mself at the table, he proceeded to examine it
carefully. Turning to the pockets at either end, where cancelled
cheques are usually placed, he found both were empty.

When a few minutes later Sir James and Thompson entered with the
finger-prints, Malcolm Sage was seated at the table smoking, his
gaze concentrated upon the nail of the fourth finger of his right
hand. With him a contemplation of his finger-nails in general
indicated thoughtful attention; when, however, he raised the hand
and began to subject some particular finger-nail to a thorough and
elaborate examination, it generally meant the germination of some
constructive thesis.

Taking the sheets of paper from Thompson, he went through them
rapidly, then drawing a sheet of note-paper from the rack before him
he scribbled a hasty note, enclosed it with one of the fingerprints
in an envelope, which he sealed, addressed, and handed to Thompson
with instructions to see that it was delivered without delay. He
also told him to send Peters and Dane to the library.

Three minutes later Tims swung down the drive, his face beaming. He
was to drive to Scotland Yard and "never mind the poultry on the
road," as Thompson had phrased it.

"Have you the key of the safe, Mr. Dane?" enquired Malcolm Sage as
the young man entered, followed by Peters. Dane shook his head and
looked at Peters.

"Mr. Challoner always wore it on his key-chain, sir," said the
butler.

"Have you any objection to the safe being opened?" enquired Malcolm
Sage to Dane.

"None whatever."

"Then perhaps you will open it?" said Malcolm Sage, turning to Sir
James.

In the safe were found several bundles of letters and
share-certificates, and an old cash-box containing some loose
stamps; but nothing else.

Malcolm Sage 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, discussing the remarkable rise in the
chess-world of Capablanca, whilst Dawkins was busily occupied in a
darkened bath-room.

Dinner proved a far less sombre meal than luncheon. Malcolm Sage and
Sir James between them succeeded in placing young Dane more at his
ease. The haunted, shell-shock look left his eyes, and the twitching
disappeared from the corners of his mouth.

It was nearly nine o'clock when the distant moan of a hooter
announced to Malcolm Sage's alert ears the return of Tims. He rose
from the table and walked slowly to th