"With such friends," he replied, "failure would be an impertinence,"and he and Sir James Walton passed out of the flat to return to whatwas left of the rapidly demobilising Department Z, which had madehistory by its Secret Service work.

In a few days the news leaked out that "M.S.," as Malcolm Sage wascalled by the staff, was to start a private-detective agency. Thewhole staff promptly offered its services, and there was muchspeculation and heart-burning as to who would be selected.

On hearing that she was to continue to act as Malcolm Sage'ssecretary, Miss Gladys Norman had done a barn-dance across the room, her arrival at the door synchronising with the appearance of MalcolmSage from without. It had become a tradition at Department Z that"M.S." could always be depended upon to arrive at the mostembarrassing moment of any little dramatic episode; but it wasequally 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 WilliamJohnson, the office junior, had also been engaged, and theirenthusiasm has been as great as that of their colleague, althoughless dramatically expressed.

A battle royal was fought over the body of Arthur Tims, MalcolmSage's chauffeur. Sir John Dene had insisted that a car and achauffeur were indispensable to a man who was to rival Pinkerton's.Malcolm Sage, on the other hand, had protested that it was anunnecessary expense in the early days of a concern that had yet tojustify itself. To this Sir John Dene had replied, "Shucks!" at thesame time notifying Tims that he was engaged for a year, andauthorising him to select a car, find a garage, and waitinstructions.

Tims did not do a barn-dance. He contented himself for the timebeing with ruffling William Johnson's dark, knut-like hair, a thingto which he was much addicted. Returning home on the evening of hisengagement he had bewildered Mrs. Tims by seizing her as she stoodin front of the kitchen-stove, a frying-pan full of sausages in herhand, and waltzing her round the kitchen, frying-pan and all.

Subsequently five of the six sausages had been recovered; but thesixth 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 hiscolleagues as the innocent, stood at Malcolm Sage's door, withwidened eyes and a general air that bespoke helplessness.

Without a word Malcolm Sage rose from his table, as if accustomedall his life to the fainting of secretaries. William Johnson stoodaside, with the air of one who has rung a fire-alarm and now feelshe is at liberty to enjoy the fire itself.

Entering her room, Malcolm Sage found Gladys Norman lying in a heapbeside her typewriter. Picking her up he carried her into his ownroom, placed her in an arm-chair, fetched some brandy from a smallcupboard 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 hereyes. For a second there was in them a look of uncertainty, thensuddenly they opened to their fullest extent and became fixed uponthe door beyond. Malcolm Sage glanced over his shoulder and sawframed in the doorway Sir James Walton.

"Sit down, Chief," he said quietly, his gaze returning to the girlsitting limply in the large leather-covered arm-chair. "I shall befree in a moment."

It was characteristic of him to attempt no explanation. To his mindthe situation explained itself.

As Miss Norman made an effort to rise, he placed a detaining handupon her arm.

"Send Mr. Thompson."

With a motion of his hand Malcolm Sage indicated to William Johnsonthat the dramatic possibilities of the situation were exhausted, atleast as far as he was concerned. With reluctant steps the lad leftthe room and, having told Thompson he was wanted, returned to hisseat in the outer office, where it was his mission to sit inpreliminary judgment upon callers.

When Thompson entered, Malcolm Sage instructed him to move theleather-covered chair into Miss Norman's room and, when she wasrested, 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 fromwhich tears were not far distant.

"I'm so ashamed, Mr. Sage," she began, her lower lip tremblingominously. "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 tohis seat at the table.

"Working till two o'clock this morning," he remarked as he resumedhis seat. "She won't have assistance. Strange creatures, women," headded musingly, "but beautifully loyal."

Sir James had dropped into a chair on the opposite side of MalcolmSage's table. Having selected a cigar from the box his latechief-of-staff pushed across to him, he cut off the end andproceeded to light it.

"Good cigars these," he remarked, as he critically examined thelighted end.

"They're your own brand, Chief," was the reply.

Malcolm Sage always used the old name of "Chief" when addressing SirJames Walton. It seemed to constitute a link with the old days whenthey had worked together with a harmony that had bewildered thoseheads of departments who had regarded Malcolm Sage as somethingbetween a punishment and a misfortune.

"Busy?"

"Very."

For some seconds they were silent. It was like old times to beseated one on each side of a table, and both seemed to realise thefact.

"I've just motored up from Hurstchurch," began Sir James at length, having assured himself that his cigar was drawing as a good cigarshould draw. "Been staying with an old friend of mine, GeoffreyChalloner."

Malcolm Sage nodded.

"He was shot last night. That's why I'm here." He paused; butMalcolm Sage made no comment. His whole attention was absorbed in anivory paper-knife, which he was endeavouring to balance upon thehandle of the silver inkstand. More than one client had beendisconcerted by Malcolm Sage's restless hands, which theyinterpreted as a lack of interest in their affairs.

"At half-past seven this morning," continued Sir James, "Peters, thebutler, knocked at Challoner's door with his shaving-water. As therewas no reply he entered and found, not only that Challoner was notthere, 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," continuedSir James, "which he sometimes did, he is rather a night-owl. Petersthen went downstairs, but found the library door locked on theinside. As there was no response to his knocking, he went round tothe French-windows that open from the library on to the lawn at theback of the house. The curtains were drawn, however, and he couldsee nothing."

"Is it usual to draw the curtains?" enquired Malcolm Sage, regardingwith satisfaction the paper-knife as it gently swayed up and downupon the inkstand.

"Yes, except in the summer, when the windows are generally keptopen."

Malcolm Sage nodded, and Sir James resumed his story.

"Peters then went upstairs to young Dane's room; Dane is Challoner'snephew, who lives with him. While he dressed he sent Peters to tellme.

"A few minutes later we all went down to the library and tried toattract Challoner's attention; but without result. I then suggestedforcing an entry from the garden, which was done by breaking theglass 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 voicehad become husky with emotion. Presently he resumed.

"We telephoned for the police and a doctor, and I spent the timeuntil they came in a thorough examination of the room. TheFrench-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 onthe inside, and the key was in position. It was unlocked by Peterswhen he went into the hall to telephone. It has a strong mortice-lockand the key did not protrude through to the outer side, so thatthere was no chance of manipulating the lock from without. In thefireplace there was an electric stove, and from the shower of sootthat fell when I raised the trap, it was clear that this had notbeen touched for some weeks at least.

"The doctor was the first to arrive. At my urgent request herefrained from touching the body. He said death had taken place fromseven to ten hours previously as the result of the bullet wound inthe temple. He had scarcely finished his examination when aninspector of police, who had motored over from Lewes, joined us.

"It took him very few minutes to decide that poor Challoner had shothimself. In this he was confirmed by the doctor. Still, I insistedthat the body should not be removed."

"Why did you do that, Chief?" enquired Malcolm Sage, who haddiscarded the paper-knife and was now busy drawing geometricalfigures with the thumb-nail of his right hand upon the blotting padbefore him.

"Because I was not satisfied," was the reply. "There was absolutelyno motive for suicide. Challoner was in good health and, if I knowanything 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 aman 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 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.