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

Apparently seeing nothing to detain him further, Sir Jasper lifted his hat, bowed and pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s 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 att.i.tude 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.