I knew it all along," said Whipcord, shifting his straw from side to side of his mouth, and glaring at me, half- stupidly, half-ferociously.
"It wasn't, indeed," said I, feeling very uncomfortable.

"I never said a word." Whipcord laughed as he let go my throat and began to take off his coat.
I watched him in amazement.

Surely he was not going to make me fight! I looked round beseechingly on the company, but could get no comfort out of their laughter and merriment.
Whipcord divested himself of his coat, then of his waistcoat, then he took off his necktie and collar, then he let down his braces and tied his handkerchief round his waist in the manner of a belt, and finally proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves above the elbows.
"Now then," said he, advancing towards me in a boxing attitude, "I'll teach you to call me a thief!" I was so utterly taken aback by all this, that I could scarcely believe I was not dreaming.
"I really didn't call you a thief," I said.
"You mean to say you won't fight ?" cried my adversary, sparring up at me.
"Hold hard!" cried Daly, before I could answer.

"Of course he's going to fight; but give him time to peel, man.

Look alive, Batchelor, off with your coat." "I'm not going to fight, indeed," said I, in utter bewilderment.
"Yes you are," said Flanagan, "and it won't be your first go in either, old man.