Malcolm Sage, Detective. Jenkins Herbert George

"you can remove the body; but leave the pistol. Give Mr.Challoner's keys to Sir James. And now I think we might lunch," hesaid, turning to Sir James.

      Malcolm Sage's attitude towards the official police was generallydetermined by their attitude towards him. In the Department Z days,he had been known at Scotland Yard as "Sage & Onions." What thephrase lacked in wit was compensated for by the feeling with whichit was frequently uttered. The police officers made no effort todissemble the contempt they felt for a department in which they sawa direct rebuke to themselves. Later, however, their attitudechanged, and Malcolm Sage was brought into close personal touch withmany of the best-known officers of the Criminal InvestigationDepartment.

      He had never been known to speak disparagingly, or patronisingly, ofScotland Yard. On the other hand, he lost no opportunity ofemphasising the fact that it was the head-quarters of the mostefficient police force in the world. He did not always agree withits methods, which in many ways he regarded as out-of-date.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, withentire indifference as to what was on the plate, from which his eyesnever lifted.

      Sir James made several ineffectual efforts to draw Dane intoconversation; but at each remark the young man started violently, asif 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 variousmembers 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 themain-gates, were cross-questioned.

      Mrs. Trennett, the housekeeper, was incoherent in her volubleanxiety to give information. The maids were almost too frightened tospeak, 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 andeconomy of words that caused Malcolm Sage mentally to register himas a good witness. He was a superior kind of man, who had been inhis present position only some six months; but during that time hehad given every satisfaction, so much so that Mr. Challoner hadremarked to Sir James that he believed he had found a treasure.

      According to Peters' account, at a quarter-past eleven on theprevious evening he had gone to the library, as was his custom, tosee if there were anything else that Mr. Challoner required beforehe locked up for the night. On being told there was nothing, he hadaccordingly seen to the fastenings of doors and windows and gone tobed.

      "What was Mr. Challoner doing when you entered the room?" enquiredMalcolm Sage, intent upon a design he was drawing upon the surfaceof 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 yousurprised?"

      "Not greatly, sir," was the response. "Once before a similar thinghappened, and I heard from the other servants that on severaloccasions Mr. Challoner had spent the night in the library, havingfallen 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 hesay?"

      "He said, 'Good Lord! Peters, something must have happened.'"

      "Mr. Dane knew that on previous occasions his uncle had spent thenight in his study?" enquired Malcolm Sage, smoothing out the designupon 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 fewdays, 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 libraryand then out again, other than through the door or the window?"

      Malcolm Sage had relinquished the salt-spoon and was nowmeditatively twirling a wineglass by its stem between his thumb andfirst finger.

      "There is no other way, sir."

      "Who has access to the library in the ordinary way? Tell me thenames 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 inthe 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 throughthe French-windows?" enquired Malcolm Sage, turning once more toPeters.

      "Quite, sir."

      "What time did Mr. Dane return last evening?"

      "I think about a quarter to eleven, sir. He went straight to hisroom."

      "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 akeen, appraising look, then dropped his eyes. Dane was still acutelynervous. His fingers moved jerkily and the corners of his mouthtwitched.

      "Will you tell me what took place yesterday between you and youruncle?" said Malcolm Sage.

      Dane looked about him nervously, as an animal might who has beentrapped 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 angrywhen he knew that my fiancée was – was —

      "A secretary," suggested Malcolm Sage, without looking up.

      "Yes. He ordered me to break off the engagement at once, no matterwhat 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 wordwas