"Fraser had adopted the so-called Fitzsimmons shift—you know, the right foot forward, while the left hand shoots out from somewhere near the hip, plunging at close range into the pit of the stomach."
Allison rose to illustrate it. "Irving, on the other hand, had been advocating the Jeffries crouch as the only safeguard to meet it,—like that."
He threw himself into position and went on, "The bout had been arranged, accordingly, and it was some bout, too. Most of us here are fond of boxing to keep fit.
"Well, at last Fraser got under his guard, I suppose you'd call it. He landed. For an instant, Irving stood up straight, his hands helplessly extended. Most of us thought he was fooling and Fraser jumped back, laughing at the way his contention had worked out. Then, slowly, struggling as if against the inevitable, Irving bent forward and toppled over on his face.
"That's where we woke up. We rushed forward and picked him up, apparently unconscious, and carried him to the locker-room. There was a good deal of excitement. Someone telephoned for a doctor, but couldn't seem to find one at home."
"Did you see anything peculiar take place in the locker-room?" asked Kennedy, following keenly.
"Anything peculiar?"
"Yes—anyone near him, perhaps—another blow—while he was unconscious."
"No—and I think I would have seen anything that was out of the way. I was there almost all the time—until someone told me my sister was upstairs and suggested that I was the best one to break the news to her."
"I'd like to look over the gymnasium and locker-room," suggested Craig.