"In London there are many people who disagree with the clock," Franklin laughed. "In this office, even the moments have the gout. They limp along with slow feet." It was a gloomy room. The chairs, lounges and tables had a venerable look like that of the men who came there with warped legs and old mahogany faces. The red rugs and hangings suggested "the effect of old port on the human countenance, being of a hue like unto that of many cheeks and noses in the waiting company," as the young man wrote. The door to the private room of the great physician creaked on its hinges with a kind of groan when he came out accompanied by a limping patient. "Wait here for a minute--a gout minute," said Franklin to his young friend. "When Pringle dismisses me, I will present you." Jack sat and waited while the room filled with ruddy, crotchety gentlemen supported by canes or crutches--elderly, old and of middle age. Among those of the latter class was a giant of a man, erect and dignified, accompanied by a big blond youngster in a lieutenant's uniform. He sat down and began to talk with another patient of the troubles in America. "I see the damned Yankees have thrown another cargo of tea overboard," said he in a tone of anger. "This time it was in Cape Cod. We must give those Yahoos a lesson." Jack surmised now that here was the aggressive Tory General of whom the Doctor had spoken and that the young man was his son. "I fear that it would be a costly business sending men to fight across three thousand miles of sea," said the other. "Bosh! There is not one Yankee in a hundred that has the courage of a rabbit. With a thousand British grenadiers, I would undertake to go from one end of America to another and amputate the heads of the males, partly by force and partly by coaxing." A laugh followed these insulting words. Jack Irons rose quickly and approached the man who had uttered them. The young American was angry, but he managed to say with good composure: "I am an American, sir, and I demand a retraction of those words or a chance to match my courage against yours." A murmur of surprise greeted his challenge. The Britisher turned quickly with color mounting to his brow and surveyed the sturdy form of the young man. "I take back nothing that I say," he declared. "Then, in behalf of my slandered countrymen, I demand the right to fight you or any Britisher who has the courage to take up your quarrel." Jack Irons had spoken calmly like one who had weighed his words. The young Lieutenant who had entered the room with the fiery, middle-aged Britisher, rose and faced the American and said: "I will take up his quarrel, sir. Here is my card." "And here is mine," said Jack. "When will you be at home?" "At noon to-morrow." "Some friend of mine will call upon you," Jack assured the other.