ng, his amusements and his opinions on war, divorce,
the clergy and kindred subjects, testified to the extraordinary
interest taken by the public in the titanic struggle.

But with regard to Smasher Mike the newspapers were at a loss. _The
Daily Flash_ indeed declared him to be the son of a popular Cabinet
Minister, and triumphantly published photographs of Downing Street, the
Woolsack, the Ladies' Gallery and Black Rod. _The Daily Rocket_, on the
other hand, described him as a herculean docker, discovered and trained
by a syndicate of wealthy Americans, and issued photographs of Tilbury
Station, Plymouth Hoe and the Statue of Liberty in New York harbour. The
fact remained that the identity of the daring challenger was a well-kept
secret.

Mauler Mills was too experienced a pugilist to be perturbed by the
mystery surrounding his adversary. The stakes had been handed in, and
the purse of L20,000, in one pound-notes, had formed a full-page
illustration in _The Trumpet_, with a photo of the Mauler eating
gooseberries inset. Content with this knowledge, he trained faithfully
and well, treated the interviewers with great courtesy, and publicly
announced that Smasher Mike would be knocked out early in the third
round by means of a left hook to the jaw.

The betting on Mauler Mills was a hundred to one.

Young Lord Tamerton was in desperate straits. The estate to which he had
succeeded at the age of ten had been administered during his minority by
a fraudulent executor, who had absconded to South America with his
ill-gotten wealth. Matters had since gone steadily from bad to worse,
and the young peer was now face to face with utter ruin.

An effort had been made to retrieve the family fortunes by the marriage
of his sister, the beautiful Lady Margaret Tamerton, to her cousin, the
wealthy Sir Ernest Scrivener, but the providential discovery that the
latter was already married under the _alias_ of Marmaduke Moorsdyke had
prevented the match. Since then Sir Ernest had been their implacable and
relentless enemy, and his desperate attempt to kidnap Lady Margaret had
only been frustrated by the skill and courage of the famous athlete,
Ralph Wonderson.

Lord Tamerton was seated at a grand piano, playing BACH and moodily
reflecting on these matters, when Ralph Wonderson himself entered the
room, vaulting lightly over piano and performer as he did so.

"What's the matter, Fred?" he asked. "You look blue."

Lord Tamerton dramat