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Maud hardly knew whether she was glad or sorry to see him. It did not seem to matter much now either way. Nothing seemed to matter much, in fact. Arthur’s cheery acceptance of the news that she received invitations from others had been like a blow, leaving her numb and listless.

She made the introductions. The two men eyed each other.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Mr Shute.

‘Weather keeps up,’ said Arthur.

And from that point onward Mr Shute took command.

It is to be assumed that this was not the first time that Mr Shute had made one of a trio in these circumstances, for the swift dexterity with which he lost Arthur was certainly not that of a novice. So smoothly was it done that it was not until she emerged from the Witching Waves, guided by the pugilist’s slim but formidable right arm, that Maud realized that Arthur had gone.

She gave a little cry of dismay. Secretly she was beginning to be somewhat afraid of Mr Shute. He was showing signs of being about to step out of the role she had assigned to him and attempt something on a larger scale. His manner had that extra touch of warmth which makes all the difference.

‘Oh! He’s gone!’ she cried.

‘Sure,’ said Mr Shute. ‘He’s got a hurry-call from the Uji Village. The chief’s cousin wants a hair-cut.’

‘We must find him. We must.’

‘Surest thing you know,’ said Mr Shute. ‘Plenty of time.’

‘We must find him.’

Mr Shute regarded her with some displeasure.

‘Seems to be ace-high with you, that dub,’ he said.

‘I don’t understand you.’

‘My observation was,’ explained Mr Shute, coldly, ‘that, judging from appearances, that dough-faced lemon was Willie-boy, the first and only love.’

Maud turned on him with flaming cheeks.

‘Mr Welsh is nothing to me! Nothing! Nothing!’ she cried.

She walked quickly on.

‘Then, if there’s a vacancy, star-eyes,’ said the pugilist at her side, holding on a hat which showed a tendency to wobble, ‘count me in. Directly I saw you–see here, what’s the idea of this road-work? We aren’t racing–‘

Maud slowed down.

‘That’s better. As I was saying, directly I saw you, I said to myself, “That’s the one you need. The original candy kid. The–“‘

His hat lurched drunkenly as he answered the girl’s increase of speed. He cursed it in a brief aside.

‘That’s what I said. “The original candy kid.” So–‘

He shot out a restraining hand. ‘Arthur!’ cried Maud. ‘Arthur!’

‘It’s not my name’ breathed Mr Shute, tenderly. ‘Call me Clarence.’

Considered as an embrace, it was imperfect. At these moments a silk hat a size too small handicaps a man. The necessity of having to be careful about the nap prevented Mr Shute from doing himself complete justice. But he did enough to induce Arthur Welsh, who, having sighted the missing ones from afar, had been approaching them at a walking pace, to substitute a run for the walk, and arrive just as Maud wrenched herself free.

Mr Shute took off his hat, smoothed it, replaced it with extreme care, and turned his attention to the new-comer.

‘Arthur!’ said Maud.

Her heart gave a great leap. There was no mistaking the meaning in the eye that met hers. He cared! He cared!

‘Arthur!’

He took no notice. His face was pale and working. He strode up to Mr Shute.

‘Well?’ he said between his teeth.

An eight-stone-four champion of the world has many unusual experiences in his life, but he rarely encounters men who say ‘Well?’ to him between their teeth. Mr Shute eyed this freak with profound wonder.

‘I’ll teach you to–to kiss young ladies!’

Mr Shute removed his hat again and gave it another brush. This gave him the necessary time for reflection.

‘I don’t need it,’ he said. ‘I’ve graduated.’

‘Put them up!’ hissed Arthur.

Almost a shocked look spread itself over the pugilist’s face. So might Raphael have looked if requested to draw a pavement-picture.

‘You aren’t speaking to ME?’ he said, incredulously.

‘Put them up!’

Maud, trembling from head to foot, was conscious of one overwhelming emotion. She was terrified–yes. But stronger than the terror was the great wave of elation which swept over her. All her doubts had vanished. At last, after weary weeks of uncertainty, Arthur was about to give the supreme proof. He was going to joust for her.