lity.
Somehow, after all these years, he was transformed before her very
eyes; she was looking upon a new personality. He was no longer
Montgomery, the brother, but she could not explain how and when the
change crept over her. What did it all mean? "I am very glad if it will
make you happy, Monty," she said slowly, the gray in her lips giving
way to red once more. "Does she know?"

"I haven't told her in so many words, Peggy, but--but I'm going to this
evening," he announced, lamely.

"This evening?"

"I can't wait," Monty said as he rose to go. "I'm glad you're pleased,
Peggy; I need your good wishes. And, Peggy," he continued, with a touch
of boyish wistfulness, "do you think there's a chance for a fellow?
I've had the very deuce of a time over that Englishman."

It was not quite easy for her to say, "Monty, you are the best in the
world. Go in and win."

From the window she watched him swing off down the street, wondering if
he would turn to wave his hand to her, his custom for years. But the
broad back was straight and uncompromising. His long strides carried
him swiftly out of sight, but it was many minutes before she turned her
eyes, which were smarting a little, from the point where he was lost in
the crowd. The room looked ashen to her as she brought her mind back to
it, and somehow things had grown difficult.

When Montgomery reached home he found this telegram from Mr. Jones:

MONTGOMERY BREWSTER,

New York City.

Stick to your knitting, you damned fool.

S. JONES.

CHAPTER IX

LOVE AND A PRIZE-FIGHT

It is best not to repeat the expressions Brewster used regarding one S.
Jones, after reading his telegram. But he felt considerably relieved
after he had uttered them. He fell to reading accounts of the big
prize-fight which was to take place in San Francisco that evening. He
revelled in the descriptions of "upper cuts" and "left hooks," and
learned incidentally that the affair was to be quite one-sided. A local
amateur was to box a champion. Quick to see an opportunity, and
cajoling himself into the belief that Swearengen Jones could not object
to such a display of sportsmanship, Brewster made Harrison book several
good wagers on the result. He intimated that he had reason to believe
that the favorite would lose. Harrison soon placed three thousand
dollars on his man. The young financier felt so sure of the result that
he entered the bets on the profit side of his ledger the moment he