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The Gilston Slander by Herbert Jenkins.

So lie down, close your eyes, and let me read you a story.

It's all very well for the chief to sit in there like a five-guinea palmist,

Glad as Norman cried one morning.

As after interviewing the umpteenth caller that day,

she proceeded vigorously to powder her nose to the obvious interest of William Johnson.

But what about me? If anyone else comes, I must speak the truth. I haven't an unused lie left. Then you had better let Johnson

have a turn, said a quiet voice behind her. She span round with flaming cheeks and white-flecked nose to see the steel-grey eyes

of Malcolm Sage gazing on her quizzically through gold-rimmed spectacles. There was only the

slightest fluttering at the corners of his mouth. As his activities enlarged, Malcolm Sage's fame had increased, and he was overwhelmed with requests for assistance. Clients bore down upon him from all parts of the country, some even crossing the channel, whilst from America and the colonies came a flood of letters giving long, rambling details of mysteries,

murders and disappearances, all of which he was expected to solve.

Those who wrote, however, were as nothing to those who called. They arrived in various stages

of excitement and agitation, only to be met by Miss Gladys Norman with a stereotyped smile and the equally

stereotyped information that Mr. Malcolm Sage saw no one except by appointment, which was never made

until the nature of the would-be client's business had been stated in writing.

The Surrey cattle maiming affair, and the consequent publicity it gave to the name of Malcolm

...