But we also warn him that New York is tired of ring fakes and that nothing but a good mill will justify the prices asked.

I showed the thing to Ballard, who read it through eagerly, his lips emitting a thin whistle.

“Ph-ew!  They’re getting ‘warm,’ Pope.  Somebody’s leaked.”

“But who—?”

“May be the management—­to draw the crowd.”  And then, looking at the front page, “That’s only the twelve o’clock edition.  Perhaps—­”

He paused and rang the bell (we were at his rooms again), instructing his man to go out on the street and buy copies of the latest editions of all the afternoon papers.

“It would be the deuce if they followed that up.”

He walked to and fro while we waited impatiently.  And in a short while our worst fears were realized, for when the papers came we saw the dreadful facts in scare heads on the first page of the yellowest of them.  I give the item here: 

           JEREMIAH BENHAM—­PRIZE FIGHTER. 
    MULTI-MILLIONAIRE SEEKS LAURELS IN RING. 
    FLYNN’S MYSTERIOUS UNKNOWN REVEALED
      IN PERSON OF MILLIONAIRE SPORTSMAN.

Jack Ballard swore softly, but I read on over his shoulder, breathlessly: 

The latest mystery of the prize ring has been revealed by a reporter of the Despatch, who proves here conclusively that the so-called Jim Robinson, matched to fight Sailor Clancy in the big event at the Garden tonight, is no less a person than Jeremiah Benham, son of the late John Benham, Railroad and Steamship King.  Last month it will be recalled that this paper sent a reporter up to Horsham Manor, the magnificent Benham estate in Greene County, where the so-called Jim Robinson was finishing his training at the invitation of Mr. Benham, who was supposed to take a warm sportsman’s interest in the ring.  Horsham Manor, one of the wonders of the State, is surrounded, as is well known, by a wall of solid masonry, and much secrecy was observed in the training of the so-called Robinson, all visitors being denied admittance at the lodge gates.  The reporter, however, managed to gain admittance and reached Mr. Benham’s gymnasium, a palatial affair, fully equipped with all the latest paraphernalia, where the so-called Robinson was boxing with one of his partners.  But a person who represented himself to be Mr. Benham immediately gave orders to have the reporter shown out of the grounds.

The life of the younger Benham has been shrouded in mystery, but this morning after some difficulty the reporter succeeded in finding the photographer who made the picture of Robinson printed herewith, who at last confessed that it was faked.  Further investigation among members of an uptown club revealed the fact that Jeremiah Benham has just passed his twenty-first year and could therefore not be the slender, rather crusty, sandy-haired gentleman impersonating the owner of Horsham Manor, who was at least thirty-five.

“Slender—­rather crusty!” muttered Ballard.  “You!  D—­n the fellow!”