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Updated: June 17, 2025
And I hear that No. 2 the Queen's Greys' man is unusually fast for a heavy-weight." "I'd like to see him win," admitted the Colonel. "The man looks a gentleman. Doesn't the other look a Bill Sykes, by Jove!" The Staff Sergeant Instructor of the Motipur Gymnasium stepped into the ring. "Silence, please," he bawled. Please keep silence durin' the rounds.
If it saved a single day I should start for Motipur myself at once. If we passed in mid-ocean I should jump overboard and swim to your ship. Then you'd do the same, and we should 'get left, and look silly.... Oh, what nonsense I am talking but I don't think I shall talk anything else again for sheer joy!
The winner is Heavy-Weight Champion of Hindia, winner of the Motipur Cup and 'older of the Elliott Belt. All ready there?" Both combatants were ready. "Come here, both of you," said the referee. As he arose to obey, Dam was irresistibly reminded of his fight with Bully Harberth and smiled. "Nervous sort o' grin on the figger-'ead o' the smaller wessel, don't it," observed Seaman Smith.
What was the meaning of it all? Was it pure chance and accident or had a Living, Scheming, Purposeful Deity a great wise object in this that John Humphreyville Priddell should have been born and bred and nurtured in the Vale of Froom to be struck from lusty life to a death of agony in a few hours at Motipur in the cruel accursed blighted land of Ind?
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