A Fool and His Money

by George Barr McCutcheon

Colingraft gazed about him in a stupid, vacant fashion for a moment, and then allowed his glazed eyes to rest upon me. He sat rather limply, I thought.

"Are you hurt, Colly?" cried Jasper, Jr.

A sickly grin, more of surprise than shame, stole over Colingraft's face. He put his hand to his jaw; then to the back of his head.

"By Jove!" he murmured. "I—I didn't think he had it in him. Let me get up!"

Jasper, Jr. was discreet. "Better let well enough alone, old—"

"I intend to," said Colingraft, as he struggled to his feet.

For a moment he faced me, uncertainly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Titus," said I calmly.

"You—you are a wonder!" fell from his lips. "I'm not a coward, Mr. Smart. I've boxed a good deal in my time, but—by Jove, I never had a jolt like that."

He turned abruptly and left us. We followed him slowly toward the steps. At the bottom he stopped and faced me again.