Mr. Joseph Bates—for it was none other than the ex-pugilist—jumped to his feet with a grin of welcome.
"Well, I'm blarsted," he exclaimed. "Caught me proper, that you did, sir. Who'd ever have thought o' meeting you 'ere?"
He held out a large and not over-clean hand, which Colin shook heartily.
"I was just saying to meself only yesterday," continued Joe, "some time when I get a free mornin' I must do a trip up to the 'orspital an' tell the doctor abaht my bit o' good luck."
"What's that?" demanded Colin, taking a seat beside him on the bench. "Have you fallen in love, or is somebody offering you a job at a brewery?"
"You'd never guess," returned Joe with a chuckle, "not if you was to try for a month o' Sundays." He removed a short clay pipe from the corner of his mouth and spat contentedly on to the platform. "I gorn back into the perfession, guv'nor, that's wot I done."
Colin eyed him incredulously. "That's a good one, Joe," he observed. "Who are you going to fight—Jack Dempsey?"
"'Tain't a joke, guv'nor. I'm back in the old business again, gospel truth I am, but not as wot you might call a principal." He paused, as though to give full weight to his coming disclosure. "You've 'eard tell o' Solly Moss and the Palace o' Sport?"
"What, the new boxing ring in Whitechapel?"
"That's it—that's the place I'm gettin' at. Well, the very day after I see'd you and the young lady ahtside the club, who should I run across in the street but old Solly Moss 'isself. 'Im an' me was pals once, before 'e come up in the world, an' 'e's got a good 'eart, Solly 'as—especially for a Sheeny. We 'as a bit of a talk like, an' a couple o' drinks, an' he says to me, 'Joe,' 'e says, 'you come along dahn to my 'all, an' damn me if I don't find you a job.' An' wot's more, 'e's done it, guv'nor. I'm caretaker, chucker-aht, and one o' the two official seconds, with thirty bob a week an' me name on the bleedin' programme."