The father stamped the length of the room again. "I'll show you. Where is Clancy?"
"I don't know. You'll find him at Madison Square Garden about ten."
"But where is he now?" he snapped.
Jack shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well, you must come with me. I've got to find him."
"What are you going to do?"
"Buy him off. This match can't take place."
"Do you mean that?" asked Jack with a smile.
"Did you ever know me to waste words?—Come!"
However lenient Henry Ballard had been to his son, at that moment the parental word was law, and Jack obeyed, taking up his hat and gloves, and laying a pink ticket on the table.