"Many of the gentry and titled classes did honor him with their
attention, I believe."

"Why," asked Jocelyn, whose blue eyes were fastened very intently on the
face of the police agent, "did they call him such a funny name, the
'Frisco Pet?"

"Because he's a yankee bruiser, prize-fighter, or was, before the drink
got him," explained Mr. Gillett. "And originally, I believe, he hailed
from the land of the free. Some one brought him to London, found out
about his 'talents' and put him in training. He was a low, ignorant
sailor; could scarcely write his own name; but he had biceps and a thick
head. Didn't know when he was whipped. I can see him yet, as he used to
look, with his giant shoulders and his swagger as he stepped into the
ring. There was no nonsense about him--or his fist; could break a board
with that. And how the shouts used to go up; 'the pet!' 'a quid on the
pet!' 'ten bob on the stars and stripes!' meaning the costume he wore.
Oh, he was a favorite in Camden Town! But one night he failed them; met
some friends from the forecastle of a Yankee trader that had dropped
down the Thames. Went into the ring with a stagger added to the swagger.
Well, they took him out unconscious; never was a man worse punished. He
never got back to the sawdust, and the sporting gentlemen lost a bright
and shining light."

"Broke his heart, I suppose," observed Sir Charles.

"How could that break his heart?" asked the child wonderingly. "I
thought when people had their hearts broken--"

"Jocelyn, don't interrupt!" said the wife of Sir Charles. "Although," to