Evening Star Newspaper, July 17, 1921, Page 59

LEASE, sir, Miss Norman's fainted.” William Johnson, known to his colleagues as the innocent, stood at Mal- colm Sage's door, with widened eyes and a general air that bespoke helpless- ness. Without a word Malcolm Sage rose from his table, as if accustomed all his life to the fainting of secretaries. En- tering her room, he found Gladys Nor- man lying_in a heap beside her type- writer. Picking her up, he carried her into his own room, placed her in an armchair, fetched some brandy from a small cupboard, and, stil 'watched BY the wide-eyed William Johnsen, pro- ceeded to force a little between hgr teeth. Presently her lids fiickered and a mo- ment later she opened‘her eyes. For a second there was in them a look of un- certail then suddenly” they opened to their fullest extent and became fixed upon the door beyond. Malcolm Sage glanced over his shoulder and saw’ framed in the doorway Sir James ‘Walton. it down, chief.” Re said, quietly, his gaze returning to the girl sitting limply in the large leather-covered armchair. “f shall be free in a moment.” As Miss Norman made an effort to rise, he placed a detaining hand upon h 44 “Semd Mr. Thompson." With a motion of his hand Malcolm Sage indicated to Willlam Johnson that the dramatic possibilities of the situa- tion were exhausted, at least as far as he_was concerned. When Thompson entered Malcolm Sage instructed him to move the leather- _covered chair into Miss Norman's room and, when she was rested, to take her home in the car. Thompson's face be: His devo- tion to Gladys Norman notorious. The girl rose and raised to.Malcolm sage a pair of dark eves fram which tears were not far distan! “I'm so ashamed, Mr. Sage, she be- gan, her lower lip trembling ominously. ve never done such.a thing bef e been working yau too hard” he said, as he held baek the door. “You must go home and rest.” She shook her head and passed out. while Malcolm Sage returned to his seat at the table. « “Working till 2 o'clocks this morn- ing,” he remarked as he.résumed his seat. “She won't have assistance. Strange creatures, women,” h& mdded, musingly, “but beautifully loyal® - Sir James had dropped into & chalr on the opposite side of Malcolm Sage’s table. Having selected a cigar‘from the box his late chief of staff pushed zcrass to him, he cut off the end and proceeded to light it. : “Good cigars these,” he rked, as he critically examined the Hghted end. 3 s “They're your own braud, khiet.” was the reply. Malcolm e used the old name of ‘chief™ addressing Sir James 3, seemed to constitute a links old war days when they fad together with a harmony that bewildered those heads of depart- ments who had regarded Malcolm ge as something between a punish- ment and a misfortune. PR R some seconds they were silent. 1t was like old times to be seated cne on each side of a table, and both seemed to realize the fact. L “I've just motored up from Hurst- ehurch.“+began Sir James at length. having assured himself that his cigar was dPawing as a gopd clgar should draw 2 \ een staying with an old friend of mine. Geoffrey Challpne: Malcolm Sage nodded.: “He wi shot _last.n why I'm_here.” -He paused; but Malcolm Sage made no comment. His whole attention was absorbed in a v paper Knife, which he was.en avoring to balance upon the handle of the silver inkstand. “At half-past 7 this _ morning. ntinued Sir James, ‘Peters, the tler. knocked at Challoner's door with his shaving water. . As there ! was no reply he entered and found. not only that Challoner was not there. e bed had not been sjept-in lifted his hands frbm the r knife. It balanced. i er had’ fallen asleep In i continued.. Sir James, “which he sometimes gid: he is rather a night owl . Peters then | went downstairs. but found the ! library door locked on the ide. As there was no response to his kmock- ing, he went round to the lawn at the back of the house. The curtains were drawn, however. and he could see nothing. Malcolm age nodded, James resumed his story “Peters then went upstairs to young Dane's room: Dane is Chal- loner's nephew, who lives with him. ‘While he dressed he sent Peters to tell me. “A few minutes later we all went/ down to the library and tried te t tract Challoner's attention; but with sut result. I then suggested forcing y from the garden., which_was done by breaking the glags of one of the French windows, and Sir “We found Challoner seated at his| table dead, shot tarought the head. had an automatic pistol in his had become' husky with Presently he resumed: “We telephoned for the police and a_doctor, and I spent the time until they came in a thorough examina- tion of the room. The French win- dows had been securely bolted top and bottom from within by means of a_central handle. All the panes of Klass - were intact, with the excep- tion of that we had broken. The door had been lockel on the inside, and the key was in position. It w. uniocked by Peters when he went into the hall to telephome. It has A strong mortice-lock and the key did not protrude through {o the other side, 8o that there was no chance of manipulating the lock from without. “The doctor was the first to arrive. At my urgent request he refrained { !of The Ce ithat he seemed, unable to control. this first of his adventures. By Herbert Jenkins. g H'M"J" MA 1 B l‘u =i 4l i mmxm’hl'} mlJ ' THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, 'D. C., JULY 17, he Strange Case of Mr. Challone We have bith us today a new detective of the fiction world: ‘He is a marvel, - and he has an entirely new way of solving a mystery. Read y st | kil | It | i 1'1’« CHIRN L P N 3 2 LCOM SAGE BALANCED A DESSERTSPOON AND FORK ON THE BLADE OF HIS.KNIFE. A fow n'unu;;e- laterTDan eitéred the m.. Malcolm Sage, fave him'a keen, :“pfiul-mk look, then gvpped his eyes. Dane wag still acutely nervous. “Will you tell me '{lt’(gok place yes- te bet]ween you andyour uncle?” said Malcolm Sage. =3 3 ‘We "had a r‘?lw." he began,” then uged: ‘‘a. ‘terrible row.” D% S0 I upderstand,”‘said Malgolm Sage. “I know, what it wab about.’ Just tell me ‘actually * Whlk“'fookl pl In as rds as poesible, ple !.’A';eek ‘:‘fi told my unclé of my engagement, and he was very angry fact, and everitua)ly I was sent for as Chailoner's oldest friend. You advised?’ When keenly inter- ested, Malcolm Sage's questions were like pistol-shota. ‘That Challoner should wait and 'Did he?" Again Sir James hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, however. “Yes; but unfortunately with the object of endeavoring to buy her off. Yesterday afternoon Dane brought her over. Challoner saw her alone. She didn’t stay more than a quarter of an hour. Then she and Dane left the house together, he to see her to the station. An hour later “he re- turned. I was in the hall at the time. He was in a very excited state. H pushed past me, burst into the libra- ry, banging the. door behind him. “That evening at din: Challoner told me there had been a very = pleasant scene. He had.warned the boy that unless” he apologized today he would telephone to Londen for his lawyer, and make /a ‘fresh - will en- tirely disinheriting him. Sdon after the intérview Dane went out:-'of tl\e] | with {ll-disguised Impatience, “you can remove the body; but leave the pistol. Give Mr. Challoner’s keys to Sir Jame: And now 1 think we might lunch,” he' said, turning to Sir James. ~ 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 Waiton, he would have refused to delay the re moval of the body. The doctor had pro- nounced the wound self-inflicted, and even if he had not done so, the circum- a rnrstrained Malcolm Sage ate as he always “ + entir the plate, from-wh.cn lifted. - ‘ - 1 Sir James made several ineffectual @fforts to draw Dane. into conver- sation ;- but at each remark the young iman started violently, as if suddenly 'rpcal)ed to-his-surroundings Finally 8ir James desisted, and the meal concluded in abysmal silence. ."Malcolm .Sage the: anponnced that he would examine the various mem- house, and apparently. did not‘return | hers of the househoiu, @nd Dane and fact, until late—as a matter of ter had gone.to bed. I was feeling tired and said good night' to.Chal- lonér about half-past 10 in the”li- brary. 5 ' & pity you let the butler un- 1t lock-the door;* he remarked regref- fully. i SV e Sir James looked acrofs at, highfgte chief of staff~ keenly. He “de ed something of reproach in his tone. “Did you. happen to notice if: the electric light was on when you. en- tered the library?” £ “No,” sald Sir James, after a slight pause; “it was not.’ 5 Malcolm Sage reached across to the private telephone -and _gave the “three on the buzger” that alway galvanized Miss Gladys Norman in instant vitality. “Miss' Norman.,” saldSage as ¢he entered,” “‘c: you lend me thz small mirror 1 have seen. you ise oscasiou- ally?” “Yes, Mr. Sage,” and she disap- peare, returfiing a moment later with the ‘mirror from her handbag. was accustomed - to "B!.llcolfl! strange requests. * x x* wauarter of an hour later the two men entered “Sir James' car, ‘whilst Thompxon_lnd Dawkins, the official photographer to the bureau, followed in that driven by .Tims. Malcolm Sage would cheertully have sacrificed anybody and, anything to serve his late chief. As the car drew up, the hall-door dars was thrown open by lean-shaven the butler, a fair-haired,c! man of about forty-five, with grave, impassive face, and eyes that gave the impression of allowing little to escape them. 4 As he descended the flight of stone steps to open the door of the car a young man appeared behind him. A moment later Sir James was intro- ducing him to Malcolm Sage. as *Mr. Sir James paused; his voice | Richard Dan emotion. | Dark, .with smoothly brushed.hair, and a toothbrush ‘mustache, he might easily have been: passed over in a crowd without a second glance. - He was ob- viously and acutely nervous. His fin- gers moved Jerkily, and “there ' were twitchings at the corner of his mouth was not a good-tempered -mouth. Peters conducted Sir James and Mal- colm Sage to the dining room, where luncheon was laid. EZa “Shall 1 serve tuncheon, Sir ‘James”' he inquired, ignoring Dane, who was clearly unequal to:.the - strain - of : the duties of host. 2 3 ] Sir James iooked across at’ Malcolm Sage, Who shook his head. Til see the library first.” he said. Sir James will show me. Fetch Daw. he sald to Thompson, and he fol- Sir James through the house out from touching the body. He sal death had taken place from seven to ten hours previously as the result of the bullet wound in the terple. He had scarcely finished his examination when an inspector of police, who had motored over from Lewes, joined u “It took him very few minutes to decide that poor Challoner had shot himself. ‘In this he was confirmed by the doctor. Still I insisted the body should not be removed.’ “Why_did you do that, chief?" en- quired Malcolm Sage. “Because I was not satisfled,” was the reply. “There was absolutely no motive for suicide. Challoner was in ®ood health and, if T know anything about men, determined to live as long us the gods give. Again Malcolm Sage nodded his head meditatively. “The jumping to hasty condlu- sion: he remarked, ‘has saved many a man hig neck. Whom did you leave in charge? he queried. “The inspector. 1 locked the door; here is the key,” he said, produdn: it from his jacket pocket. “I told him to allow no one into the room. , _“Why were you there Sage suddenly looked up, Malcolm flashing that keen, steely look through his|’ 1d-rimmed spectacles that many men had found g6 disconcerting. “Ordinary visit?’ he queried. “No.” 'Sir James paused, apparent- 1y deliberating something in his own mind. He was well acquainted with Malcolm Sage's habit-of asking ap- parently irrelevant questions. “There’s been a little difficulty be- tween Challoner .and his nephew,” he said slowly. “Some days back the Toy announced his ‘determination .of marrying a girl he‘had met in don, a typist or s was greatly upset, ahd- <t him out of hh{l.lel if he persist Zutio Was a scene, Beveral scenes, in. kin: 4 | lowea hat | g‘-‘e right temple, from which blood on to the lawn. “ ¥ - As they entered the library by the French windows a tall,’sandy man rose from the armchair in which he was seated. He was Inspector Gorton of the Sussex county constabulary. Malcolm Sage nodded ‘a-little absently. His eyes were_keenly taking in every detail of the figure.sprawli acrogs the .erit- ing table. The head rested on the left cheek, and there was an ugly 'mlndmll:l p] and congealed upon the table. In,thé right hand was clutched a small automatic pistol. -The arm was slightly curved, the weapon pointing to the left. Malcolm Slllf%ext ed to re- gard the body ffom every angle, even going down on his knees to see the posi- tion of the legs beneath the table. He then walked round the room and exam- ined eve with minute attention, particularly the key in the door, which Sir’ James had ‘re| in its position og the inside. /The keyhole sides of the door came in for scruth . 5 i he returned -to the table, D‘fln' on one knee on th o where, dro] left-hand sie penknife from his ‘with great care and up the outer seam that-the pocket ldy e This in turn he cut open, t. proceed deliberation _to slit. of ‘the trousers. so taking care e Sage's it) of the body, he drew a|mald. and led Peters. left -the room. One by one the servants entered, were©_interrogated. and devarted. Even the\gardener and his wife,-who lived ut the lodge, by the main gate, Wwere- cross-questioned. g Mrg. Trennett, the hoysekeep lincolekent ‘In - her’ voluble anxfe(v fo give information. The maids wéve'al- most. too frightened to speak,;and from none was anything tahgible ex- tracted. Xo one’ had any reason for being near the library late at night. - When Peters' turn cume he ‘tald his story with a clearness and econ= omy ‘of - words - that@caused Mflco‘lml Sage mentally to-register' him as a lgood witness. He was a. superior kind, of man, who had been. in “his present | ‘position only - some six I months; but during that time he “ given -every: satisfaction, so_much 8¢/} tthat Mr. Chlloner -had remdrked to 'Slr James that he¢ believed he had ;(ound a treasure. H - £ *x '* : A i A CCORDING fo Petess! account, £t & £ quarter-past_eleven on the. pre- ! vious evening he had gone to the libra- ry, as was his custom, to see if there were anything elsé that Mr. Chal: {loner required before he locked up was nothing, he had acéordingly seen {to the’ fastenings of doors and win- jdows and gone ‘to bed. when you -éntcred the .room?” in- quired Malcolm Sage, intent upon a de- sign he was drawing upon the surface iof the salt . |_ ‘He was sitting at the table where und him this morning.” ‘hat was he-actually doing?” ibonk “Did you notice any anner?” | “Not greatly, |sponse, “Once before a simHar thing i happened, and 1 heard from the other servants that on several occasions Mr. Challoner had spent the night in fthe library, having fallen asieep thers 7 S § { hen .you told Mr. Dane that his uncle |that the library door was locked ‘on the inside, what did he say’ “He said, .‘Good Lora! something. must-have happened. #Mr. Dane ‘knew -that on previous occasions - his _uncle - had spent the night_in_ his study?”. inquired: Mal- colm Sag & “I thinm s0, gir."” was the reaponse. ‘The pistol was one he used at t get_practice?” A . ‘es, sir.” Where did fe keep it?° .~ * the third right-hapd drawer o you Know of any Mr. Challoner should commit suicide?” Malcolm Sage inguired of Peters. lone whatever, sir; ‘he always ed very happy.” “We had no domestic worries?"” Peters hesitated for a moment. - - “He never mentioned any 1o me, sir. ‘ou have in mind certain events that occurred during the past few days, 1 take it?" saild Malcolm Sage. { *“That was in my mind, sir,’ response. “You know of no other way by which apy one_could have got into the.library and then out again, other than through the door or the window? ““There is no other way, sir.’ “Who has access to the library in the ordinary way? Tell me the names everybody who is likely to go in at any .. Peters, r- was the both careful'| tim¢ *“Outside Mr. Challoner and Mr. Dane, there is . myself, Mrs. Trennett, . the and ' Meston, ' the house. st ot to disturb the bunch of keys which,. thigh, |8 attached to a chain, lay on_ th = little to the left. B = Having ‘himself that the keys would not I(llflf):fl m'I.