he
muzzle against his right temple he turned his eyes momentarily on
Dawkins, who, having anticipated his wishes, had already 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 before
him. Dawkins took another photograph.

"Now," said Malcolm Sage to Sir James. "You shoot me through the
right temple, approaching from behind. Grip my head as if you
expected me to resist."

Sir James did as he was requested, Dawkins making another exposure.

Malcolm Sage motioned Thompson to draw the curtains. Then dropping
on to his knees by the library door, he took the small mirror he had
borrowed from Miss Norman and, placing it partly beneath the door,
carefully examined the reflection by the aid of an electric torch.

When he rose it was with the air of a man who had satisfied himself
upon some important point. He then turned to Sir James.

"You might get those finger-prints," he said casually. "Get everyone
together in the dining-room. See that no one leaves it for at least
a quarter of an hour. Thompson will go with you."

"Then you think it was murder?" questioned Sir James.

"I would sooner say nothing just at the moment," was the reply.

Whilst Sir James Walton and Thompson were occupied with a room-full
of domestics, talking in whispers as if in the presence of death,
Malcolm Sage was engaged in a careful examination of the bottoms of
all the doors in the house by means of a mirror placed upwards
beneath each. He also removed the keys and gave a swift look at the
wards of each.

He moved quickly; yet without haste, as if his brain had entire
control of the situation.

One door in particular appeared to interest him, so much so that he
entered the room and proceeded to examine it with great thoroughness,
taking the utmost care to replace everything as he found it.

From the middle-drawer of the chest-of-drawers, he extracted from
under a pile of clothes a thin steel object, some five or six inches
in length, wound round with a fine, strong twine. This he slipped
into his pocket and, going down into the hall, rang up the manager
of the Lewes branch of the Southern Counties and Brown's Bank.

Passing into the library, he searched the drawers of the table at
which Mr. Challoner had been found. In one of them he discovered the
pass-book. Seating hi