17 - Malcolm Sage, Detective by Herbert George Jenkins

Delve into the intriguing world of Malcolm Sage as this collection of short stories unravels his first year at the helm of his own Detective Bureau. This captivating series serves as a sequel or companion piece to the gripping tale of John Dene of Toronto.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter seventeen of Malcolm Sage Detective by Herbert George Jenkins.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by
Anno Simon, Chapter seventeen, Lady Dean calls on Malcolm's Age.
Lady Deane wished to see you, Miss, Sure the Archbishop
of Canterbury isn't with her? Johnny, dear, asked Gladys Norman sweetly,

(00:23):
without looking up from the cleaning of her typewriter. In
her own mind, she was satisfied that this was a
little joke inspired by Thompson. No, Miss, she is alone,
replied the literal. William Johnson show her lidyship in, she said,
still playing for safety, dash she muttered, as having inadvertedly

(00:44):
touched the release, the carriage slid to the left, pinching
her finger in its course. William Johnson departed, his head
half turned over his right shoulder in admiration of one
who could hear with such unconcern that a real lady
had called to see her. As at door were opened
for a second time, Gladys Norman assiduously kept her eyes
fixed upon her machine. No, Johnny, she remarked, still without

(01:08):
looking up. It's no good, Lady Dean's don't call upon typists.
At nine thirty a m so buzz off, little beanlet.
I'm but this, Lady Dean does. Gladys Norman jumped to
her feet, knocking over the benzene bottle and dropping her
brush into the vitals of the machine. Before her stood
a fair haired girl, her violet eyes brimming with mischievous laughter,

(01:32):
whilst in her arms she carried a mass of red roses.
I'm so sorry, folded Gladys Norman, biting her lower lip
and conscious of her heightened collar and the violet stained
gloves that had once been white. I thought Johnny was
playing a joke. Lady Dean nodded brightly while Gladys Norman
stooped to pick up the benzene bottle, then, with a

(01:53):
motion of her head, indicated to William Johnson that his
presence was no longer required. Reluctantly, the la turned, and
a moment later the door closed slowly behind him. I
want you to help me, said Lady Deane, dropping the
roses on to the leaf of Gladys Norman's typing table.
These are for missus sage for the chief, cried Gladys

(02:15):
Norman in astonishment. Then she laughed. The idea of a
riot of red roses in Malcolm Sage's room struck her
as funny. You see, said Lady Deane. This is the
birthday of the Malcolm Sage Bureau, and I'm going to
decorate his room. I don't, began gladys Norman hesitatingly, when
Lady Dean interrupted her. It's all right, she cried, I'll

(02:39):
take all the responsibility, but we've got no vases, objected
gladys Norman. My chauffeur has some in the car, and
there are heaps more roses, she added, More, cried gladys Norman.
Aghast heaps, repeated Lady Deane, dimpling with laughter at the
consternation on gladys Norman's face. Ah, here they are. As

(03:02):
the door opened and a mass of white roses appeared,
with a florid face peering over the top. Put them
down there, smitzen, said Lady Dean, indicating a spot in
front of gladys Norman's table. Now fetch the vases and
the rest of the roses. The rest, exclaimed gladys Norman.
Lady Dean laughed. She was thoroughly enjoying the girl's bewilderment.

(03:25):
He's not come yet, she interrogated. The girl shook her head.
He won't be here for half an hour yet, she said,
he had to go down into the city. That will
just give us time, cried Lady Dean, stooping and picking
up an armful of the white roses. You bring the
red ones, she cried over her shoulder as she passed
through Malkhamsage's door, just as Smithson entered with several purple vases,

(03:49):
picking up the red roses. Gladys Norman followed the others
into magham Sage's room. Her feelings were those of some
one constrained to commit sacrilege against her. Will now get some, Smithson, Walter,
my lady, repeated Smithson, looking about him vaguely, as Moses
might have done in the wilderness. Yes, ask the lad

(04:10):
be quick, cried Lady Dean, with deft fingers, beginning to
arrange the roses in the vases. Oh please help me,
she cried, turning to Gladys Norman, who stood watching her
as if fascinated. But she began when Liddy Dean interrupted her.
Quick cried Lady Dean, excitedly or he'll be here before
we've finished. Then, convinced that it was the work of

(04:33):
kiss Mat or the devil, gladys Norman threw herself into
the task of arranging the flowers. When Thomson arrived some
ten minutes later, he stood at the door of Malconsiede's room,
listening with his mouth as gladys Norman expressed it. When
it regained the power of speech, he uttered two words,
jumping Jehoshaphat, but into them he precipitated all the emotion

(04:55):
of his being. Go away, Tommy, we're busy, cried gladys
Nay over her shoulder. Do you hear go away? She repeated,
stamping her foot angrily as he made no movement to obey,
and Thomson slid away and closed the door. Convinced that
in the course of the next half hour there would
be the very deuce to pay. He knew the chief
better than Gladys He told himself that if there were

(05:17):
one thing calculated to bring out all the sterness in
his nature, it was flippancy. And what could be more
flippant than decorating the room of a great detective with
huge bowls and vases of red and white roses, regardless
of Thomson's forebodings. Lady Deane smiled to herself as she
put the finishing touches to the last vase, whilst Gladys

(05:38):
Norman gathered up the litter of leaves and stalks that
lay on the floor, throwing them into the fireplace. She
then removed the last spots of water from Malcamsage's table.
Lady Dean took from her bag a small leather case,
which she opened and placed in the center of the table,
opposite malcam Sage's chair. It was a platinum ring of

(05:59):
antique why workmanship with a carbution of Lapis Lazare. Oh
how lovely, cried Gladys Norman as she gazed at the
rings exquisite workmanship. Presently, the two girls stepped back to
gaze at their handiwork. In a few minutes, they had
transformed an austere business man's room into what looked like
a miniature rose show. From every point, red and white

(06:22):
roses seemed to nod their fragrant heads, I began Gladys Norman.
Then she stopped, suddenly arrested by a slight sound behind her,
She spun round on our heel now comseige stood in
the doorway, with Thompson and William Johnson a few feet
behind him. Slowly and deliberately, he looked round the room.

(06:42):
Then his eyes rested on Lady Dean. How do you do,
Lady Dean, he said, quietly, extending his hand. For a moment,
she was conscious of an unaccustomed sensation of fear. You
are not cross, she interrogated, looking up at him quizzically,
her head a little on one side. You see, it's
the bureau's birthday, and she stopped. Suddenly, Malcolm Sage had

(07:07):
dropped her hand and walked over to his table. Picking
up the ring. He examined it intently, then turned to
Lady Deane, interrogation in his eyes. It's from my husband
and me, she said, simply, you've such lovely hands and
and we should like you to wear it. Without a word,
he removed the ring from the case and put it

(07:27):
on the third finger of his right hand, which he
then extended to Lady Dean, who took it with a
little laugh of happiness. You're not really cross, she said,
looking up at him a little anxiously. To me, they
stand for so much, Lady Dean, he said gravely that
I am not even speculating as to their probable effect
upon the faith of my clients. And Malcolm's Age smiled.

(07:52):
It was that smile glad as Norman's soul as she
closed the door behind her, and which Thomson resolutely refused
to believe. End of Chapter seventeen. End of Malcolm Sage,
Detective by Herbert George Jenkins, recorded by Anno Simon in
two thousand ten.