-llefllln Sage rose SRR bove. an showing - the: ng_;qonnauh.mmnum ed. | Malcolm Sage, turning to the inspe~*or. who had been w-tching the"proc | Sage: “That will be all now. Tel * ‘shoukd ke to Ree him.t < Peters noisclessly viti ' e inlifference as to what was on veod [for fhe night. On beingatold’ there’ “What was Mr. Challoner doing | “I think he was checking his bank- | thing strange had not slept in his room -and | ,” rang up the W Lewes branch of the’ Badk. .;- i L] when he knew that my flancee was— was— ‘A uecrehr{ " suggested - Malcolm Sage, without looking up. “'Yes. e ordered me to break off the engdgement at once, no matter what it might-cost. I refused. Four.days ago Sir James ‘came. and, 1 think, talked things ovér with my uncle, who said he would see Enid, that is, my flancee. She came yesterday afiernoon. My uncle insisted on seeing her alone. She stayed only a few minutes.” “You walked back to the station with her,” remarked Malcolm , “and she told you what had taken place. our uncle hadeoffered to buy her off. | You were furious. You said many wild and extfavagant things. Then you came fl‘fl' ant ::rt,lwmle.dnte‘l‘y into the 3 took place there?’ l ‘-ngnn't remember what I said. I think for the time 1 was insane. He had_actually .offered her money, notes. He had drawn them out of the bank on purpose.” Again he stopped, as if the meme of ‘the insult were too much for “And ‘you said?’ suggested Malcolm s *x ok % "‘I-dm'z remember what I. sald; but my uncle, told ‘me that. unles wrote to Enid today'giving_her up and apalogized to bim,'- he would - tele- phone’ for his lawyer and make a fresh” will, cutting mie.out of it en- tirely.'. I was to have until the next. morning ta declde—that 'is, today. “And what would your decision have been?” he asked ’ “I told him that if he gave years it-would be the same." “That you would not do as he ished?" “Certainly not.” “Unttl this episode you were on good” : terms. “with ~each other?” Malcolm Sage had got a dessert spoon ndfork to balance on the blade of knife. « b “Yes; 2 - “You know of no reaso; uncle‘should take his life “Do’ you' bélieve he ‘shot.himself me ten [ w | Malgolni-Ssge seemedl ‘absorbed in the rise and- fal “‘But, for “the have gaid ‘no. “By. the way, where did.your uncle enquired’ Malcolin Sage cas- ‘At"the Southern ' Counties and Brown's Bank, Lewes,” was the reply. “Thank you. That will do, I think, for the present. You.had better run ‘round to your doctor and get him to give you ‘something to steady your veg,” sald Majcolm Sage,” with eyes ad lost their professional glint. i—“’rhey are’all- on ‘edge.” Malcolm Sage rose and, walking over to ‘the door, removed the key, exadmining the wards intently, then | repldced it and, opening the door, walRed across {o the library. He found that Dawkins had com- !pleted his work. and the body of Mr. Challoner had been remgved. b Seating himself at the table. he took the automatic pistol in his hand and deliberately removed the car- tridges. Then placing the, muzzle {against 'his right temple he turned his | eyes momentarily on Dawkins, who, having anticipated his wishes, had ialready adjusted = the camera He removed the cap. replaced it, and then quickly’ reversed the plate. * « Pulling the trigger. Malcolm Sage allowed his head to fall forward, his right hand. which held the pistol, dropping on' the, table befare, him. Dawkins took another photograph. » said Malcolm Sage to 'You shdot me through right temple, approaching ‘from hind. . Grip my ‘head as if ‘you pected me to resist. . 7+8ir James did as he was requested, Dawkins making ghother exposure. Malcolm : Sage motiangd “Thompson to draw the curtains. Then dropping on to his knees by the Iib; he took the smail mirror rowed from Miss Norman and, placing it partly. beneath the door, carefully examined' the reflection by the aid of an_electgic - torch. ¢ ~When he rose it s with the air of 8 marln ‘who'had nlunfle%hll:nll upon some impartant point. ‘He then turned l:o'};g- :.,lnét" t those ‘fi “Ybu mighit: get those ‘finger prints,” he siiid casually. “Get every one to- gether. In the dining room. See that no one leaves {t‘for at least a quarter of an hour. Thompson will go *with your . 0% .Whilst" Sir James Walton and Thompson' were occupied with a room- ful of domestics, talking in whispers as:if in the presence of death, Mal- colm Sage ‘was en in a careful examination 0f the bottomy of all the doors in the' house by means of a mirror, placed ‘3 .“beneath ~ each. He aiso removed the keys and gave swift look at the wards of h. He moved quickly:; yet wWithout hast if his brain had entire con- trol. of ithe situation. “ One door in pariicular appeared to interest him, so much so t he e tered the room udE»rou led to e: ?.."""&"u'&'-‘-m . 0 rw:’:' gor e care. every- tlfnluhhfound ite - 2 From ' the middle drawer. of the chest of :drawars '\ he d. from under & plle of .clothes;a thin steel object, some five .or six inches in length, wound ‘round with a fipe, strong twine. ' THis he slipped into down: into. the of the Coun- f the balancing silver. lt:cked‘ door \I should 1 Sir the be- ex- hall, ties " Passing the,drawers o had, l:zl 1ibzary, he searched g into’ , he: table at which Mr, S0 Inlone”of e | S P acovared. the: passbook. | 1 7 | Seatings! 