I heard you. Wasn't it him?" he cried,
appealing to the company in general.

"Sounded precious like his voice," said one of the fellows, who, as I
had scarcely opened my mouth the whole evening, must have had a rather
vivid imagination.

"Yes, I know it was you. I knew it all along," said Whipcord, shifting
his straw from side to side of his mouth, and glaring at me, half-
stupidly, half-ferociously.

"It wasn't, indeed," said I, feeling very uncomfortable. "I never said
a word."

Whipcord laughed as he let go my throat and began to take off his coat.
I watched him in amazement. Surely he was not going to make me fight!
I looked round beseechingly on the company, but could get no comfort out
of their laughter and merriment.

Whipcord divested himself of his coat, then of his waistcoat, then he
took off his necktie and collar, then he let down his braces and tied
his handkerchief round his waist in the manner of a belt, and finally
proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves above the elbows.

"Now then," said he, advancing towards me in a boxing attitude, "I'll
teach you to call me a thief!"

I was so utterly taken aback by all this, that I could scarcely believe
I was not dreaming.

"I really didn't call you a thief," I said.

"You mean to say you won't fight?" cried my adversary, sparring up at
me.

"Hold hard!" cried Daly, before I could answer. "Of course he's going
to fight; but give him time to peel, man. Look alive, Batchelor, off
with your coat."

"I'm not going to fight, indeed," said I, in utter bewilderment.

"Yes you are," said Flanagan, "and it won't be your first go in either,
old man. I'll back you!"

One or two of the fellows pulled off my coat--my poor seedy coat. I
remember even then feeling ashamed of the worn flannel shirt, out at
elbows, that was below it, and which I had little expected any one that
evening to see.

"Will you have your waistcoat off?" said Daly.

"No," replied I.

"Better," said Flanagan, "and your collar too."

This was awful! My collar was a paper one, and pinned on to the shirt
in two places!

"No!" I cried, in desperation at these officious offers; "let me alone,
please."

"Oh, all serene! But he's got the pull of you."

Perhaps if I had had a clean linen shirt on, with studs down the front,
I might have been more tractable in the matter of peeling.

It had by this time gradually dawned on me that I was in for a fight,
and that there was no g