Malcolm Sage, Detective

I

Of the many problems upon which Malcolm Sage was engaged during theearly days of the Malcolm Sage Bureau, that concerning the death ofProfessor James McMurray, the eminent physiologist, was perhaps themost extraordinary. It was possessed of several remarkable features; for one thing the murderer had disappeared, leaving no clue; foranother the body when found seemed to have undergone a strangechange, many of the professor's sixty-five years appearing to havedropped from him in death as leaves from an autumn tree.

It was one of those strange crimes for which there is no apparentexplanation, consequently the strongest weapon the investigator has, that of motive, was absent. As far as could be gathered the deadprofessor had not an enemy in the world. He was a semi-recluse, withnothing about him to tempt the burglar; yet he had been brutallydone to death in his own laboratory, and the murderer had made goodhis escape without leaving anything likely to prove helpful to thepolice.

One day as Gladys Norman, like "panting Time," toiled after her workin vain, striving to tap herself up to date with an accumulation ofcorrespondence, the telephone-bell rang for what seemed to her theumpteenth time that morning. She seized the receiver as a dog seizesa rat, listened, murmured a few words in reply, then banged it backupon its rest.

"Oh dear!" she sighed. "I wish they'd let him alone. The poor dearlooks tired out." She turned to William Johnson, who had justentered. "Why don't you hurry up and become a man, Innocent," shedemanded, "so that you can help the Chief?"

William Johnson looked vague and shuffled his feet. His admirationof Malcolm Sage's secretary rendered him self-conscious in herpresence.

"Sir John Dene and Sir Jasper Chambers to see the Chief," heannounced, obviously impressed by the social importance of thecallers.

"Sure it's not the Shah of Persia and Charlie Chaplin?" she askedwearily as she rose from her table and, walking over to the doormarked "Private," passed into Malcolm Sage's room.

Reappearing a moment later she instructed William Johnson to showthe visitors in at once.

As the two men passed through Miss Norman's room, they formed astriking contrast, Sir John Dene short, thick-set, alert, with thestamp of the West-End upon all he wore; Sir Jasper Chambers tall, gaunt arid dingy, with a forehead like the bulging eaves of anElizabethan house, and the lower portion of his face a riot of shortgrizzled grey hair that seemed to know neither coercion norrestraint. His neck appeared intent on thrusting itself as far aspossible out of the shabby frock-coat that hung despairingly fromhis narrow shoulders.

"I wonder," murmured Gladys Norman, as she returned to her typing,"how many geraniums he had to give for those clothes."

"Morning, Mr. Sage," cried Sir John Dene.

Malcolm Sage rose. There was an unwonted cordiality in the way inwhich he extended his hand.

"This is Sir Jasper Chambers." Sir John Dene turned to his companion."You'll be able to place him," and he twirled the unlit cherootbetween his lips with bewildering rapidity.

Sir Jasper bowed with an old-world courtliness and grace that seemedstrangely out of keeping with his lank and unpicturesque bearing.Malcolm Sage, however, held out his hand with the air of one wishingto convey that a friend of Sir John Dene merited specialconsideration.

He motioned the two men to seats and resumed his own. Both declinedthe box of cigars he proffered, Sir John Dene preferring thewell-chewed cheroot between his lips, whilst Sir Jasper drew a pipefrom the tail-pocket of his frock-coat, which with long fleshlessfingers he proceeded to fill from a chamois-leather tobacco-pouch.

"I've brought Sir Jasper along," said Sir John Dene. "You've heardabout the murder of his friend Professor McMurray. He didn't want tocome; but I told him you'd be tickled to death, and that you'd getit all figured out for him in two wags of a chipmunk's tail."

Malcolm Sage looked across at the eminent philanthropist, whosewhole attention seemed absorbed in the filling of his well-wornbriar.

Sir Jasper's wise charities and great humanitarianism wereworld-famous. It was Will Blink, the Labour demagogue, who had saidthat of all the honours conferred during the century, Sir JasperChambers' O.M. had alone been earned, the others had been eitherbought or wangled.

The McMurray Murder was the sensation of the hour. The newspapershad "stunted" it, and the public, always eager for gruesomesensation, had welcomed it as if it had been a Mary Pickford film.

Four days previously, Professor James McMurray of Gorling, in Essex, had been found dead in his laboratory, his head fearfully batteredin by some blunt instrument.

It was the professor's custom, when engaged upon important researchwork, to retire, sometimes for days at a time, to a laboratory hehad built in his own grounds.

Meals were passed through a small wicket, specially constructed forthat purpose in the laboratory wall, and the professor's servantshad the most explicit instructions on no account to disturb him.