1£.af_the table, he: pro- ceeded to examine it <caréfully. Turn- Where cancelled checks are usualy placed, he found both were empty. ‘When a few minutes later Sir James and Thompson entered with the fin- gerprints, Malcolm Sage was seated at. the table smoking. Taking the sheets of paper from Thompson, he went' through them rapldly, then drawing a sheet of note-paper from the rack before him he' scribbled a hasty note, inclosed with one of the finger~ prints in ‘an envelope, Which he sealed, ‘addressed, and handed to Thompson with instructiong to- see that it was delivered without delay. inquired Malcolm Sage as the young man -entered, followed by Peters. Dane shook hisz head and looked atPeters. Mr. Challoner always wore it on his hain, sir,” said the butler. = ‘Have you any objection to the Safe being opened?’ Inquired Malcolm Sage to Dane. “None whatever.” “Then perhaps you will open 1t?" sald Maicolm Sage. turning to Sir James. In the safe were found several bun- dles of létters and share certificates, and an old cashbox containing some ldose 'stamps, but nothing else. Malcolm. Bage dismissed Peters and | Dane, saying that he would be returning | to town after dinner. In the meantime | he and Sir James strolled about the grounds, whilst Dawkins was busily oc- cupled in a darkened bathroom. 1t was nearly 9 o'clock when the distant moan of a hooter announced to Malcolm Sage's, alert ears the return of ims. He rose from the table ~and walked slowly to the door, where for some seconds he stood with his hand upon the knob, As the car drew up he slipped into the hall, just as Peters opened the door. A _moment. later the butler started back. his right hand seemed to fly to his left breast pocket. At the same moment Malcolgn Sagh sprang forward. There was a flash, report, and two bodies fell at the 'feet of Inspector Wensdale of Scotland Yard, and another man standing beside. n a second, however, they had thrown themselves upon the struggling heap, and when Malcolm Sage rose to his feet it was to look down upon Peters pinned to. the floor by the inspector, with the strange man sitting on his legs. * % % % “[HERE is no witness 50 sure as the \eamera,” remarked Malcolm Sage, e gazed from one to the other of two photographs before him, one repre- senting him bolding an automatic pistol to his own head, and the other in which Sjr'James was posing as a murderer. Malcolm Sage never falled to empha- size the importance of photography in the detection of crime. He contended 1991 ing ‘to the pockets at elther end." ¥Ue o % FPART 4. for all timd what the eye could only dimly register for the moment, with the consequent“danger of forgetfulness. He picked up a third photograph and Iaid it.beside the others. It was a print of Er. Challoner’s head, showing, marked ihk, the course of the bullet toward the left of the frontal. bone. A shooting himself,” began Malicolim “places the pistol in a position so that the muzzle is directed towards the back of the head. On the other hand, any one approaching his victim from behind would have a ten- dency to direct the muzzle toward the front of the head. That is why I got Dawkins' to take a photograph of me holding the pistol to my head and of you holdinig it from behind. These Photographs will constitute the princi- pal evidencq at the trial.” Sir James nodded., He was too in- terested to interrupt. 2 n this enlargement of the wound,” continued~Malcoim Sage, “you will see an abrastorron, the side nearer the ear, as if the head had suddenly been jerked backwards ‘between the time of the muzsle being placed against the temple | 2nd the sctual firing of the shot.” Thompsonsleaned mcross to examine the ph h. 5.0f some one sitting at a | “If the &: table ,affi‘{g denly and unexpectedly covered . frgeh behind, the natural in-| stinct i to MeFk backward so that the head nin! B tyrned to see who it is. 'hat is-exactly’ what occurred with Challoner, He jerked backwards, and the barrepoflithe pistol grazed the skin and. was™deflected still more toward the fromtak:Rone.” Sir Jgmes.and Thompson exchanged glances, Dawkins stood by. a look of happiness inh his eyes. His beloved camera wad Justifying itself once more. Inspector Wensdale breached heavily. 4 “Apart frof all this, the position of the head on the table and’the way in which the hand was holding the pistol, not to speak of the curve of the arm, ‘were unnatural. You get some idea of this from the photograph that Dawkins took of me, although I could only sim- ulate death by relaxing the muscles. Again, the head would hardly be likely to twist on to its side. “The mext step,” continued Malcolm Sage, “was how could any one get, into the room and approach Challoner with- out_being heard or ‘sensed'?” “He must have been very much ab- sorbed in' what he wids doing,” sug- gested Sir James. Malcolm Sage shook his head and for a few seconds gazed at the photographs before him. “You-will remember there was noth- ing on the table in front of him. It is very unlikely that a man sitting-at a table would not be comscious of some one approaching him from behind, no ‘matter how quietly he stepped, unjéss that man's presence in the room were son who could be in the library without | Challoner taking any notice of him. Consequently it was easy for him to approach his master and shoot him.” “But the locked door, sir,” said Thompson. : “That is a_very simple matter. An ordinary lead pencil, with a plece of string tied to one end, put through the | Fing of the key to act as u lever, she cord being passed beneath the door, Wil lock any door in existence. The encjl can then be drawn under the D a “That is why you examined the un- der edge of the door?’ suggested Sir James. Malcolm Sage nodded. “The marks of the cord were clearly defined and reflected in the mirror. “Mr. Sage, you're a wonder,” burst out the inspector. “I then,” procceded Malcolm Sage. “examined all the other doors