Malcolm Sage, Detective

I

Nearly a month had elapsed, and the cattle-maiming mystery seemed asfar off solution as ever. The neighbourhood in which the crimes hadbeen committed had once more settled down to its usual occupations, and Scotland Yard had followed suit.

Sir John Hackblock had written to the Chief Commissioner and aquestion had been asked in the House.

Inspector Wensdale's colleagues had learned that it was dangerous tomention in his presence the words "cattle" or "maiming." Theinspector knew that the affair was referred to as "Wensdale'sWaterloo," and his failure to throw light on the mystery wasbeginning to tell upon his nerves.

For three weeks he had received no word from Malcolm Sage. Onemorning on his arrival at Scotland Yard he was given a telephonemessage asking him to call round at the Bureau during the day.

"Nothing new?" queried Malcolm Sage ten minutes later, as theinspector was shown into his room by Thompson.

The inspector shook a gloomy head and dropped his heavy frame into achair.

Malcolm Sage indicated with a nod that Thompson was to remain.

"Can you borrow a couple of covered government lorries?" queried

Malcolm Sage.

"A couple of hundred if necessary," said the inspector dully.

"Two will be enough," was the dry rejoinder. "Now listen carefully,Wensdale. I want you to have fifty men housed some ten miles awayfrom Hempdon on the afternoon of the 22nd. Select men who have donescouting, ex-boy scouts, for preference. Don't choose any with baldheads or with very light hair. See that they are wearing darkclothes and dark shirts and, above all, no white collars. Take withyou a good supply of burnt cork such as is used by niggerminstrels."

Malcolm Sage paused, and for the fraction of a second there was acurious fluttering at the corners of his mouth.

Inspector Wensdale was sitting bolt upright in his chair, gazing atMalcolm Sage as if he had been requested to supply two lorry-loadsof archangels.

"It will be moonlight, and caps might fall off," explained MalcolmSage. "You cannot very well ask a man to black his head. Above all,"he continued evenly, "be sure you give no indication to anyone whyyou want the men, and tell them not to talk. You follow me?" hequeried.

"Yes," said the inspector, "I – I follow."

"Don't go down Hempdon way again, and tell no one in theneighbourhood; no one, you understand, is to know anything aboutit. Don't tell the general, for instance."

"Him!" There was a world of hatred and contempt in the inspector'svoice. Then he glanced a little oddly at Malcolm Sage.

Malcolm Sage went on to elaborate his instructions. The men were tobe divided into two parties, one to form a line north of the sceneof the last outrage, and the other to be spread over a particularzone some three miles the other side of Hempdon. They were toblacken their faces and hands, and observe great care to show nolight colouring in connection with their clothing. Thus they wouldbe indistinguishable from their surroundings.

"You will go with one lot," said Malcolm Sage to the inspector, "andmy man Finlay with the other. Thompson and I will be somewhere inthe neighbourhood. You will be given a pass-word for purposes ofidentification. You understand?"

"I think so," said the inspector, in a tone which was suggestivethat he was very far from understanding.

"I'll have everything typed out for you, and scale-plans of whereyou are to post your men. Above all, don't take anyone into yourconfidence."

Inspector Wensdale nodded and looked across at Thompson, as if toassure himself that after all it really was not some huge joke.

"If nothing happens on the 22nd, we shall carry-on the second, third, and fourth nights. In all probability we shall catch our man on the23rd."

"Then you know who it is?" spluttered the inspector in astonishment.

"I hope to know on the 23rd," said Malcolm Sage dryly, as he roseand walked towards the door. Directness was his strong point. Takingthe hint, Inspector Wensdale rose also and, with the air of a mannot yet quite awake, passed out of the room.

"You had better see him to-morrow, Thompson," said Malcolm Sage,"and explain exactly how the men are to be disposed. Make it clearthat none must show themselves. If they actually see anyone in theact, they must track him, not try to take him."

Thompson nodded his head comprehendingly.

"Make it clear that they are there to watch; but I doubt if they'llsee anything," he added.

II

At eleven o'clock on the night of July the 23rd, two motor lorriesglided slowly along some three miles distant from one another. Fromtheir interiors silent forms dropped noiselessly on to the moon-whiteroad. A moment later, slipping into the shadow of the hedge, theydisappeared. All the previous night men had watched and waited; butnothing had happened. Now they were to try again.

Overhead the moon was climbing the sky, struggling against masses ofcloud that from time to time swung themselves across her disc.

In the village of Hempdon all was quiet. The last light had beenextinguished, the last dog had sent forth a final challenging bark, hoping that some neighbouring rival would answer and justify avolume of canine protest.

On the western side of the highway, and well behind the houses, twofigures were standing in the shadow cast by a large oak. Their facesand hands were blackened, rendering them indistinguishable fromtheir surroundings.

One wore a shade over a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, a precautionagainst the moonlight being reflected on the lenses.

Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half passed. They waited.Presently one gripped the arm of the other and pointed. At the backof the house immediately-opposite there was a slight movement in theshade cast by a hedge. Then the line readjusted itself and theshadow vanished. A moment later it reappeared in a patch ofmoonlight, looking like a large dog.

Stooping low Malcolm Sage and Thompson followed the dog-like form, themselves taking advantage of every patch of shadow and cover thatoffered.

The mysterious form moved along deliberately and without haste, nowdisappearing in the shadow cast by some tree or bush, nowreappearing once more on the other side.

It was obviously taking advantage of everything that tended toconceal its movements.

Once it disappeared altogether, and for five minutes the twotrackers lay on their faces and waited.

