PUGILIST SOCIETY MAN
JIM ROBINSON, THE HEAVY WEIGHT, A
MASQUERADER.
I read the type below hurriedly:
A story is going the rounds that Jim Robinson, the heavyweight, who goes against Sailor Clancy in the principal event at the Garden tonight, is not Robinson at all, but a well-known society man and millionaire. From the hour when this match was made in May last there has been a mystery attached to the personality of this fighter never before heard of in Fistiana in New York. Flynn, his backer and trainer, could not be found to deny or affirm the rumor, and his sparring partners at Flynn's Gymnasium, of course, denied it, but every circumstance, including the size of the purse, now believed to be five thousand dollars, would indicate that Flynn's Unknown, unless a well-known Westerner in disguise, is a man of more than usual ability—or else a millionaire sport, bent on enriching the hard-fisted sailor, who thinks he sees a chance of picking up some easy money besides his share of the gate. Whoever Jim Robinson is, we welcome him cordially.
But we also warn him that New York is tired of ring fakes and that nothing but a good mill will justify the prices asked.
I showed the thing to Ballard, who read it through eagerly, his lips emitting a thin whistle.
"Ph-ew! They're getting 'warm,' Pope. Somebody's leaked."
"But who—?"
"May be the management—to draw the crowd." And then, looking at the front page, "That's only the twelve o'clock edition. Perhaps—"
He paused and rang the bell (we were at his rooms again), instructing his man to go out on the street and buy copies of the latest editions of all the afternoon papers.
"It would be the deuce if they followed that up."