n among the jobbers. But the few
he had not called upon the day previous, appeared even less interested
in his proposition. As he came out of the Pacific's establishment, he
brushed against a heavy-set man with gray hair, who was just going in.
Excusing himself for his awkwardness, he glanced at the stranger's face.
It was Silvanus Rock, of Legonia.

Gregory passed on. Rock apparently had not recognized him. Yet surely he
was not mistaken in the man's identity. The flabby face with its sagging
folds of pink skin, the snake-like eyes and the long Roman nose could
not have been the inheritance of any other than the magnate of Legonia.
And yet, what business could Rock have with the jobbers? Gregory
wondered as he walked up-town to get a box of candy for Aunt Mary and
Dickie Lang. While he made his purchase, his mind was filled with his
meeting with Rock. In some vague way he began to associate Rock's
presence in the jobbing district with the failure of the dealers to
become interested in his solicitation. When he reached the office of
Winfield & Camby at four o'clock, the matter still filled his mind.

"Mr. Hawkins just stepped out," Mr. Dupont informed him. Then the
manager cleared his throat and beckoned Gregory to his private office.
"It sometimes happens," he began, when the door closed, "that we are
forced to change our plans, owing to an unexpected event. Since you were
here this morning, I feel that what has happened in the interim,
warrants us in our decision. In view of that, I wish to say that for the
present at least, we will not send Mr. Dalton to visit your cannery."

"Why not?"

Mr. Dupont shoved an evening _Times_ across his desk and pointed to a
marked item that appeared therein.

"That will explain for itself," he said.

Gregory read:

RIOT AMONG THE FISHERMEN AT LEGONIA

This afternoon when the foreign fishermen were peaceably
engaged with their seine, they were brutally attacked by
a number of ex-soldiers and sailors employed by the
Legonia Fish Cannery, and driven from the beach.

Gregory read no further.

"It's a lie, Mr. Dupont," he said hotly. "My men do not pick fights. A
few nights ago the alien fishermen endeavored to crowd them off the
beach and they----"

Mr. Dupont interrupted with a peremptory wave of his hand.

"You may be right," he said. "But I'm not interested. Whatever the
merits of the case are, the fact remains that you are mixed up in a
lab