t of the picador. Domineering and ever dominant, he
had been accustomed throughout his life to impose his will upon others.
Shrewd and capable in his chosen business, successful in the limited
area of his activities, he had come perilously close to believing
himself omnipotent, not only in all that pertained to his own destiny,
but in the destinies of those about him. Never until the last few
weeks had either men or events dared to march contrary to his wish,
whereas now they appeared to have entered deliberately into a
conspiracy to defy their master and defeat his plans.

Well--conspiracies can be crushed! His jaw set, his thin lips
tightened and his powerful hands clenched until the nails on his stubby
fingers sank deep into the flesh of his palms. Let 'em match their
wits and their wills against his--he would show 'em!

He was so rapt in thought that he did not hear a heavy step in the
outer office and was unaware that he had a visitor until a voice spoke
respectfully from the threshold of his room.

"Mr. Varr--Nelson said you wished to see me."

The tanner started and turned from the window. "Oh--it's you,
Steiner." He walked to his desk and seated himself solidly in his
swivel chair. "Come in."

The Chief of Police--Chief by virtue of two subordinate
constables--obeyed a command, rather than accepted an invitation. He
was a tall man, slender of build but wiry, a little past middle-age,
with hair beginning to gray at the temples, pale blue eyes and lantern
jaws. As a policeman he was a singularly unconvincing figure, yet he
had served creditably enough for five years in the peaceful village of
Hambleton, where an occasional speeding motorist or some native exalted
by too much home-brew constituted the whole criminal calendar for a
year. A quiet job for a quiet man.

Varr did not offer him a chair, so he stood patiently waiting, twirling
in his hands the uniform cap that he had removed in deference to his
surroundings.

"Last night," began the tanner abruptly, "some one trespassed on my
property and committed material damage--or to put it more plainly, some
one entered my kitchen garden, picked a considerable quantity of my
best tomatoes, helped himself to a couple of dozen ears of sweet corn,
and incidentally trampled down and destroyed quite a number of plants
in the process. I strongly suspect that he did the last intentionally,
out of pure malice."

"Why, sir, that's a singular thing to have