in the house, and I found that of one room, which I after discovered to be Peters’, was heavily scored at the bottom. He had evidently practised fairly ex- tensively before putting the plan into operation. He had also done the same thing with the library door, as there were marks of more than one opcration. - Furthermore, he was wiser than to take the risk of so clumey a tool as a lead-pencil. He ueed this.” Mal Im Sage drew from his pocket | the roll of twine with the thin steel ingtrument down the center. Tt was a canvas-needle, to the eye of which the cord was attached. ““This was absolutely safe,” he re- marked. “Another thing 1 discovered was that one lock, and only one lock in the -house, had recently been oiled —that of the library door.” Sir James nodded his head several times, There was something of self- reprcach in the motion. - “Now," continued Malcolm Sag: “we come back to why a man shoul be sitting at a table absorbed in gazing at nothing, and at a time when most of the household are efcher in bed or preparing for bed.” “Peters said that he was checking | his _pass-book,” suggested Sir James. “That is undoubtedly what he was doing.” continued Malcolm Sage, “and Peters removed the pass-book, put it in a diawer, first destroying the can- celled checks. He made a blunder in not replacing the pass-book with something else. That was the last link In the chain, he added. “I dom't quite see—" began James. . Sir ’Ing for the first time. {said Malcolm Sage, He ters. “That is true” said Dane, speak- * ¥ «THAT evening he proceeded 5 compare it with his check-book. I suspect that Peters had been forging checks and he saw here what would leud to discovery. JFurthermore, there was a considerable sum of money in the safe, and the quarrel between uncle and nephew to divert suspicion This, however, was mere conjecturs- that trouser-pocket photo, Dawkins." sald Malcolm Sage, turning to the photographer, who handed it across to him. “Now notice the position of those keys. They are put in head foremost and do not reach the bottom of th pocket. They had obyiously been taken away and replaced in the pocket a: Challoner sat there. Had he gone to the safe himself and walked back to his chair. the position of the keys would have been quite different.” Instinctively each man feit in hi trousers pocket, and found in his ow bunch of keys a verification of the statement. “The whole scheme was too calcu- lated and deliberate for an amateur.’ knocking the ashes out of his pipe on to-a brass ashtray. “That is what prompted me to get the finger prints of Peters. <o that 1 might gend them to Scotiand Yard to see if apything was known of him thére. The result you have seen. “We've been on the look out for him for more than a year,” said In- spector Wensdale. “The New York police are rather interested in him about a forgery stunt that took place there some time ago." “Then, again, there was the electric light,” proceeded Sage. “A man’ about to blow otit ‘his brains would certginly not walk scross the room, switch off the light and then find his way back to the table. “On_the other hand, a murderer. who has to stand at a door for al least some seconds., would not rish leaving on the light, which would at- tract the attention of any one who might by chance be in the hall, or on the stairs.” “Well, I'm glad 1 didn't get yo down on a fool's errand, ' Sir James, rising. “Did_you susp Peters was armed?” 2 “] saw the pistol under his left arm- quite a natural thing. That gave me that a photographic print established the clue to Peters. He is the only.per- “What actually happened was that | pit,” sal alcolm Sage. “It's well Mr. Challoner went to his bank to!known with American gunmen as a draw five hundred pounds with which [most convenient place for quick draw- he hoped to bribe his nephew's |j flapcee. He trusted to the tempta- It it hadn't been for vou, Mr. Sage. tion of the actual money rather than ' he'd have got me,” said Inspector a check. When he was at th i | Wensdale. . the manager once more asked to]| “There'll be w heavy catful for return his pass-book, which had not | Tims,” remarked Malcolm Sage, as he been .balanced for several months. | walked toward the door. SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION TO RECEIVE FAMOUS WARD COLLECTION FROM PARIS ‘BY STERLING HEILIG. PARIS, July 10, 19p1. N the way to America, hence- forth to hold a permanent place in the Smithsonian In- stitution in Washington, is a collection which {8 called unique in the world. It is the famous collection of the late Herbert Ward, who was the last surviving member of the Stanley expedition into darkest Africa. He was a Britisher, well known as an explorer, sculptor, writer and, above all, perhaps, as thé man who stepped out of twentieth century civilization’ back into the stdne age, when he_spent years of his life among the remote Congo tribes. ‘Ward found the soul of primitive Africa and, in doing so, is said to have found the béginnings of all mankind— a thing reflected in these strange im- plements, weapons and other relics which he brought’ out with him, and no less in the powerful brooding types.of his bronze statues. Shortly before the war Herbert Ward revealed the uitimate destination of this unique mass of material, which is priceless, because its like can never be collected again. In honor of his/| Amcrican wife ‘and in gratitude for American _kindnesses to himself, he dedicated the entire collection to the Smithsonian, founded in Washington by another Englishman