So they went to it again, and Jack moved about now, smooth as a dancer for all his years, and tapped his glove on Bismarck’s head and chin and body, while the other smashed away at him and hit nothing. I encouraged him by haw-hawing every time he missed, for I wanted him to realise what an ass he looked, and he bore in all the harder, flailing at Jack’s head and shoulders while the old champion turned, feinted and slipped away, leaving him floundering.

“That’s enough!” shouts someone. “Time out, you fellows, and let’s drink to it!” and there were several voices which cried aye, aye, at which Jack dropped his hands and looked to Spottswood. But Bismarck rushed in, and Jack, in fending him off with a left, tapped him a little harder than he meant to, and bloodied his nose.

That stopped the German in his tracks, and Jack, all crestfallen, was stepping in to apologise, when to everyone’s amazement Bismarck ran at him, seized him round the waist, swung him off his feet, and hurled him to the floor. He landed with a tremendous crash, his head striking the boards, and in a moment everyone was on his feet, shouting and cheering. Some cried “Foul!” while others applauded the German—they were the drunker ones—and then there was a sudden hush as Jack shook his head and slowly got to his feet.

He looked shaken, and furious, too, but he had himself in hand.

“All right, mynheer,” says he. “I didn’t know we was holding and throwing.” I don’t suppose anything like it had happened to him in his life before, and his pride was wounded far worse than his body. “My own fault, for not looking out,” says he. “Well, well, let it go. You can say you’ve downed John Gully,” and he looked round the room, slowly, as though trying to read what everyone was thinking.

“Best stop now, I think,” says he at last.

“You do not wish to continue?” cries Bismarck. He looked fairly blown, but the arrogant note in his voice was there, as ever.

Gully stared at him a moment. “Best not,” says he.

The room was uncomfortably quiet, until Bismarck laughed his short laugh and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, very well,” says he, “since you do not wish it.”

Two red spots came into Jack’s pale cheeks. “I think it’s best to stop now,” says he, in a hard voice. “If you’re wise, mynheer, you’ll make the most of that.”

“As you please,” says Bismarck, and to my delight he added: “It is you who are ending the bout, you know.”