"Ra-_ther_," was the response, "but he got quite ratty. Said he'd stake his professional reputation and all that sort of thing." Malcolm Sage meditatively inclined his head several times in succession; his hand felt mechanically for his fountain-pen. "Then there was another thing that struck me as odd," continued Inspector Carfon, intently examining the end of his cigar. "The professor had evidently been destroying a lot of old correspondence. The paper-basket was full of torn-up letters and envelopes, and the grate was choc-a-bloc with charred paper. That also we kept to ourselves." "That all?" "I think so," was the reply. "There's not the vestige of a clue that I can find." "I see," said Malcolm Sage, looking at a press-cutting lying before him, "that it says there was a remarkable change in the professor's appearance. He seemed to have become rejuvenated." "The doctor said that sometimes 'death smites with a velvet hand.' He was rather a poetic sort of chap," the inspector added by way of explanation. "He saw nothing extraordinary in the circumstance?" "No," was the response. "He seemed to think he was the only one who had ever seen a dead man before. I wouldn't mind betting I've seen as many stiffs as he has, although perhaps he's caused more." Then as Malcolm Sage made no comment, the inspector proceeded. "What I want to know is what was the professor doing while the door was being broken open?" "There were no signs of a struggle?" enquired Malcolm Sage, drawing a cottage upon his thumbnail. "None. He seems to have been attacked unexpectedly from behind." "Was there anything missing?" "We're not absolutely sure. The professor's gold watch can't be found; but the butler is not certain that he had it on him." For some time there was silence. Malcolm Sage appeared to be pondering over the additional facts he had just heard. "What do you want me to do, Mr. Sage?" enquired the inspector at length. "I was wondering whether you would run down with me this afternoon to Gorling." "I'd be delighted," was the hearty response. "Somehow or other I feel it's not an ordinary murder. There's something behind it all." "What makes you think that?" Malcolm Sage looked up sharply. "Frankly, I can't say, Mr. Sage," he confessed a little shamefacedly, "it's just a feeling I have." "The laboratory has been locked up?" "Yes; and I've sealed the door. Nothing has been touched." Malcolm Sage nodded his head approvingly and, for fully five minutes, continued to gaze down at his hands spread out on the table before him. "Thank you, Carfon. Be here at half-past two." "The funeral's to-day, by the way," said the inspector as he rose and, with a genial "good morning," left the room. For the next hour Malcolm Sage was engaged in reading the newspaper accounts of the McMurray Mystery, which he had already caused to be pasted up in the current press-cutting book; he gathered little more from them, however, than he already knew.