d I
told him so."

"Who is Hinds?" Malcolm Sage addressed the question to Mr. Callice.

"He used to be Sir John's head gamekeeper----"

"And I discharged him," exploded the general. "I'll shoot a poacher
or his dog; but, dammit! I won't set traps for them," and he puffed
out his cheeks aggressively.

"Hinds used to set traps to save himself the trouble of patrolling
the preserves," explained Mr. Callice, "and one day Sir John
discovered him actually watching the agonies of a dog caught across
the hind-quarters in a man-trap." Again there was the wave of
feeling in the voice, and a stern set about the mouth.

"It's Hinds right enough," cried the general with conviction. "The
man's a brute. Now will you----?"

"I will let you know as soon as possible whether or no I can take up
the enquiry," said Malcolm Sage, rising. "I fear that is the best I
can promise."

"But----" began Sir John; then he stopped and stared at Malcolm Sage
as he moved towards the door.

"Dammit! I don't care what it costs," he spluttered explosively.
"It'll be worth five hundred pounds to the man who catches the
scoundrel. Poor Betty," he added in a softer tone.

"I will write to you shortly," said Malcolm Sage. There was
dismissal in his tone.

With darkened jowl and bristling moustache Sir John strutted towards
the door. Mr. Callice paused to shake hands with Malcolm Sage, and
then followed the general, who, with a final glare at William
Johnson, as he held open the swing-door, passed out into the street,
convinced that now the country was no longer subject to conscription
it would go rapidly to the devil.

For the next half-hour Malcolm Sage pored over a volume of
press-cuttings containing accounts of previous cattle-maimings.

Following his usual custom in such matters, he had caused the
newspaper accounts of the various mutilations to be collected and
pasted in a press-cutting book. Sooner or later he had determined to
devote time to the affair.

Without looking up from the book he pressed three times in rapid
succession a button of the private-telephone. Instantly Gladys
Norman appeared, note-book in hand. She had been heard to remark
that if she were dead "three on the buzzer" would bring her to life
again.

"Whitaker and Inspector Wensdale," said Malcolm Sage, his eyes still
on the book before him.

When deep in a problem Malcolm Sage's economy in words made it
difficult for anyone but his own staff to understand his
req