In town he went directly to a certain saloon and stopped at the bar, although he did not order a drink.

“Is the professor in?” he asked.

“I think he is,” replied the barkeeper.

Then Browning passed through into a back room and climbed some dirty stairs, finally rapping at a door.

“Come in!” called a harsh voice.

Bruce pushed open the door and entered.  The room was quite large, but was not very clean.  The walls were pasted over with sporting pictures taken from illustrated papers.  There was a bed, some old chairs, one of which had a broken back, a center table, a cracked mirror, and two cuspidors.  A door opened into another room beyond.

Lounging in a chair, with his feet on the table beside an empty beer bottle and dirty glass, was a ruffianly-looking chap, who had a thick neck that ran straight up with the back of his head.  His hair was close cropped and his forehead low.  There was a bulldog look about his mouth and jaw, and his forehead was strangely narrow.

The man was smoking a black, foul-smelling pipe, while the hands which held a pink-tinted illustrated paper were enormous, with huge knuckles and joints.  His hand when closed looked formidable enough to knock down an ox.

“How do you do, professor?” saluted Bruce.

“Waryer,” growled the man, still keeping his feet on the table.  “So it’s you, is it?  Dis ain’t your day.”

“I know it, but I decided to come around just the same.  I am not getting the flesh off as fast as I ought.”

“Hey?” roared the man, letting his feet fall with a crash.  “Wot’s dat?  D’yer men ter say I ain’t doin’ a good job wid yer?  Wot der blazes!”

“Oh, you are doing all right, professor, but I find I must be in condition sooner than I thought.  My gymnasium exercise doesn’t seem to—­”

“Dat gymnasium work is no good—­see?  I knows wot I’m givin’ yer, too.  I told yer in der first place ter stick ter me, an’ I’d put yer in shape.  It’ll cost more, but—­”

“I don’t mind that.  No matter what it costs, I must be in condition to lick that fellow I was telling you about, and I must be in condition one week from to-day.”

“Dat’s business.  I’ll put yer dere.  An’ yer know wot I told yer—­I’ll show yer a trick dat’ll finish him dead sure ef de mug is gittin’ de best of yer.  It’ll cost yer twenty-five extra ter learn dat trick, but it never fails.”

Browning showed sudden interest.

“I had forgotten about that,” he said.  “What will it do?”

“It’ll do der bloke what ye’re after, dat’s wot.”

“Yes, but how—­how?”

“T’ink I’m goin’ ter give der hull t’ing erway?  Well, I should say nit!  I tells yer it’ll fix him, and it’ll fix him so dere won’t be no more fight in him.  It’ll paralyze him der first t’ing, an’ he won’t be no better dan a stiff.”

“How bad will it hurt him?”

The man paused a moment and then added: