CHAPTER IV


She hurried to the peep-hole, and found herself against the ring. She
could see the whole of it, though part of the audience was shut off. The
ring was well lighted by an overhead cluster of patent gas-burners. The
front row of the men she had squeezed past, because of their paper and
pencils, she decided to be reporters from the local papers up-town. One
of them was chewing gum. Behind them, on the other two rows of seats,
she could make out firemen from the near-by engine-house and several
policemen in uniform. In the middle of the front row, flanked by the
reporters, sat the young chief of police. She was startled by catching
sight of Mr. Clausen on the opposite side of the ring. There he sat,
austere, side-whiskered, pink and white, close up against the front of
the ring. Several seats farther on, in the same front row, she
discovered Silverstein, his weazen features glowing with anticipation.

A few cheers heralded the advent of several young fellows, in
shirt-sleeves, carrying buckets, bottles, and towels, who crawled through
the ropes and crossed to the diagonal corner from her. One of them sat
down on a stool and leaned back against the ropes. She saw that he was
bare-legged, with canvas shoes on his feet, and that his body was swathed
in a heavy white sweater. In the meantime another group had occupied the
corner directly against her. Louder cheers drew her attention to it, and
she saw Joe seated on a stool still clad in the bath robe, his short
chestnut curls within a yard of her eyes.

A young man, in a black suit, with a mop of hair and a preposterously
tall starched collar, walked to the centre of the ring and held up his