"Ever read this?" asked a pleasant voice from behind, indicating Rodney
Stone with the ferrule of a cane.
Harrigan looked up. "No. What's it about?"
"Best story of the London prize-ring ever written. You're Mr. Harrigan,
aren't you?"
"Yes," diffidently.
"My name is Edward Courtlandt. If I am not mistaken, you were a great
friend of my father's."
"Are you Dick Courtlandt's boy?"
"I am."
"Well, say!" Harrigan held out his hand and was gratified to encounter a
man's grasp. "So you're Edward Courtlandt? Now, what do you think of that!
Why, your father was the best sportsman I ever met. Square as they make
'em. Not a kink anywhere in his make-up. He used to come to the bouts in
his plug hat and dress suit; always had a seat by the ring. I could hear
him tap with his cane when there happened to be a bit of pretty sparring.
He was no slouch himself when it came to putting on the mitts. Many's the
time I've had a round or two with him in my old gymnasium. Well, well!
It's good to see a man again. I've seen your name in the papers, but I
never knew you was Dick's boy. You've got an old grizzly's head in your
dining-room at home. Some day I'll tell you how it got there, when you're
not in a hurry. I went out to Montana for a scrap, and your dad went
along. After the mill was over, we went hunting. Come up to the villa and
meet the folks.... Hang it, I forgot. They're up to Caxley-Webster's to
tea; piffle water and sticky sponge-cake. I want you to meet my wife and
daughter."
"I should be very pleased to meet them." So this was Nora's father? "Won't
you come along with me to the colonel's?" with sudden inspiration. Here
was an opportunity not to be thrust aside lightly.
"Why, I just begged off. They won't be expecting me now."
"All the better. I'd rather have you introduce me to your family than to
have the colonel. As a matter of fact, I told him I couldn't get up. But I
changed my mind. Come along." The first rift in the storm-packed clouds;
and to meet her through the kindly offices of this amiable man who was her
father!
"But the pup and the cigar box?"
"Send them up."
Harrigan eyed his own spotless flannels and compared them with the
other's. What was good enough for the son of a millionaire was certainly
good enough for him. Besides, it would be a bully good joke on Nora and
Molly.