“It’s all in the bill,” he said. “Hogan charged me for the rubbing.” On the train going into town Jack didn’t talk. He sat in the corner of the seat with his ticket in his hat-band and looked out of the window. Once he turned and spoke to me. “I told the wife I’d take a room at the Shelby to-night,” he said. “It’s just around the corner from the Garden. I can go up to the house to-morrow morning.” “That’s a good idea,” I said. “Your wife ever see you fight, Jack?” “No,” Jack says. “She never seen me fight.” I thought he must be figuring on taking an awful beating if he doesn’t want to go home afterward. In town we took a taxi up to the Shelby. A boy came out and took our bags and we went in to the desk. “How much are the rooms?” Jack asked. “We only have double rooms,” the clerk says. “I can give you a nice double room for ten dollars.” “That’s too steep.” “I can give you a double room for seven dollars.” “With a bath?” “Certainly.” “You might as well bunk with me, Jerry,” Jack says. “Oh,” I said, “I’ll sleep down at my brother-in-law’s.” “I don’t mean for you to pay it,” Jack says. “I just want to get my money’s worth.” “Will you register, please?” the clerk says. He looked at the names. “Number 238, Mister Brennan.” We went up in the elevator. It was a nice big room with two beds and a door opening into a bath-room. “This is pretty good,” Jack says. The boy who brought us up pulled up the curtains and brought in our bags. Jack didn’t make any move, so I gave the boy a quarter. We washed up and Jack said we better go out and get something to eat. We ate a lunch at Jimmey Handley’s place. Quite a lot of the boys were there. When we were about half through eating, John came in and sat down with us. Jack didn’t talk much. “How are you on the weight, Jack?” John asked him. Jack was putting away a pretty good lunch. “I could make it with my clothes on,” Jack said. He never had to worry about taking off weight. He was a natural welter-weight and he’d never gotten fat. He’d lost weight out at Hogan’s. “Well, that’s one thing you never had to worry about,” John said. “That’s one thing,” Jack says. We went around to the garden to weigh in after lunch. The match was made at a hundred forty-seven pounds at three o’clock. Jack stepped on the scales with a towel around him. The bar didn’t move. Walcott had just weighed and was standing with a lot of people around him. “Let’s see what you weigh, Jack,” Freedman, Walcott’s manager said. “All right, weigh _him_ then,” Jack jerked his head toward Walcott. “Drop the towel,” Freedman said. “What do you make it?” Jack asked the fellows who were weighing. “One hundred and forty-three pounds,” the fat man who was weighing said. “You’re down fine, Jack,” Freedman says. “Weigh _him_,” Jack says. Walcott came over. He was a blond with wide shoulders and arms like a heavyweight. He didn’t have much legs. Jack stood about half a head taller than he did.