Barton led him across, the overcoat dangling loosely from his
shoulders, and he sat down on a wooden stool. Barton and another man,
both wearing white sweaters, stood beside him. The so-called ring was a
square, twenty feet each way. At the opposite angle was the sinister
figure of the Master, with his red-headed woman and a rough-faced friend
to look after him. At each corner were metal basins, pitchers of water,
and sponges.

During the hubbub and uproar of the entrance Montgomery was too
bewildered to take things in. But now there was a few minutes' delay,
for the referee had lingered behind, and so he looked quietly about him.
It was a sight to haunt him for a lifetime. Wooden seats had been built
in, sloping upwards to the tops of the walls. Above, instead of a
ceiling, a great flight of crows passed slowly across a square of grey
cloud. Right up to the topmost benches the folk were banked--broadcloth
in front, corduroys and fustian behind; faces turned everywhere upon
him. The grey reek of the pipes filled the building, and the air was
pungent with the acrid smell of cheap, strong tobacco. Everywhere among
the human faces were to be seen the heads of the dogs. They growled and
yapped from the back benches. In that dense mass of humanity, one could
hardly pick out individuals, but Montgomery's eyes caught the brazen
gleam of the helmets held upon the knees of the ten yeomen of his
escort. At the very edge of the platform sat the reporters, five of
them--three locals and two all the way from London. But where was the
all-important referee? There was no sign of him, unless he were in the
centre of that angry swirl of men near the door.

Mr. Stapleton had stopped to examine the gloves which wore to be used,
and entered the building after the combatants. He had started to come
down that narrow lane with the human walls which led to the ring.
But already it had gone abroad that the Wilson champion was a gentleman,
and that another gentleman had been appointed as referee. A wave of
suspicion passed through the Croxley folk. They would have one of their
own people for a referee. They would not have a stranger. His path was
stopped as he made for the ring. Excited men flung themselves in front
of him; they waved their fists in his face and cursed him. A woman
howled vile names in his ear. Somebody struck at him with an umbrella.
"Go thou back to Lunnon. We want noan o' thee. Go thou back!" they
y