WO days later, as Frank was about to start for the cricket-field, a small boy, whom he recognised as a son of Perkins, stopped him.
"Father wants to speak to you perticular, Mr. Norris."
"All right, young un, I will go round there at once."
Wondering what Perkins could have to say to him, Frank took his way to the public-house.
"What is it, Perkins?" he asked the prize-fighter as the latter let him into his private parlour.
"Well sir, there's a rumpus over this business as we had the other night."
"How a rumpus, Perkins?"
"Well, sir, there was a tall red-haired chap—leastways I hear as he's tall and red-headed, and is a tailor by trade; his name is Suggs. It seems as how he got knocked down in the scrummage, and was so bad that the police, who came up after you left, took him to hospital; they brought him round all right, but it seems as how the bridge of his nose was broke, and it will be flat to his face for the rest of his life. Now I fancy that's a piece of your handiwork, Mr. Norris; I saw jist such a chap as that go down when you hit him, and I thought to myself at the time what a onener it was."
"Yes, I did knock down just such a fellow," Frank said, "and I am sorry I hit him so hard; I was afraid at the time that I hurt him."
"You should not let out from the shoulder in that sort of way, Mr. Norris," the pugilist said, shaking his head; "you hit like the kick of a horse, and you never know what mayn't come of them sort of blows. No, sir; half-armed hitting is the thing for a general row; it hurts just as much, and is just as good for closing up an eye, but it don't do no general damage, so to speak. Now, sir, there's a row over the business. In course I holds my tongue; but they says as four of the party was young uns, and they guessed as they was gents. Now they puts things together, and have found out as I gives lessons to some of you Westminster gents, and they guesses as some of you was with me. Now, as I tells them, what can they do? They was the first to begin it, and we was only standing on self-defence, that's the way I puts it. No magistrate would look at the charge for a minute. It stands to reason that nine men did not attack four or five hundred. They must have been attacking us, that's clear to any one; and if it was me I should not care the snap of a finger about it—that's what I tells the red-haired tailor when he came here with two of his pals this morning. 'We has as much right to our opinions as you have; you attacks us,' says I, 'and we gives you pepper, that's all about it.' 'His beauty's spoilt for life,' says one of his mates. 'He never had no beauty to spoil,' says I, 'by the look of 'im,' so we got to words. 'They was Westminster boys,' says he. 'That's all you knows about it,' says I. 'I will go to their masters,' says he, 'and report the case, and show him my nose,' says he. 'You have got no case to report,' says I, 'and no nose to show.' 'We will see about that,' says he; 'I ain't going to be made an object for the rest of my life for nothing.'