a hundred years ago “for the increase of knowl- edge among men."” * % % % MET Herbert Ward in the spring of 1913. He was an outstanding fig- ure in Paris-at that moment, and one of the happlest and most fortunate men, you might say, in the cultured French capital. , He wore the red rib- bon of-the Legion of Honor. He was a member of the Epatant, the envied club, with its terrace on the Avenue Gabriel, between the Hotel Crillon and what -was to be, later, the American Red Cross' gardened town house. He was Herbert. drawn to life in Hop- kinson Smith's book, “The Armchair at the Inn.” In Paris soclety his wife ‘was the ‘American hostess who gath- ered around her representative Eng- 1ish, French. and her own people. Mrs. Wa who has herself given the.funds and other support necessary to the carrying out of her husband’'s bequest, was a Miss Sanford of New York, daughter of C. H. Sanford, esq., a sort of Plerbont Morgan of the Ar- e—one of the, principal men in elopment of that country—and in Eaton square, London, at the tl living time of.the. marriage. ~ There-remain four :children —two married daughters, Mrs. Colville Bar- clay, whose husband-just before the war was first secretary of the British embassy at St Pe;enhnrfi; and Mrs. BEric- Phipps, wifé of the British charge d'affaires at Belgrade at ‘the same moment, and‘two surviving sons. The eldest is Herbert Ward, who a_lisutenant “ in the royal air force, Gaptured -by - the~ Germans and who made a -sensatl e through Tam. gest, Rodman, s & < A third son was, killed in the war. - It -was“Gf- this son, who was to be F1 i Wonderful Sculptures | | QTERLING HEILIG, The Sunday Star's | i Special Correspondent in France, Reports En Route to Washington—Collected by Man Who Was Last Surviving Member of the Stanley Expedition\lmo'Dar_kest Africa—The Mass of Curios to H.a;’ve'a‘permanent Home. and Ethnological Data I | 1 | i | killed in the war. that his father was so proud in 1913. /At Oxford he had just won in the elimination trials as welterweight to represent his unive: sity against Cambridge. Previous] he had won the public schools boxing competition, held annually by the mili- tary authorities at Aldershot. Young Ward had represented Bton. ¥ “He is good at the gamexl the | father told happily. - “In the firs three contests he knocked out each adversary in the first round and won the final. The second man_was in- sensible for quite a tim ‘When he came to, b who was bending over him, hope that you will soon be all right. ed ‘up smiling. ‘What a wallop said. ‘'l hope that you'll win. that' the sporting spirit!” bea the father. who had done some wal loping himself. Jn those days the Wards spent their mmers at Rollebois, outside Paris. in the beautiful home which Herbert had built on the heights overlooking the Seine. At the top-of the private drive you read his greeting: “Leave all your troubles at the bot- tom of the hill."”, * X X % ing of his ideal bronzes, he | smoothed out ithe troubles -of. the | humbleat folkss who hit the capital. He found,themrin the spring fairs, which brought Pezon's menagerie and CORNER OF THE MAGNIFICENT MUSEUM WHICH HERBERT WARD ARRANGED BESIDE - ARiS. PHOTO TAKE! ST BE e HIS STUDIO IN PARIS. TAKEN JU! FORE. ROOM WAS DISMANTLED BEFORE BATTLE OF THE MARNE. ety Congo viliages to the outskirts, poor, forlorn "native Africans lost in Eu- rope! . Once ;1 6aw him at the fair of Neuilly. :He "had just left two old Zanzibatt;s gibbering fawning over gold piece: “What are they saying™” Fasked, “O, Bkana wanga! Let mesfollow him! Alikua rafiki angu sana! - He is my great friend!” I noted it down as Herbert Ward translated. It wasa joining episode betweeh hi rich, full:life In Paris.and the days when he was the. Whly chief in wn- knowm ~Africa. come .with ‘wild animals to Hamburg or withsiTubber to Antwerp had he not.picked-up, drifting, stajed, clean. encotraged and, perhaps, taken to hiss big “studio in the Boulev: Berthien, to pose! s o8 ’ Am this wonderful collection .is to have pdtmanent rooms all to itself in the Sfdithsonian, I will give you & glimpse of Herbert Ward when he had got it all fixed up, less than two years before it had ‘to be hastily dismantled N Paris, seeking models for the pos- | How:sriany “an..unfortunate native ed, ‘was hi to get it -out of -reach of the approach- ing Germans in 1914. . It was a museum then, as now—a collection such as no white man ever before' possessed, the finest collection in. thie world in_guality, and prebably in number as well. He received me in it @ number of times, and on some occasions I made notes, with his per-. miseton and did. In fact. at one time I'helped with the catalogue. after hav- ing procured:him a pegulfarly compe- tent stenographer, etc. g “All this is p: nd gone,” he would wave his hand. ere is the soul’ of primitive Africa., It is no.more! ‘See these broad knives,” he would ex- plain. “When the first men, untaught and groping after art, tried to give deco- rative form to usual objects, they made their knife like a leaf. See the ribs! And. here is the first dyed design in grass cloth. They tied stones in small | sags of its surface, clinching the tie with | wraps of grass string, and then dipped |the" cloth.” All was dyed except the | varied circles round the mecks of the | tied stones, where the:grass string kept the cloth dry. See the design it makes! “Here,” he would say, “is the talk drum—wireless telegraph of the ston age. It’is the trunk of a tree as hard as iron, hollowed laboriously by | hand wielding a