"We have just been looking at the laboratory," said the inspector. "Ah!" Sir Jasper nodded his head several times. "The laboratory!" "Will you oblige me with your pouch, Carfon," said Malcolm Sage, drawing his pipe from his pocket. "I've lost mine." Inspector Carfon thrust his hand into his left-hand pocket, then began to go hurriedly through his other pockets with the air of a man who has lost something. "I had it a quarter of an hour ago," he said. "I must have dropped it in the----" "Allow me, sir," said Sir Jasper, extending to Malcolm Sage his own pouch, which he had extracted from his tail-pocket, whilst the inspector was still engaged in his search. Malcolm Sage took it and with a nod proceeded to fill his pipe. "Looks like Craven Mixture," he remarked without looking up from the pipe which he was cramming from Sir Jasper's pouch. Malcolm Sage was an epicure in tobacco. "No; it's Ormonde Mixture," was the reply. "I always smoke it. It is singularly mellow," he added, "singularly mellow." He continued to look straight in front of him, whilst the inspector appeared anxious to get on to the house. Having completed his task, Malcolm Sage folded the tobacco-pouch and handed it back to Sir Jasper. "Thank you," he said, and proceeded to light his pipe. Apparently seeing nothing to detain him further, Sir Jasper lifted his hat, bowed and passed on. "Regular old cure, isn't he?" remarked the inspector as they watched the ungainly figure disappear round the bend of the drive. "A great man, Carfon," murmured Malcolm Sage, "a very great man," and he turned and walked towards the house. The front door of "The Hollows" was opened by the butler, a gentle-faced old man, in appearance rather like a mid-Victorian lawyer. At the sight of the inspector, a troubled look came into his eyes. "I want to have a few words with you," said Malcolm Sage quietly. The old man led the way to the library. Throwing open the door for them to pass in, he followed and closed it behind him. Malcolm Sage seated himself at the table and Inspector Carfon also dropped into a chair. The butler stood, his hands half-closed before him, the palm of one resting upon the knuckles of the other. His whole attitude was half-nervous, half-fearful, and wholly deprecating. "I'm afraid this has been a great shock to you," said Malcolm Sage. Inspector Carfon glanced across at him. There was an unaccustomed note of gentleness in his tone. "It has indeed, sir," said the butler, and two tears gathered upon his lower lids, hung pendulous for a second, then raced one another down either side of his nose. It was the first sympathetic word the old man had heard since the police had arrived, insatiable for facts. "Sit down," said Malcolm Sage, without looking up, "I shall not keep you many minutes." His tone was that one might adopt to a child. The old man obeyed, seating himself upon the edge of the chair, one hand still placed upon the other.