No more. If you knew what I've
gone through you wouldn't dwell on this theme."

Just then a very big man with massive shoulders and chest came in; he
was about forty-five, but he looked pink and swift and fit; and as he
paused at the side of the heavy paunched one, the latter looked
physically shabby in contrast.

"Hello!" Bat Scanlon, trainer, ex-wrestling champion, and border
character, greeted Ashton-Kirk with a pleased look. "Glad to see you.
Come in to dust off the mat with me?"

"I think I will take a turn," replied the criminologist, as he yawned,
with widely stretched arms. "I've been going a bit stale lately."

Scanlon turned his glance upon the other man.

"How are you, Mr. Dennison?" he said. "Back once more, eh?"

"Believe me, it's not because I want to," returned Dennison, huskily.
"It's because I have to. I'm not right, Scanlon; I can't stand anything
out of the ordinary. Just a little extra tax on me, and I'm done."

Bat surveyed him, valuingly.

"No wonder," said he. "You've got a belt of felt about your waist that
only a champion could wear. You must have kept your feet under the table
many and many a bitter hour to win it."

"Now, confound it," said the pudgy one, exasperated, "I don't eat so
much."

"Maybe not." Scanlon looked his disbelief. "But the pangs of hunger and
you are not very intimate. Your most active moments are spent in a
limousine or a club window." He winked humorously at Ashton-Kirk. "I'll
say nothing against the limousine; it's a fine invention; but legs were
made to walk on. And if you think the club window thing will ever reduce
the size of your collar, you're bound to be a disappointed man."

"But I ride every day in the park," said Dennison, "and I go to the
country club three times a week for my golf."

"Riding is a grand exercise--for the horse," commented the athlete. "And
the people who get the most out of a golf course are paid for what they
do."

"Well, a fellow's social life must be seen to," said the defective one,
a fat white hand stroking an equally fat, but blue, jowl. "He's got to
have a bit to eat and drink, and a trifle of leisure to look things
over."

A telephone bell rang in another room, and a squeaky voice was heard
answering the call.

"If you care to come in every day and work, all right," said Scanlon,
carelessly, for he understood the case perfectly. "But the eating and
drinking must scale down to what I think is right."

Dennison appe