Young Mr. Blake's
account of the overnight proceedings at the Six Hundred Club he
rendered with a gloomy gusto more marked even than his wont. It
had a topical interest for him which urged him to extend himself.
"At an early hour this morning, when our myriad readers
were enjoying that refreshing and brain-restoring sleep so
necessary to the proper appreciation of the _Daily Sun_ at
the breakfast table, one of the most interesting sporting
events of the season was being pulled off at the Six
Hundred Club in Regent Street, where, after three rounds
of fast exchanges, James B. Crocker, the well-known
American welter-weight scrapper, succeeded in stopping
Lord Percy Whipple, second son of the Duke of Devizes,
better known as the Pride of Old England. Once again the
superiority of the American over the English style of
boxing was demonstrated. Battling Percy has a kind heart,
but Cyclone Jim packs the punch."
"The immediate cause of the encounter had to do with a
disputed table, which each gladiator claimed to have
engaged in advance over the telephone."
"I begin to remember," said Jimmy meditatively. "A pill with
butter-coloured hair tried to jump my claim. Honeyed words
proving fruitless, I soaked him on the jaw. It may be that I was
not wholly myself. I seem to remember an animated session at the
Empire earlier in the evening, which may have impaired my
self-control. Proceed!"
"One word leading to others, which in their turn led to
several more, Cyclone Jim struck Battling Percy on what
our rude forefathers were accustomed to describe as the
mazzard, and the gong sounded for
"ROUND ONE
"Both men came up fresh and eager to mix things, though it
seems only too probable that they had already been mixing
more things than was good for them.
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