"I have no desire to interfere unduly with your affairs, Mr. Montgomery,
but were you thinking of having a day in Leeds upon Saturday?"
"No, sir.
"In the country?"
"Yes, sir."
"You are very wise. You will find a quiet day among the wild flowers a
very valuable restorative. Have you thought of any particular
direction?"
"I am going over Croxley way."
"Well, there is no prettier country when once you are past the
iron-works. What could be more delightful than to lie upon the Fells,
basking in the sunshine, with perhaps some instructive and elevating
book as your companion? I should recommend a visit to the ruins of St.
Bridget's Church, a very interesting relic of the early Norman era.
By the way, there is one objection which I see to your going to Croxley
on Saturday. It is upon that date, as I am informed, that that
ruffianly glove fight takes place. You may find yourself molested by
the blackguards whom it will attract."
"I will take my chance of that, sir," said the assistant.
On the Friday night, which was the last night before the fight,
Montgomery's three backers assembled in the gymnasium and inspected
their man as he went through some light exercises to keep his muscles
supple. He was certainly in splendid condition, his skin shining with
health, and his eyes with energy and confidence.
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