about the room in the most extraordinary fashion, indulging at the same time in lightning-like movements with his head and arms. To the uninitiated observer he would have appeared to be either qualifying for a lunatic asylum or else attempting the difficult feat of catching flies on the wing. As a matter of fact either assumption would have been equally inaccurate. He was engaged in what is known amongst pugilists as "shadow boxing" which consists of conducting an animated contest with a vicious but imaginary opponent. 

 On seeing Tony the young man in question came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room, and raised his forefinger to his close-cropped forehead. 

 "Mornin', Sir Ant'ny," he observed. 

 Notwithstanding his exertions he spoke without the least trace of breathlessness, and there was no sign of perspiration upon his clean white skin. He looked what he was—a splendidly built lad of about nineteen, trained to the last pitch of physical fitness. 

 Tony glanced him over with an approving eye. "Good-morning, Bugg," he answered.  "I am glad to see you looking so well. I dreamed you had broken your neck." 

 The lad grinned cheerfully.  "Not me, sir. Never felt better in me life. Must 'a bin the other bloke." 

 "I hope not," said Tony anxiously.  "I backed you for another two-fifty yesterday, and I can't very well claim the money unless the fight comes off. By the way, a hundred of that goes on to the purse if you do the trick all right." 

 The young prize-fighter looked a trifle embarrassed. "There ain't no call for that, sir—thankin' ye kindly all the saime, sir. I'd knock out 'alf a dozen blokes like Lopez for a purse o' three 'undred." 

 "Your unmercenary nature is one of your chief charms, Bugg," said Tony.  "All the same you mustn't carry it to extremes. How much money have you got in the bank now?" 

 Bugg scratched his ear.  "The last time I goes in, sir, the old geezer with the whiskers says somethin' abaht a matter of eleven 'undred quid." 

 "Well, by to-morrow you ought to have fifteen hundred. In other words, Bugg, you will be a capitalist—one of the idle rich. That money, properly invested, will bring you in thirty shillings a week. If you want to set up as an independent gentleman now's the time to begin." 

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