“You lie!” snarled the gentleman pugilist, flinging Dent off and seeming as steady as ever. “I’ve just begun to fight!”
Once more Frank waited until his enemy closed in. Then he took his time and knocked the fellow down for the finish.
Manton lay still a moment, tried to rise, struggled to his elbow and fell back.
“He’s out!” cried Frost huskily, as he lifted Manton’s head.
CHAPTER VIII.
A PAIR OF KNAVES.
About four miles from the Eagle Heights club lived Joel Bemis, a farmer. On the afternoon of the day following the events just recorded in the best “spare room” at the Bemis farm sat a young man whose eyes were covered by a bandage and whose face was cut, bruised, and discolored in places.
A step sounded outside the door, and the man on the chair started and lifted the bandage from his eyes.