Malcolm Sage rose with the air of one who has concluded the business on hand.
"Can I run you back to town, Carfon?" he asked, as he walked towards the door.
"No, thank you," said the inspector. "I must go over to Strinton and see Brewitt. He's following up a clue he's got. Some tramp who was seen hanging about here for a couple of days just before the murder," he added.
"Unless he is tall and powerful, left-handed, with something more than a layman's knowledge of surgery, you had better not trouble about him," said Malcolm Sage quietly. "You might also note that the murderer belongs to the upper, or middle class, has an iron nerve, and is strongly humanitarian."
For a moment Inspector Carfon stared at Malcolm Sage with lengthened jaw. Then suddenly he laughed, a laugh of obvious relief.
"At first I thought you were serious, Mr. Sage," he said, "till I saw what you were up to. It's just like the story-book detectives," and he laughed again, this time more convincingly.
Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders. "Let me have a description of the man when you get him," he said, "and some of the tobacco he smokes. Try him with marmalade, Carfon, and plenty of it. By the way, you make a great mistake in not reading The Present Century," he added. "It can be curiously instructive," and without another word he crossed the hall and, a moment later, entered his car.
"Swank!" murmured Inspector Carfon angrily, as he watched Tims swing the car down the drive at a dangerous rate of speed, "pure, unadulterated, brain-rotting swank," and he in turn passed down the drive, determined to let Malcolm Sage see what he could do "on his own."
II
Three weeks passed and there was no development in the McMurray Mystery. Malcolm Sage had heard nothing from Inspector Carfon, who was busily engaged in an endeavour to trace the tramp seen in the neighbourhood of "The Hollows" on the day previous to the murder.