The Tragedy of the Peasant's Revenge
"Bearded peasant?" I echoed blankly. "What the deuce is that. Some curio my Berlin agent has sent me on approval? Do you know anything about it, Wilkins?"
"Yes, sir," he replied. "Don't you recall Steinbach's sending you word that he had found a peasant near Hanover with a beard six feet four and a half inches long, which he braided and wore in three half-hitches around his neck? You wanted to add him to your collection, sir, and we were on the point of starting for Germany to look him over when you ran afoul of your musical vibration theory and chucked everything else in the discard."
Then I remembered the bearded peasant. I had cabled Steinbach to ship him to me and to ask Lloyds to insure his whiskers for the voyage. But I had no time to bother with my collections now, for the concert was only two days away. I asked Wilkins to run down to New York and fetch the trophy home and find quarters for him. In another week I could study and photograph him at my leisure. Then I dismissed this rare importation from
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