formidable two-fisted fighter.

But Hull was beyond prudence. "I'll go when I get ready, an' I'll come
back when I get ready," he boasted.

There came a soft thud of a hard fist on fat flesh, the crash of a
heavy bulk against the door. After that things moved fast. Hull's
body reacted to the pain of smashing blows falling swift and sure.
Before he knew what had taken place he was on the landing outside on
his way to the stairs. He hit the treads hard and rolled on down.

A man coming upstairs helped him to his feet.

"What's up?" the man asked.

Hull glared at him, for the moment speechless. His eyes were venomous,
his mouth a thin, cruel slit. He pushed the newcomer aside, opened the
door of the apartment opposite, went in, and slammed it after him.

The man who had assisted him to rise was dark and immaculately dressed.

"I judge Uncle James has been exercising," he murmured before he took
the next flight of stairs.

On the door of apartment 12 was a legend in Old English engraved on a
calling card. It said:

James Cunningham

The visitor pushed the electric bell. Cunningham opened to him.

"Good-evening, Uncle," the younger man said. "Your elevator is not
running, so I walked up. On the way I met a man going down. He seemed
rather in a hurry."

"A cheap blackmailer trying to bold me up. I threw him out."

"Thought he looked put out," answered the younger man, smiling
politely. "I see you still believe in applying direct energy to
difficulties."

"I do. That's why I sent for you." The promoter's cold eyes were
inscrutable. "Come in and shut the door."

The young man sauntered in. He glanced at his uncle curiously from his
sparkling black eyes. What the devil did James, Senior, mean by what
he had said? Was there any particular significance in it?

He stroked his small black mustache. "Glad to oblige you any way I
can, sir."

"Sit down."

The young Beau Brummel hung up his hat and cane, sank into the easiest
chair in the room, and selected a cigarette from a gold-initialed case.

"At your service, sir," he said languidly.

CHAPTER II

WILD ROSE TAKES THE DUST

"Wild Rose on Wild Fire," shouted the announcer through a megaphone
trained on the grand stand.

Kirby Lane, who was leaning against the fence chatting with a friend,
turned round and took notice. Most people did when Wild Rose held the
center of the stage.

Through the gateway of the enclosure came