A fortnight previously Professor McMurray had retired to hislaboratory to carry out an important series of experiments. Heinformed his butler that Sir Jasper Chambers, his life-long friend, would visit him on the third day, and that dinner for two was to besupplied in the usual way, through the wicket.

On the evening in question, Sir Jasper Chambers had arrived andstayed until a little past nine. He then left the laboratory andproceeded to the house, where he told the butler that his master wasquite well, and that in all probability his researches would occupyhim another week.

Eight days later, when the butler took the professor's luncheon downto the laboratory, he noticed that the breakfast-tray had not beenremoved from the shelf just inside the wicket. Convinced that theprofessor had been so absorbed in his researches that he hadforgotten the meal, the butler placed the luncheon-tray beside thatcontaining the breakfast, thinking it better to leave the earliermeal as a reminder to the professor of his forgetfulness.

At dinner-time the butler was greatly surprised to find that bothbreakfast and luncheon had remained as he had left them; still, remembering how definite and insistent the professor had been thathe was not to be disturbed, the butler had, after consulting withthe housekeeper, decided to do nothing for the moment, and contentedhimself with ringing several times the electric-bell that was thesignal of another meal.

An hour later he went once more to the wicket, only to discover thatnothing had been touched. Hurrying back to the house with all speedhe had conferred with Mrs. Graham, the housekeeper, and, on herinsistence, he had telephoned to the police.

Sergeant Crudden of the Essex County Constabulary immediatelybicycled over to "The Hollows," Professor McMurray's residence, and, after hearing the butler's story, he had decided to force the door; there are no windows, the laboratory being lighted from above, inorder to secure entire privacy.

To the officer's surprise the door yielded readily, havingapparently been previously forced. Entering the laboratory he washorrified to discover the body of the professor lying in the centreof the floor, his head literally smashed by a terrible blow that hadobviously been delivered from behind.

Acting on the instructions of the police-sergeant, the butler hadtelephoned the news to the police-station at Strinton, with theresult that shortly afterwards Inspector Brewitt arrived with adoctor.

The police had made no statement; but there were some extraordinaryrumours current in the neighbourhood. One was to the effect that itwas not Professor McMurray's body that had been discovered; but thatof a much younger man who bore a striking resemblance to him.

"You have seen the accounts of my friend's terrible end?" enquiredSir Jasper, as he took the box of matches Malcolm Sage handed himand proceeded to light his pipe.

Malcolm Sage nodded. His gaze was fixed upon Sir Jasper's greyworsted socks, which concertinaed up his legs above a pair ofstrangely-fashioned black shoes.

"He was about to enter upon a series of experiments with a serum hehad discovered, his object being to lengthen human life."

Sir Jasper spoke in a gentle, well-modulated voice, in which was adeep note of sadness. He and Professor McMurray had been life-longfriends, their intimacy appearing to become strengthened by thepassage of years.

"You were the last to see him alive, I understand." Malcolm Sagepicked up his fountain-pen and began an elaborate stipple design ofa serpent upon the blotting-pad.

"Eight days before he was found I dined with him," said Sir Jasper, his voice a little unsteady.

"What happened?" Malcolm Sage enquired without looking up.

"I arrived at seven o'clock," continued Sir Jasper. "From then untilhalf-past we talked upon things of general interest, after which wedined. Later he told me he was about to enter upon a final series ofexperiments, the result of which would, in all probability, eitherbe fatal to himself, or mean the lengthening of human life."

He paused, gazing straight in front of him, ejecting smoke from hislips in staccatoed puffs. Then he continued:

"He said that he had recently made a will, which was lying with hissolicitor, and he gave me certain additional instructions as to thedisposal of his property."

"Did he seem quite normal?" enquired Malcolm Sage, adding a pair offormidable fangs to his reptile.

"He was calm and confident. At parting he told me I should be thefirst to know the result."

"Have you any reason to believe that Professor McMurray hadenemies?" Malcolm Sage enquired.

"None," was the reply, uttered in a tone of deep conviction, accompanied by a deliberate wagging of the head.

"He was confident of the success of his experiments?"

"Absolutely."

"And you?"

"I had no means of knowing," was the reply.

"You were his greatest friend and his only confidant?" suggested

Malcolm Sage, adding the sixth pair of legs to his creation.

"Yes."

"And you were to be the first to be told of the result of theexperiments?"

"Those were his last words to me."

There was a suggestion of emotion in Sir Jasper's otherwise evenvoice.

"Can you remember his actual words?"

"Yes; I remember them," he replied sadly. "As we shook hands he said,

'Well, Chambers, you will be the first to know the result.'"

