Jerry has taken me round to the best haunts where gallant sportsmen assemble, and for some mysterious reason, his escort has secured for me the most flattering deference. Queer holes he knows by the score. I thought I had seen most things; but I find I am a babe compared with Jerry. He once said to me, "Would you like to see a couple of lads set-to? Real good 'uns." I had seen a great number of encounters; but my two pounds handed over to Jerry procured me a sight of a battle which was the most desperate affair I ever witnessed. But for the close, oppressive atmosphere of the room where the fight took place, the whole business would have been interesting. The spectators were well dressed and well behaved, the boxers were beautiful athletes, and there was nothing repulsive about the swift exchange of lightning blows until the baking heat began to tell on the men; then it was disagreeable to see two gallant fellows panting and labouring for breath. We often hear that boxing is discredited. Rubbish! Ask Jerry about that, and you will learn that any company of men who care to subscribe L25 may see a combat wherein science, courage, and endurance are all displayed lavishly. Jerry was much interested in dog fighting, which latter pleasing pastime is enjoyed quite freely in London to an extent that would amaze the gentlemen who rejoice over the decline of brutality in Britain. The competitive instinct which once found vent in fighting and conquest now works on other lines. The Englishman must be engaged in a contest, or he is unhappy, and, since he cannot now compete sword to sword with his fellow-creatures, he fights purse to purse instead. All these things I knew in a vague way, but Jerry has made my knowledge definite and secure. As for the man himself, I soon found that his "private means" were taken in various ways from other people's pockets. During a chat, he said, "You know you're not what you pretend to be. You hang about there, and you bet, but you never bet enough to make anything at it. You must have the coins, for I've seen you spend a quid in two hours in the skittle-alley. But you don't seem to best anybody. What _is_ your game? You may as well tell me." "I amuse myself in my own way, and I don't care to let the school know much about me." "Well, my game's very simple. Only a juggins or a horse ever works, and I don't intend to do any. It's just as easy to be idle as not. You take the fellows in town that make their living after dark, and you always see them having good times. There's some red-hot ones up--you know where--in Piccadilly; they never get about till close on dinner time, but they make up for lost time when they _are_ about. I should like to work with you. If you were to come out a bit flash like me, why, with your looks and your talk and that _educated_ kind of way you've got, you might coin money." "But you wouldn't care to work the Embankment and run the risk of the cat, as those Piccadilly chaps do?"