Sometimes it
was that the police had learnt of the fight, and had raided Keppler's
in his absence, and again it was that the fight had been postponed,
or, worst of all, that it would be put off until so late that Mr.
Dwyer could not get back in time for the last edition of the paper.
Their coming, when at last they came, was heralded by an advance-guard
of two sporting men, who stationed themselves at either side of the
big door.
"Hurry up, now, gents," one of the men said with a shiver, "don't keep
this door open no longer'n is needful."
It was not a very large crowd, but it was wonderfully well selected.
It ran, in the majority of its component parts, to heavy white coats
with pearl buttons. The white coats were shouldered by long blue coats
with astrakhan fur trimmings, the wearers of which preserved a
cliqueness not remarkable when one considers that they believed every
one else present to be either a crook or a prize-fighter.
There were well-fed, well-groomed club-men and brokers in the crowd, a
politician or two, a popular comedian with his manager, amateur boxers
from the athletic clubs, and quiet, close-mouthed sporting men from
every city in the country.
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