stmple knife. | "He would pound sonorous notes on it “Those two deep notes told everything. They put the drum along the edge of a river and the deep notes traveled as far as ten miles—to be relayed on and or, man’s | above all, that dolorous mas which he named “Distress, b2 |tor. the chief, the fugitives 1 while race have altogether lost viticn of the stone age origins. These primitive Africans used: metal stone. The statues, well above life size, have received all the medals and hon- ors which France could give to a for- éigner. With the collection they form a mirror of the primitive 1ife of all men. * x * ® (QNE afternoon in 1913 I gt with Herbert Ward. H “I always had a love of &r said. “In my travels to skétc: model came natural to me;" “You traveled young?" I sal “I practically ran away from home at the age of fifteen—went to'#ea as sallor, got about all over the world and turned up in Africa at fwenty- one, after doing all JNew he and testing hardships in thé HEt Australia and penetrating «in unkmown country in North Borneo From twenty-one 1 was five years on end in Central Africa. It was the ro- mantic time of the 9penlag of the country, everything Being few and unspoiled™ § It was through Stanlcy that he con- tinued on, after having spent neariy threc years in the service of the Bui- 1 the Kongo. 1 was on myswi when 1 heard ot Sta 1 was told U down cou ey’s arrival! 400 good men und et Lim on nis ward journey, volunteered to join the xpedition lor tne Lnun Pasha, and turned- back ugain i the dark continent, tnere to other three years. T when 1 came home, 1 mar- d. { I had a studio in London.” he =aid, | “but I found that the id | there were governed too mucn by 1 Academy, and my princip: fecling was not connected with tig Royal Academy, so 1 feli hampered “Having modeled a head. 1 g without other motive than fri to a friend of mine. Ashton tne American painter, in Paris, With- out telling me, he put it in the Salon, where they gave me a mention at once, the nrst thing I ever nad ca- hibifed, and, as a fact. my first formu work in sculpture. Here, thanks to anjllustrious Amer- ican, son of an illuStrious American, the philosophical-artistic purpose of Herbert Ward, an Englishman, was fixed to_the world’s gain, and ulti- mately. I tnink, to thi i L Coutens tion and bronzes by England. “The thing so encouraged me Herbert Ward, “that 1 cume to Paris to live and start this series of primi- tive types, to preserve them for ik world—for all was slipping away Africa. They had found rubbe France appreciated y_q.»u and exe- cution. His confidence/ grew, and h artistic genius with it. This he saic was the great thing with Franc they look at the thing which have doné, not prejudiced becaus is new, nor at first glance to seek out technical defects, but ask what doc~ this man strive to represent, and doc he represent it? France sees the soul of things. “My object.” for all time, | not an absolute although if you did not know what they werc you would scarcely perceive them. 'You used to go through their country and they knew that yow were coming, how many you had with you and when you would arrive. All telegraphed ahead. ‘Once, to try them, I stood on the edge ke;that was two miles across, and spid: ‘Send word to them to start off a canoe with three men in it.’ It happened. ‘Then, when it was 1,000 yards out: ‘Tell thlm' to go back and take on four more men." Which was done {nstantly. I could see it with my glass. “The edge of a disappearing world,” Le would say. “Here is a fan that be- longed to the wife of the man- who killed Emin. Those were the sandals of -TiBpo-Tib, of 'the pocket compass.” * k% ¥ SUWY- it is true, these stately “bgonxe figures, heroic and .solemn, breathe the dignity of another epoch In his types of the warrior, the fire- maker, the 8ol carver, the witch doc- pe_“of was his waxworks in an anatomical museum but combining two qualit The bronzes mudt have the primiti spirit of Africa in its broad sense, as very dlatory, in such mat- * alaffd, ? of quite 4 saih ¢ ' \ ’ and yet fill the requirements of art in ¢ sculpture. “One man is nojgood,” he said. “One man represents nothing. I want that bronze statue to represent, not one chief, but a hundred chiefs. Whe yau pass five years at the impressior able age from twenty-one to twenty- six among an_unknown people that futerest you deeply such memorie; are bound to dominate your work. T knew these types. “I felt that I must fix them * x ¥ x HE stood before ‘Warrior.” “Warriors in as a “The sculpture, rule,” he said, “have their arms flung out and are full of movement, but 1. who have been present at g deal of fighting. and, alas! a deal of Killing, know that the man who is the most intent on killing some one is, in fact, so intent that he keeps himself ali knitted together, like x modern boxer. This is not one war- rior, but g hundred warriors. “Sculptors and painters, as a rule, he continued. “go through long training. in which they are influenced by classics, and any original feel- ings with which they may be born are, regularly, not stfong enough to stick. because they see how absod lutely perfect all this classic stuft is. So they lose confidence and fol- low In some rut. They do, over again, better or Worse, what has been ne. do“'l‘rlvelerl. on the other hand, are chaps who regularly lack ome gual- jty—they have mno patience.' They are on the go. They pass all kinds, of interesting things, but go lik§ zes, I 'stopped and looked” he g2, “and that is all there is about ftI" - [ ’