I
ignored the body bait he opened up for me and, instead, I swung in
quickly with my right on to his bruised nose, with all the energy I
could muster. He staggered and reeled like a drunken man. In fact,
had he not been half-besotted by dear-only-knows how many days of
debauchery, it might have gone hard with me, but now he positively
howled with pain.

I had hit on his most vulnerable part, right at the beginning.

Something inside of me chuckled, for, if there was one special place in
any man's anatomy that I always had been able to reach, it was his nose.

Flynn rushed on me again and again. I was lucky indeed in beating back
his onslaughts.

Once, a spent blow got me on the cheek; yet, spent as it was, it made
me numb and dizzy for the moment. Once, he caught me squarely on the
chest right over the wound my brother had given me. The pain of that
was like the cut of a red-hot knife, but it passed quickly. I
staggered and reeled several times, as flashes of weakness seemed to
pass over me. I began to fear that my strength would give out.

I pulled myself together with an effort. Then,
once,--twice,--thrice,--in a succession bewildering to myself, I
smashed that broken nose of Flynn's, sending him sick and wobbling
among his following.

He became maddened with rage. His companions commenced to voice
cautions and instructions. He swore back at them in a muddy torrent of
abuse.

Already, the fight was over;--I could feel it in my bones;--over, far
sooner and more satisfactory to me than I had expected. And, more by
good luck than by ability, I was, to all intents and purposes,
unscathed.

Tommy Flynn could fight. But he was not the fighter he would have been
had he been away from drink and in strict training, as I was. It was
my good fortune to meet him when he was out of condition. He spat out
a mouthful of blood and returned to the conflict, defending his nose
with all the ferocity of a lioness defending her whelps.

"Look out! Take care!" a timely voice whispered on my left.

Something flashed in my opponent's hands in the gaslight. I backed to
the partition. We had a terrible mix-up just then. Blow and
counterblow rained. He broke down my guard once and drove with fierce
force for my face. I ducked, just in time, for he missed me by a mere
hair's-breadth. His fist smashed into a metal bolt in the woodwork.
Sparks flew and there was a loud ring of metal against metal.

"You cowardly