"Making sure he's not being followed," whispered Thompson, and

Malcolm Sage nodded.

Presently the figure appeared once more and, as if reassured, continued its slow and deliberate way.

Once a dog barked, a short, sharp bark of uncertainty. Again therewas no sign of the figure for some minutes. Then it moved out fromthe surrounding shadows and continued its stealthy progress.

Having reached the outskirts of the village, it continued itscrouching course along the western side of the hedge flanking theroadside.

Malcolm Sage and Thompson followed under the shadow of a hedgerunning parallel.

For a mile the slow and laborious tracking continued. SuddenlyMalcolm Sage stopped. In the field on their right two horses weregrazing in the moonlight. It was the scene of the tragedy of themonth previous!

For some minutes they waited expectantly. Suddenly Malcolm Sagegripped Thompson's arm and pointed. From under the hedge a darkpatch was moving slowely towards the nearer of the two animals. Itwas apparently the form of a man, face downward, wriggling alonginch by inch without bending a limb.

"Get across. Cut off his retreat," whispered Sage. "Look out for theknife."

Thompson nodded and slid away under cover of the hedge separatingthe field in which the horses were from that along which thewatchers had just passed.

Slowly the form approached its quarry. Once the horse lifted itshead as though scenting danger; but the figure was approachingupwind.

Suddenly it raised itself, appearing once more like a large dog.Then with a swift, panther-like movement it momentarily disappearedin the shadow cast by the horse.

There was a muffled scream and a gurgle, as the animal collapsed, then silence.

A minute later the form seemed to detach itself from the carcase andwriggled along towards the hedge, a dark patch upon the grass.

Malcolm Sage was already half-way through the second field, keepingwell under the shelter of the hedge. He reached a spot where theintersecting hedge joined that running parallel with the highroad.There was a hole sufficiently large for a man to crawl through fromone field to the other. By this Malcolm Sage waited, a life-preserverin his hand.

At the sound of the snapping of a twig, he gripped his weapon; amoment later a round, dark shape appeared through the hole in thehedge. Without hesitating Malcolm Sage struck.

There was a sound, half grunt, half sob, and Malcolm Sage was on hisfeet gazing down at the strangest creature he had ever encountered.

Clothed in green, its face and hands smeared with some pigment ofthe same colour, lay the figure of a tall man. Round the waist was abelt from which was suspended in its case a Gurkha's kukri.

Malcolm Sage bent down to unbuckle the belt. He turned the man onhis back. As he did so he saw that in his hand was a small, collapsible tin cup covered with blood, which also stained his lipsand chin, and dripped from his hands, whilst the front of hisclothing was stained in dark patches.

"I wonder who he is," muttered Thompson, as he gazed down at thestrange figure.

"Locally he is known as the Rev. Geoffrey Callice," remarked Malcolm

Sage quietly.

And Thompson whistled.

III

"And that damned scoundrel has been fooling us for two years." SirJohn Hackblock glared at Inspector Wensdale as if it were he who wasresponsible for the deception.

They were seated smoking in Sir John's library after a particularlyearly breakfast.

"I always said it was the work of a madman," said the inspector inself-defence.

"Callice is no more mad than I am," snapped Sir John. "I wish I weregoing to try him," he added grimly. "The scoundrel! To think – "His indignation choked him.

"He is not mad in the accepted sense," said Malcolm Sage as hesucked meditatively at his pipe. "I should say that it is a case ofrace-memory."

"Race-memory! Dammit! what's that?" Sir John Hackblock snapped outthe words in his best parade-ground manner. He was more purple thanever about the jowl, and it was obvious that he was prepared todisagree with everyone and everything. As Lady Hackblock and herdomestics would have recognised without difficulty, Sir John wasangry.

"How the devil did you spot the brute?" he demanded, as Malcolm Sagedid not reply immediately.

"Race-memory," he remarked, ignoring the question, "is to man whatinstinct is to animals; it defies analysis or explanation."

Sir John stared; but it was Inspector Wensdale who spoke.

"But how did you manage to fix the date, Mr. Sage?" he enquired.

"By the previous outrages," was the reply.

"The previous outrages!" cried Sir John. "Dammit! how did they helpyou?"

"They all took place about the time the moon was at the full. Therewere twenty-eight in all." Malcolm Sage felt in his pocket and drewout a paper. "These are the figures."

In his eagerness Sir John snatched the paper from his hand, and with

Inspector Wensdale looking over his shoulder, read:

Day before full moon.. 4

Full moon… 15

Day after… 7

Second day after… 2

–

Total 28… 28

"Well, I'm damned!" exclaimed Sir John, looking up from the paper at

Malcolm Sage, as if he had solved the riddle of the universe.

The inspector's only comment was a quick indrawing of breath.

Sir John continued to stare at Malcolm Sage, the paper still held inhis hand.

"That made matters comparatively easy," continued Malcolm Sage. "Theoutrages were clearly not acts of revenge upon any particularperson; for they involved nine different owners. They were obviouslythe work of someone subject to a mania, or obsession, which grippedhim when the moon was at the full."

"But how did you fix the actual spot?" burst out Inspector Wensdaleexcitedly.

"Each of the previous acts had been either in a diametricallyopposite direction from that immediately preceding it, orpractically on the same spot. For instance, the first three werenorth, east, and south of Hempdon, in the order named. Then thecunning of the perpetrator prompted him to commit a fourth, not tothe west; but to the south, within a few yards of the previous act.The criminal argued, probably subconsciously, that he would beexpected to complete the square."

"But what made you fix on Hempdon as the headquarters of theblackguard?" enquired Sir John.