“Both men came up fresh and eager to mix things, though it seems only too probable that they had already been mixing more things than was good for them.  Battling Percy tried a right swing which got home on a waiter.  Cyclone Jim put in a rapid one-two punch which opened a large gash in the atmosphere.  Both men sparred cautiously, being hampered in their movements by the fact, which neither had at this stage of the proceedings perceived, that they were on opposite sides of the disputed table.  A clever Fitzsimmons’ shift on the part of the Battler removed this obstacle, and some brisk work ensued in neutral territory.  Percy landed twice without a return.  The Battler’s round by a shade.

“ROUND TWO

“The Cyclone came out of his corner with a rush, getting home on the Battler’s shirt-front and following it up with a right to the chin.  Percy swung wildly and upset a bottle of champagne on a neighbouring table.  A good rally followed, both men doing impressive in-fighting.  The Cyclone landed three without a return.  The Cyclone’s round.

“ROUND THREE

“Percy came up weak, seeming to be overtrained.  The Cyclone waded in, using both hands effectively.  The Battler fell into a clinch, but the Cyclone broke away and, measuring his distance, picked up a haymaker from the floor and put it over.  Percy down and out.

“Interviewed by our representative after the fight, Cyclone Jim said:  ’The issue was never in doubt.  I was handicapped at the outset by the fact that I was under the impression that I was fighting three twin-brothers, and I missed several opportunities of putting over the winning wallop by attacking the outside ones.  It was only in the second round that I decided to concentrate my assault on the one in the middle, when the affair speedily came to a conclusion.  I shall not adopt pugilism as a profession.  The prizes are attractive, but it is too much like work.’”

Bayliss ceased, and silence fell upon the room.

“Is that all?”

“That is all, sir.”

“And about enough.”

“Very true, sir.”

“You know, Bayliss,” said Jimmy thoughtfully, rolling over on the couch, “life is peculiar, not to say odd.  You never know what is waiting for you round the corner.  You start the day with the fairest prospects, and before nightfall everything is as rocky and ding-basted as stig tossed full of doodlegammon.  Why is this, Bayliss?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“Look at me.  I go out to spend a happy evening, meaning no harm to any one, and I come back all blue with the blood of the aristocracy.  We now come to a serious point.  Do you think my lady stepmother has read that sporting chronicle?”

“I fancy not, Mr. James.”

“On what do you base these words of comfort?”

“Mrs. Crocker does not read the halfpenny papers, sir.”

“True!  She does not.  I had forgotten.  On the other hand the probability that she will learn about the little incident from other sources is great.  I think the merest prudence suggests that I keep out of the way for the time being, lest I be fallen upon and questioned.  I am not equal to being questioned this morning.  I have a headache which starts at the soles of my feet and gets worse all the way up.  Where is my stepmother?”