Suddenly the whole affair flared up anew, and Fleet Street once more devoted itself and its columns to the death of Professor James McMurray. A brief announcement that a man of the vagrant class had been arrested in London whilst endeavouring to sell a gold watch believed to be that of Professor McMurray, was the first spark. Later the watch was identified and the man charged with the murder. He protested his innocence, saying that he had picked up the watch by the roadside, just outside Gorling, nearly a month before. There were bloodstains upon his clothes, which he explained by saying he had been fighting with another man who had made his nose bleed. Inspector Carfon, unable to keep a note of triumph out of his voice, had telephoned the news to Malcolm Sage, who had asked for particulars of the man, his pipe, and a specimen of his tobacco; but day after day had passed without these being forthcoming. Finally the man, against whom the police had built up a damaging case, had been committed for trial. Two weeks later he was found guilty at the assizes and sentenced to death. Then it was that Malcolm Sage had written to Inspector Carfon curtly asking him to call at eleven on the following day, bringing with him the information for which he had asked. At the same time he wrote to Sir John Dene and Sir Jasper Chambers. Punctually at eleven on the following morning the inspector called at the Malcolm Sage Bureau. "Sorry, Mr. Sage," he said, as he entered Malcolm Sage's room, "I've been so rushed that I haven't been able to get round," and he dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table. Malcolm Sage pushed across the cigar box. "That's his tobacco-box," said Inspector Carfon, placing on the table a small tin-box. Opening it, and after a swift glance at the contents, Malcolm Sage raised it to his nose: "Cigarette-ends," he remarked without looking up. "And that's his pipe." The inspector laid on the table a black clap pipe, with some two inches of stem attached to the bowl. Malcolm Sage scarcely glanced at it. Pulling out a drawer he produced a small cardboard box, which he opened and pushed towards the inspector. "That is the tobacco smoked by the murderer. The makers are prepared to swear to it." "Where the deuce did you get it?" gasped the inspector. "Grain by grain from the linoleum in the laboratory," replied Malcolm Sage. "That is why it was necessary to be sure it was swept each day. It also helped me to establish the man as middle or upper class. This tobacco is expensive. What is the man like who has been condemned?" "A regular wandering willie," replied the inspector. "Oldish chap, gives his age as sixty-one. Five foot three and a half, thin as a rake, twenty-nine inch chest. Miserable sort of devil. Says he picked up the watch about a quarter of a mile from 'The Hollows' early one morning." "Does he eat marmalade?"