r every one had settled down to his or her chosen
amusement--down a long passage, through a private door which he unlocked
with a Yale key, and into the gymnasium. There were less than fifty
spectators seated around the ring, and Francis, glancing at them
hastily, fancied that he recognised nearly every one of them. There was
Baker, a judge, a couple of actors, Lord Meadowson, the most renowned of
sporting peers, and a dozen who followed in his footsteps; a little man
who had once been amateur champion in the bantam class, and who was
now considered the finest judge of boxing in the world; a theatrical
manager, the present amateur boxing champion, and a sprinkling of
others. Sir Timothy and his companions took their chairs amidst a
buzz of welcome. Almost immediately, the man who was in charge of the
proceedings, and whose name was Harrison, rose from his place.

"Gentlemen," he said, "this is a sporting contest, but one under usual
rules and usual conditions. An amateur, who tips the scales at twelve
stone seven, who has never engaged in a boxing contest in his life, is
matched against a young man from a different sphere of life, who intends
to adopt the ring as his profession, but who has never as yet fought in
public. Names, gentlemen, as you know, are seldom mentioned here. I will
only say that the first in the ring is the nominee of our friend and
host, Sir Timothy Brast; second comes the nominee of Lord Meadowson."

Wilmore, notwithstanding his pre-knowledge, gave a little gasp. The
young man who stood now within a few yards of him, carelessly swinging
his gloves in his hand, was without a doubt his missing brother. He
looked well and in the pink of condition; not only well but entirely
confident and at his ease. His opponent, on the other hand, a sturdier
man, a few inches shorter, was nervous and awkward, though none the less
determined-looking. Sir Timothy rose and whispered in Harrison's
ear. The latter nodded. In a very few moments the preliminaries were
concluded, the fight begun.

CHAPTER XXXV

Francis, glad of a moment or two's solitude in which to rearrange his
somewhat distorted sensations, found an empty space in the stern of the
launch and stood leaning over the rail. His pulses were still tingling
with the indubitable excitement of the last half-hour. It was all there,
even now, before his eyes like a cinematograph picture--the duel between
those two men, a duel of knowledge, of strength, o