“How do you do, Mr. Stapleton? I was introduced to you at the big fight at the Corinthian Club in Piccadilly.”
“Ah! I dare say,” said the other, shaking hands. “Fact is, I’m introduced to so many that I can’t undertake to carry their names. Wilson, is it? Well, Mr. Wilson, glad to see you. Couldn’t get a fly at the station, and that’s why I’m late.”
“I’m sure, sir,” said Armitage, “we should be proud that anyone so well known in the boxing world should come down to our little exhibition.”
“Not at all. Not at all. Anything in the interests of boxin’. All ready? Men weighed?”
“Weighing now, sir.”
“Ah! Just as well that I should see it done. Seen you before, Craggs. Saw you fight your second battle against Willox. You had beaten him once, but he came back on you. What does the indicator say?—163lbs.—two off for the kit—161lbs. Now, my lad, you jump. My goodness, what colours are you wearing?”
“The Anonymi Cricket Club.”
“What right have you to wear them? I belong to the club myself.”
“So do I.”
“You an amateur?”