agonists--the refined, almost aesthetic chief of
police on the one hand, the big commanding figure of the redoubtable
colonel on the other.

Boundary with his black hair parted in the centre of his sleek head, his
big weary eyes, his long, yellow walrus moustache, his double chin, his
breadth and girth, his enormous hairy hands, now laid upon the table,
might stand for force, brutal, remorseless, untiring. He stood for
cunning too--the cunning of the stalking tiger.

Stafford was watching him with dispassionate interest. He may have been
secretly amused at the man's sheer daring, but if he was, his
inscrutable face displayed no such emotion.

"I dare say, Mr. King," said the colonel, in his slow, heavy way, "you
think it is rather remarkable in all the circumstances that I should ask
for you? I dare say," he went on, "my business associates will think the
same, considering all the unpleasantness we have had."

Stafford King made no reply. He sat erect, alert and watchful.

"Give a dog a bad name and hang him," said the colonel sententiously.
"For twenty years I've had to fight the unjust suspicions of my enemies.
I've been libelled," he shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't suppose
there's anybody been libelled more than me--and my business associates.
I've had the police nosing--I mean investigating--into my affairs, and
I'll be straight with you, Mr. Stafford King, and tell you that when it
came to my ears and the ears of my business associates, that you had
been put on the job of watching poor old Dan Boundary, I was glad."

"Is that intended as a compliment?" asked Stafford, with the faintest
suspicion of a smile.

"Every way," said the colonel emphatically. "In the first place, Mr.
King, I know that you are the straightest and most honest police
official in England, and possibly in the world. All I want is justice.
My life is an open book, which courts the fullest investigation."

He spread out his huge hands as though inviting an even closer
inspection than had been afforded him hitherto.

Mr. Stafford King made no reply. He knew, very well he knew, the stories
which had been told about the Boundary Gang. He knew a little and
guessed a lot about its extraordinary ramifications. He was well aware,
at any rate, that it was rich, and that this slow-speaking man could
command millions. But he was far from desiring to endorse the colonel's
inferred claim as to the purity of his business methods.

He leant a l