is pupils are with him at
present, sir."

"Will you be kind enough to see?" asked Ditson. "This is a personal
matter--something I want kept quiet."

The barkeeper disappeared into a back room, was gone a few minutes, and
then returned and said:

"The professor is quite alone. Will you go up, sir?"

"Y-e-s," said Roll, glancing around, and then motioning for the
barkeeper to lead the way.

He was taken into a back room and shown a flight of stairs.

"Knock at the door at the head of the flight," instructed the barkeeper,
and after giving the man some money Ditson went up the stairs.

"Come in!" called a harsh voice when he knocked at the door.

Ditson found Kelley sitting with his feet on a table, while he smoked a
strong-smelling cigar. There were illustrated sporting papers on the
table, crumpled and ragged.

"Well, young feller, watcher want?" demanded the man, withont removing
his feet from the table or his hat from his head.

Ditson closed the door. He was very pale and somewhat agitated.

"Are we all alone?" he asked, choking a bit over the question.

"Dat's wot we are," nodded the professor.

"Is it a sure thing that our conversation cannot be overheard?"

"Dead sure."

Ditson hesitated. He seemed to find it difficult to express himself just
as he desired.

"Speak right out, chummy," said Kelley in a manner intended to be
reassuring. "I rudder t'inks yer wants ter lick some cove, an' yer've
come ter me ter put yer in shape ter do der job. Well, you bet yer dough
I'm der man ter do dat. How many lessons will yer have?"

"It is not that at all," declared Roll.

"Not dat?" cried Kelley in surprise. "Den wot do youse want?"

"Well, you see, it is like this--er, like this," faltered Roland.
"I--I've got an enemy."

"Well, ain't dat wot I said?"

"But I don't want to fight him."

"Oh, I sees! Yer wants some odder chap ter do de trick?"

"Yes, that is it. But I want them to more than lick him."

"More dan lick him? W'y, yer don't want him killed, does yer?"

"No," answered Ditson, hoarsely; "but I want his right arm broken."

"Hey?"

Down came Buster Kelley's feet from the table, upon which his knuckles
fell, and then he arose from the chair, standing in a crouching
position, with his hands resting on the table, across which he glared at
Roland Ditson.

"Hey?" he squawked. "Just say dat ag'in, cully."

Roll was startled, and looked as if he longed to take to his heels and
get away as