Cashel Byron's Profession

"Bob Mellish," said Skene, "I'll lay you twenty to one he stops that

rush that you think so much of. Come: twenty to one!"

Mellish shook his head. Then the master of the ceremonies, pointing

to the men in succession, shouted, "Paradise: a professor. Cashel

Byron: a professor. Time!"

Cashel now looked at Paradise, of whose existence he had not before

seemed to be aware. The two men advanced towards the centre of the

ring, shook hands at arm's-length, cast off each other's grasp

suddenly, fell back a step, and began to move warily round one

another from left to right like a pair of panthers.

"I think they might learn manners from the gentlemen, and shake

hands cordially," said Alice, trying to appear unconcerned, but

oppressed by a vague dread of Cashel.

"That's the traditional manner," said Lord Worthington. "It is done

that way to prevent one from holding the other; pulling him over,

and hitting him with the disengaged hand before he could get loose."

"What abominable treachery!" exclaimed Lydia.

"It's never done, you know," said Lord Worthington, apologetically.

"Only it might be."

Lydia turned away from him, and gave all her attention to the

boxers. Of the two, Paradise shocked her least. He was evidently

nervous and conscious of a screwed-up condition as to his courage;

but his sly grin implied a wild sort of good-humor, and seemed to

promise the spectators that he would show them some fun presently.

Cashel watched his movements with a relentless vigilance and a

sidelong glance in which, to Lydia's apprehension, there was

something infernal.

Suddenly the eyes of Paradise lit up: he lowered his head, made a

rush, balked himself purposely, and darted at Cashel. There was a

sound like the pop of a champagne-cork, after which Cashel was seen

undisturbed in the middle of the ring, and Paradise, flung against

the ropes and trying to grin at his discomfiture, showed his white

teeth through a mask of blood.

"Beautiful!" cried Skene with emotion. "Beautiful! There ain't but

me and my boy in the world can give the upper cut like that! I wish

I could see my old missis's face now! This is nuts to her."

"Let us go away," said Alice.

"That was a very different blow to any that the gentlemen gave,"

said Lydia, without heeding her, to Lord Worthington. "The man is

bleeding horribly."

"It's only his nose," said Lord Worthington. "He's used to it."