Robert Vining was with them--a tall,
broad-shouldered, person of a year or so past thirty, bright and steady
of eye, and with the flush of health upon his carefully shaven cheek. He
entered like the muscular paragon he was, lithely and easily as a tiger;
and it seemed to Anthony that, if he did nothing else, fifteen minutes
of his conversation might serve to restore normal thought.

Robert Vining was all of the pleasant every day that had been before
their visit to the fight, and the very sight of him was stimulating.

So he clasped Vining's hand and said heartily:

"Good morning, Bob! You've breakfasted?"

"Long since," grinned young Mr. Vining. "I--who uses perfume around
here?"

"No one," Anthony said, paling slightly. "Possibly----"

Vining's eyes twinkled.

"Guess I imagined it," he said. "There's a reason! Well, it's early, but
I thought I'd drop in for a moment in passing and see what you thought
of the alleged battle last night. Hello, Johnson! Heard you were here.
Did you go, too?"

"Yep," said Johnson Boller, gazing at his old friend and wondering
whether Anthony thought he was looking and acting like himself.

"It was one grand lemon, Anthony, was it not?" asked Mr. Vining,
sprawling comfortably for a stay and pinching the end of his cigarette.

Anthony himself settled down in his pet chair for a normal quarter-hour.

"It was all of that," he agreed almost cheerfully. "I've seen the
so-called Kid in pretty bad form before; he was a howling outrage when
he fought Morr two years ago, but last night----"

His voiced trailed away oddly and for cause. Wilkins, coming from
nowhere in particular, was standing in the corridor. He looked straight
at his master and with great meaning, and having caught his attention he
rolled his eyes toward David's room and nodded slightly. Again he looked
at Anthony, again he nodded; and Anthony rose abruptly.

"You--excuse me for a moment, Bob?" he asked, in the same low, husky
voice that had afflicted him before this morning. "Wilkins--ah--Wilkins
wishes----"

He hurried across the room and followed Wilkins as he backed into the
shadows of the corridor.

"She wishes to see you, sir," the invaluable one whispered. "She rang
for me and she says it's urgent."

"But----"

"I'd go at once, sir!" Wilkins breathed fervently. "I really would, Mr.
Fry. She seems in a bit of a temper, if I may say so."

Anthony passed him without further comment or protest, and hastene