Again there was silence, broken at length by Malcolm Sage, whostroked the back of his head with his left hand. His eyes hadreturned to Sir Jasper's socks.

"Do you think the professor had been successful in his experiments?"he enquired.

"I cannot say." Again Sir Jasper shook his head slowly anddeliberately.

"Did you see the body?"

"I did."

"Is there any truth in the rumours that he looked much younger?"

"There was certainly a marked change, a startling change," was thereply.

"But death plays odd tricks with years," suggested Malcolm Sage, whowas now feeling the lobe of his left ear as if to assure himself ofits presence.

"True," said Sir Jasper, nodding his head as if pondering the matterdeeply. "True."

"There was an article in last month's The Present Century by SirKelper Jevons entitled 'The Dangers of Longevity.' Did you read it?"enquired Malcolm Sage.

"I did."

"I read it too," broke in Sir John Dene, who had hitherto remainedan interested listener, as he sat twirling round between his lipsthe still unlit cheroot. "A pretty dangerous business it seems to me, this monkeying about with people's glands."

"It called attention to the danger of any interference with Nature'scarefully-adjusted balances between life and death," continuedMalcolm Sage, who had returned to the serpent which now sported apair of horns, "and was insistent that the lengthening of human lifecould result only in harm to the community. Do you happen to know ifProfessor McMurray had seen this?"

"He had." Sir Jasper leaned forward to knock the ashes from his pipeinto the copper tray on Malcolm Sage's table. "We talked of itduring dinner that evening. His contention was that science couldnot be constricted by utilitarianism, and that Nature would adjusther balances to the new conditions."

"But," grumbled Sir John Dene, "it wouldn't be until there had beenabout the tallest kind of financial panic this little globe ofmisery has ever seen."

"The article maintained that there would be an intervening period ofchaos," remarked Malcolm Sage meditatively, as he opened a drawerand took from it a copy of The Present Century. "I wasparticularly struck with this passage," he remarked:

"'It is impossible to exaggerate the extreme delicacy of themachinery of modern civilization,' he read. 'Industrialism, thefood-supply, existence itself are dependent upon the death-rate.Reduce this materially and it will inevitably lead to an upheaval ofa very grave nature. For instance, it would mean an addition ofsomething like a million to the population of the United Kingdomeach year, over and above those provided for by the normal excess ofbirths over deaths, and it would be years before Nature couldreadjust her balances.'"

Malcolm Sage looked across at Sir Jasper, who for some secondsremained silent, apparently deep in thought.

"I think," he said presently, with the air of a man carefullyweighing his words, "that McMurray was inclined to under-estimatethe extreme delicacy of the machinery of modern civilization. Irecall his saying that the arguments in that article would applyonly in the very unlikely event of someone meeting with unqualifiedsuccess. That is to say, by the discovery of a serum that wouldachieve what the Spaniards hoped of the Fountain of Eternal Youth,an instantaneous transformation from age to youth."

"A sort of Faust stunt," murmured Sir John Dene.

Sir Jasper nodded his head gravely.

For some minutes the three men sat silent, Sir Jasper gazingstraight in front of him, Sir John Dene twirling his cheroot betweenhis lips, his eyes fixed upon the bald dome-like head of MalcolmSage, whose eyes were still intent upon his horned reptile, which hehad adorned with wings. He appeared to be thinking deeply.

"It's up to you, Mr. Sage, to get on the murderer's trail," said SirJohn Dene at length, with the air of a man who has no doubt as tothe result.

"You wish me to take up the case, Sir John?" enquired Malcolm Sage, looking up suddenly.

"Sure," said Sir John Dene as he rose. "I'll take it as a particularfavour if you will. Now I must vamoose. I've got a date in thecity." He jerked himself to his feet and extended a hand to MalcolmSage. Then turning to Sir Jasper, who had also risen, he added, "Youleave it to Mr. Sage, Sir Jasper. Before long you won't see him fordust. He's about the livest wire this side of the St. Lawrence," andwith this enigmatical assurance, he walked to the door, whilstMalcolm Sage shook hands with Sir Jasper.

II

"Johnnie," said Miss Norman, as William Johnson entered her room inresponse to a peremptory call on the private-telephone, "InspectorCarfon is to honour us with a call during the next few minutes. Givehim a chair and a copy of The Sunday at Home, and watch the cluesas they peep out of his pockets. Now buzz off."

William Johnson returned to his table in the outer office and thelurid detective story from which Miss Norman's summons had torn him.He was always gratified when an officer from Scotland Yard called;it seemed to bring him a step nearer to the great crook-world of hisdreams. William Johnson possessed imagination; but it was theimagination of the films.