cis stepped across the deck towards where Lady Cynthia had been
sitting by her host's side. They had passed into the mouth of a
tree-hung strip of the river. The engine was suddenly shut off. A gong
was sounded. There was a murmur, almost a sob of relief, as the little
sprinkling of men and women rose hastily to their feet and made their
way towards the companion-way. Downstairs, in the saloon, with its white
satinwood panels and rows of swing chairs, heavy curtains were drawn
across the portholes, all outside light was shut out from the place. At
the further end, raised slightly from the floor, was a sanded circle.
Sir Timothy made his way to one of the pillars by its side and turned
around to face the little company of his guests. His voice, though it
seemed scarcely raised above a whisper, was extraordinarily clear and
distinct. Even Francis, who, with Lady Cynthia, had found seats only
just inside the door, could hear every word he said.

"My friends," he began, "you have often before been my guests at such
small fights as we have been able to arrange in as unorthodox a manner
as possible between professional boxers. There has been some novelty
about them, but on the last occasion I think it was generally
observed that they had become a little too professional, a little
ultra-scientific. There was something which they lacked. With that
something I am hoping to provide you to-night. Thank you, Sir Edgar," he
murmured, leaning down towards his neighbour.

He held his cigarette in the flame of a match which the other had
kindled. Francis, who was watching intently, was puzzled at the
expression with which for a moment, as he straightened himself, Sir
Timothy glanced down the room, seeking for Lady Cynthia's eyes. In
a sense it was as though he were seeking for something he
needed--approbation, sympathy, understanding.

"Our hobby, as you know, has been reality," he continued. "That is what
we have not always been able to achieve. Tonight I offer you reality.
There are two men here, one an East End coster, the other an Italian
until lately associated with an itinerant vehicle of musical production.
These two men have not outlived sensation as I fancy so many of us
have. They hate one another to the death. I forget their surnames,
but Guiseppe has stolen Jim's girl, is living with her at the present
moment, and proposes to keep her. Jim has sworn to have the lives of
both of them. Jim's career, in its way, is interesti