th gravity and concern.

If some ill-advised optimist ventured to question a particularly
lugubrious statement, he was challenged to explain the betting,
which had crept up to six to one on Jefferson offered, with no
takers.

The arrival of the Prince of Wales gave a welcome vent for pent-up
excitement. Accustomed as he was to enthusiastic acclamation, the
Prince seemed a little embarrassed by the warmth and intensity of
his greeting.

The preliminary bouts ran their course, of interest only to those
immediately concerned, who were more truly alone in the midst of
that vast concourse than some anchorite in the desert of Sahara.

The heat was unbearable, the atmosphere suffocating. Men smoked
their cigars and cigarettes jerkily, now indulging in a series of
staccatoed puffs, now ignoring them until they went out.

Slowly the time crept on as by the bedside of death. If those
ridiculously bobbing figures in the ring would only cease their
caperings!

"Break! Break!" The voice of the referee suddenly split through a
"pocket" of silence. Everyone seemed startled, then the curtain of
sound once more descended and wrapped the assembly in its
impenetrable folds. The gong sounded the beginning and the end of
each round, and so it went on.

Mr. Papwith sat in the front row near the Prince. Smiling, smiling,
for ever smiling. He was a dapper little man, with a fiery,
clean-shaven face, and a fringe of grizzled hair above his ears that
gave the lie to the auburn silkiness with which his head was crowned.
Next to him was Mr. Doulton, who chatted and smiled, smiled and
chatted; but his eyes moved restlessly over the basin of faces, as
if in search of an answer to some unuttered question.

At length the preliminary bouts were ended. As the combatants had
arrived unheralded, so they departed unsung. Although no one
appeared to be watching, a sudden hush fell over the assembly. The
dramatic moment had arrived. A few minutes would see the rumours
confirmed or disproved. Men, seasoned spectators of a hundred fights,
found the tension almost unbearable.

The M.C. climbed through the ropes and looked fussily about him. He
appealed to the spectators for silence during the actual rounds and
for the discontinuance of smoking. A black cardboard box, sealed as
if it contained duelling-pistols instead of gloves, was thrust into
the ring. Men took a last fond draw at their cigars and cigarettes
before mechanically extinguishing them.