behind as he stood with his back to thefireplace. You are sure the grate has not been touched?" He suddenlyraised his eyes in keen interrogation.

Inspector Carfon shook his head. He had not yet recovered from hissurprise.

"Someone has stirred the ashes about so as to break up the charredleaves into small pieces to make identification impossible. This manhas a brain," he added.

The inspector gave vent to a prolonged whistle. "I knew there wassomething funny about the whole business," he said as if inself-defence.

Malcolm Sage had seated himself at the table, his long thin fingersoutspread before him. Suddenly he gave utterance to an exclamationof annoyance.

The inspector bent eagerly forward.

"The pipe," he murmured. "I was wrong. He put it down because he wasabsorbed in something, probably the papers he burnt."

"Then you think the murderer burnt the papers?" enquired theinspector in surprise.

"Who else?" asked Malcolm Sage, rising. "Now we'll see the butler."

Whilst the inspector was locking and re-sealing the door, MalcolmSage walked round the building several times in widening circles, examining the ground carefully; but there had been no rain forseveral 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 thelaboratory, Sir Jasper Chambers was seen coming down the drivetowards them.

"There's Sir Jasper," cried the inspector.

When they reached the point where the lawn joined the drive theypaused, waiting for Sir Jasper to approach. He walked with long, loose strides, his head thrust forward, his mind evidently absorbedand far away from where he was. His coat flapped behind him, and ateach step his trousers jerked upwards, displaying several inches ofgrey worsted sock.

"Good afternoon, Sir Jasper," said Inspector Carfon, steppingforward and lifting his hat.

Sir Jasper stopped dead, with the air of one who has suddenly beenbrought to a realisation of his whereabouts. For a moment he staredblankly, then apparently recognition came to his aid.

"Good afternoon, inspector," he responded, lifting his black felthat with a graceful motion that seemed strangely out-of-keeping withhis grotesque appearance. In the salutation he managed to includeMalcolm 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, thenbegan to go hurriedly through his other pockets with the air of aman who has lost something.

"I had it a quarter of an hour ago," he said. "I must have droppedit in the – "

"Allow me, sir," said Sir Jasper, extending to Malcolm Sage his ownpouch, which he had extracted from his tail-pocket, whilst theinspector was still engaged in his search. Malcolm Sage took it andwith a nod proceeded to fill his pipe.

"Looks like Craven Mixture," he remarked without looking up from thepipe 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 issingularly mellow," he added, "singularly mellow." He continued tolook straight in front of him, whilst the inspector appeared anxiousto get on to the house.

Having completed his task, Malcolm Sage folded the tobacco-pouch andhanded it back to Sir Jasper.

"Thank you," he said, and proceeded to light his pipe.

Apparently seeing nothing to detain him further, Sir Jasper liftedhis hat, bowed and passed on.

"Regular old cure, isn't he?" remarked the inspector as they watchedthe 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, agentle-faced old man, in appearance rather like a mid-Victorianlawyer. At the sight of the inspector, a troubled look came into hiseyes.

"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 forthem to pass in, he followed and closed it behind him. Malcolm Sageseated himself at the table and Inspector Carfon also dropped into achair. The butler stood, his hands half-closed before him, the palmof one resting upon the knuckles of the other. His whole attitudewas 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 unaccustomednote of gentleness in his tone.

"It has indeed, sir," said the butler, and two tears gathered uponhis lower lids, hung pendulous for a second, then raced one anotherdown either side of his nose. It was the first sympathetic word theold man had heard since the police had arrived, insatiable for facts.

"Sit down," said Malcolm Sage, without looking up, "I shall not keepyou many minutes." His tone was that one might adopt to a child.

The old man obeyed, seating himself upon the edge of the chair, onehand still placed upon the other.

"You mustn't think because the police ask a lot of questions thatthey 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 byanswering my questions."

There was no restless movement of fingers now. The hard, keen lookhad left his eyes, and his whole attention seemed to be concentratedupon 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 thecurtains of her room. I was afraid for the house, sir, and I randown 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 ranback 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 oldservitor the humiliation of explaining that he had been threatenedwith dismissal.

"So you are confident in your own mind that no amount of knocking atthe door would have caused your master to open it?"

"Quite certain, sir," the butler said with deep conviction. "If hehad heard me murdering Mrs. Graham he wouldn't have come out," headded gravely. "He used to say that man is for the moment; butresearch is for all time. He was a very wonderful man, sir," headded earnestly.

"So that to get into the laboratory someone must have had aduplicate 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, themaster always ordered extra food. He was very absent-minded, sir; but he always remembered that. He was very considerate, sir, too. Henever forgot my birthday," and he broke down completely, his frailbody shaken by sobs.

Rising, Malcolm Sage placed his hand upon the old man's shoulder. Asif conscious of the unspoken message of sympathy inspired by thetouch, 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'tknow what I shall do without him." There was in his voice somethingof 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 theprofessor returned to the house, even telegrams."

"Then he was absolutely cut off?" said Malcolm Sage, returning tohis seat.

"That was what he used to say, sir, that he wanted to feel cut offfrom 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 verymuch as he did then, except, of course, that his hair remainedgrey."

"Apart from the food not being taken in, you noticed nothing elsethat struck you as strange?" queried Malcolm Sage.

The old man puckered up his eyebrows, as if genuinely anxious toremember something that would please the man who had shown him somuch 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 havementioned it; but the morning before we found him, the master hadnot 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 hedidn't like it; but I found it was the same he always had."

For fully a minute Malcolm Sage was silent, gazing straight beforehim.

"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 beenunswept 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 ofthe servants once a month."

"You're sure about the sweeping-up?" Malcolm Sage enquired with akeen 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 sokind, and – and understanding, sir," and he walked a littleunsteadily 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 importantcorroboration 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 tothe laboratory; that accounts for the rough marks upon thedoor-fastenings as if someone had first torn them off and then soughtto replace them. After his second visit the murderer evidently stayedtoo long, and was afraid of being seen leaving the laboratory. Hetherefore remained until the following night, eating the professor'smeals. 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 businesson hand.

"Can I run you back to town, Carfon?" he asked, as he walked towardsthe door.

"No, thank you," said the inspector. "I must go over to Strinton andsee Brewitt. He's following up a clue he's got. Some tramp who wasseen hanging about here for a couple of days just before themurder," he added.

"Unless he is tall and powerful, left-handed, with something morethan a layman's knowledge of surgery, you had better not troubleabout him," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "You might also note that themurderer 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 lengthenedjaw. Then suddenly he laughed, a laugh of obvious relief.

"At first I thought you were serious, Mr. Sage," he said, "till Isaw 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 ofthe man when you get him," he said, "and some of the tobacco hesmokes. Try him with marmalade, Carfon, and plenty of it. By the way, you make a great mistake in not reading The Present Century," headded. "It can be curiously instructive," and without another wordhe crossed the hall and, a moment later, entered his car.

"Swank!" murmured Inspector Carfon angrily, as he watched Tims swingthe car down the drive at a dangerous rate of speed, "pure, unadulterated, brain-rotting swank," and he in turn passed down thedrive, determined to let Malcolm Sage see what he could do "on hisown."

II