Sir
Timothy and his companions took their chairs amidst a buzz of
welcome. Almost immediately, the man who was in charge of the
proceedings, and whose name was Harrison, rose from his place.
"Gentlemen," he said, "this is a sporting contest, but one under
usual rules and usual conditions. An amateur, who tips the
scales at twelve stone seven, who has never engaged in a boxing
contest in his life, is matched against a young man from a
different sphere of life, who intends to adopt the ring as his
profession, but who has never as yet fought in public. Names,
gentlemen, as you know, are seldom mentioned here. I will only
say that the first in the ring is the nominee of our friend and
host, Sir Timothy Brast; second comes the nominee of Lord
Meadowson."
Wilmore, notwithstanding his pre-knowledge, gave a little gasp.
The young man who stood now within a few yards of him, carelessly
swinging his gloves in his hand, was without a doubt his missing
brother. He looked well and in the pink of condition; not only
well but entirely confident and at his ease. His opponent, on
the other hand, a sturdier man, a few inches shorter, was nervous
and awkward, though none the less determined-looking. Sir
Timothy rose and whispered in Harrison's ear. The latter nodded.
In a very few moments the preliminaries were concluded, the fight
begun.
Pages:
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299