"Now, my hearties," he said, introducing Marchmont, "this gentleman's got a word to say to you which it's worth your while to hear." And he put him in the centre of the ring.
"Mates," began the journalist, fitting his speech to the audience he was addressing, "I'm a plain man of few words, and I've come to you about a plain matter. Mr. Funk will tell you I'm speaking the truth; and you know this gentleman," indicating the tramp.
The crowd growled gutturally. They appreciated the tramp's generous offers of liquor, but not his society.
"Well," continued Marchmont, ignoring the unfavourable tone, "I suppose you'd all like to see the Yankees lick the Dons."
"Ay, ay, you're right there," muttered a burly tar.
"Good for you! We're all of the same family, and blood's thicker than water. Of course you want the boys in blue to win; and that being the case, I rely on you to help me, like true British tars, the nation's bulwarks—!"
"Hear, hear!" growled the crowd appreciatively.
"Now do you know whom you've aboard to-day?" demanded the American.
"The Bishop o' Blanford, and a laidy," came the tones of a voice whose owner evidently hailed from London.
"No, you haven't," cried the journalist excitedly. "No, you haven't! You've got two low-down Spanish spies!"