UNSPORTING

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 243, 13 October 1936, Page 19

UNSPORTING

(By G. H. R. WHYBROW.)

THE young mail's breadth of shoulde slim waist, and controlled ease < movement would have made mo: people look twice at him. Sadie McGuir age 22, athlete herself and lover of a things athletic, looked only once. Bi it was a long look. It is possible that Sadie's mother, fs away in tho millinery department, woul haVe thought the look too long ft modesty. Sadie, however, continue looking. The young man came nearer, strollin with a loose-limbed slouch that'so fas einated Sadie that, involuntarily, 1 sli caught his eye. Annoyed with herself, she flushed an turned away to a case of jewelle clocks, only to find that she could sti watch him in the mirror at the bacl He stopped at a counter a' yard or s away, glanced at it, and then gazed noi: chalantly about him. More guardedly Sadie studied him. His clothes were good, she decidec though they had obviously seen bette days. And his suede shoes—Sadie dis liked suede shoes on a man—were rathe down at the heel. She wondered wli he wore a scarf knotted up to the throa 011 such a warm day, not guessing tlia its superfluity might conceal a deficient in another direction. The man's eyes surveyed his palatia surroundings—Whiteridge's is nothin, if not palatial—glanced again at Sadie Then he turned away quickly. # * # » It happened in a split second 'Sadi stared incredulously into the mirrorthen, whipped round and faced the man. "Put that back!" She spoke quickly in a horrified whis ! per. The, young man's left eyebrov went up questioninglyj his. left ham went to his chin and stroked it; bu his right hand remained in his pocket. "I beg your pardon?" "Put that back—that gold cigarette ease—it's in youY pocket—you took i' off that counter just now—it was lyin< there between those two watches.' Sadid spoke . breathlessly, but stil quietly, and she gave the merest no< towards the place to which she referred The young man grinned, and Sadii noticed the whiteness of his • teeth. "American, aren't you?" The question was so unexpected thai Sadie paused for an instant befor< replying. "What's that got to do with it?" sin demanded at last, "Put that case bacl before the salesman comes along, and— and I'll say nothing about it." "Magnanimity—thy name is Sadie McGuire." The young man came clost to her, overtopping her by half a foot He looked down at her, still grinning "What have I done to deserve youi favour?" "How—how dare you!" Sadie's eyes blazed at him. Her mouth and chin I set angrily. I "You. mean, how do I know yout name? Well —I'm interested in sporf —and I've got a good memory." He spoke with a drawl, taking no notice of Sadie's fury. "I've seen your picture dozens of times in the papers," he went on. "If you American women will keep having your picture in the papers, you can't titame me if you're recognised. 'Miss Sadie McGuire, the American short distance champion, who is over here tn represent America in the Anglo-Ameri-can sports.' 'Miss Sadie McGuire. who holds the American women's record for the 100 and 200 metres.' 'Miss Sadie McGuire practising starts at Stamford Bridge. She is expected to beat England's: best.' 'Miss Sadie McGuire. daughter (f the famous millionaire. . " "Ohi shut up. . . Say something," she went 011 a moment later, noticing the approach of a shopwalker. s "Here's someone coming." The man took in the situation, and began ' telling Sadie about himself. "I told you my name, didn't I? Jim Foster. Battling Foster, they call me. I'm. a boxer." He raised his voice as the shopwalker came within earshot. "Curious we should meet here like this, you know. I haven't seen you since that day in Philadelphia last year when you beat Phvllis —or —Petersen by about three millimetres in the short hurdles." Sadie's eyes opened wide. "Were you there? You mean Eva Britton, don't you? But I don't think she was in good form that day." "Hell, 110," said Battling Foster, watching the shopwalker recede. "I wasn't there. But I'm interested in sport, I tell you, and I read these things. And I've got a good memory. Once I've read a thing, it sticks. That's why—" "Are you going to put that cigarettecase back now?" demanded Sadie, making no comment on Battling Foster's memory. "Why should I?" "Weil—it's stealing, isn't it?" Battling Foster laughed aloud. "Oh. that's what's worrying you, is it?" He looked at Sadie, and his eyes narrowed. "How do you think a boxer lives, nowadays? On the profits from his profession? Pah! Why—even when a boxer's ea'rnc'' his money, they go to law and do him out of it. We haven't all got wealthy papas, you know. Miss McGuire, to provide all the cash for our little pleasures. Some of us have to earn penny we get—" "Or steal 'it?" " * Sadie's voice was hard. "Or steal it, as you say. What's your objection to stealing, anyway?" "Well—it's —it's unsporting, and if you don't put that case back, I shall call one of the shopwalkers and tell hijm." Battling Foster shrugged his broad shoulders. "I don't think I should do that, if I were you." "Why not?" "Because the case at the moment is reposing in your coat pocket. No. the other one. I mean, you'd look rather foolish —" "What!" Sadie's hand flew to her pocket. A moment later ft came out holding the cigarette-case. She stared, speechless. "Sleight of hand," explained Battling Foster. "Quite simple when you know how. Give it me arid I'll put it back — just to please you." " Mechanically. Sadie handed him the case and watched him replace it. "That satisfy you?" Foster turned and faced Sadie, leaning backwards negligently, his elbows on the counter. • • • • Sadie nodded. She had been shocked, but now she was puzzled. She was a high-minded young woman, and it had always seemed to her that a love of physical fitness should go with moral honesty. ' It was true that Battling Foster had replaced the cigarette-case at her request. But why? She wished she could think it was repentance. A more likely reason was fear of exposure.

''Do you often steal things?" she asked. "How dare you ask me that!" The Battler glared at her. He was no mean actor, and Sadie had 110 idea of the riot of amusement that lay behind his stern expression. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "I oughtn't to have said that. But —but you won't do it again ?" Battling Foster laughed again. "That's my affair. I'm promising nothing." He stood upright, and coming close to Sadie, took her nearest hand in both of his. He patted it paternally. "Listen. You think I'm unsporting, don't you, stealing things that don't belong to me? I don't think I am. If you can show me it's unsporting for one man to try to outwit a crowd, I won't steal again—ever. "And you don't think I'm nice to know, either, do you ? There, I agree with you. I'm not nice to know. Some of us can't afford to be. One or two of us have never had the chance to be—" He broke off, and his voice, which, though always soft, had taken on a queer intensity, became once more a casual drawl. "But remember this, Hiss McGuire. I only steal when 1 have to; I only take things from those who can affor<l to lose them; and I give them to those who need them." "Meaning yourself?" "Meaning myself—usually." "A—a sort of Raffles." "Scarcely." At that moment a voice broke in from behind Sadie. "I've been looking everywhere for you, child. Where did you get to? You said I should find you in the gowns . . ." Mrs. McGuire caught sight of Battling Foster and stopped in mid-sentence. "But who's your friend, Sadie ?" "Oh . . . this is Mr. Foster, mother. He's a boxer . . . and he knows all about me." "H'm!" Mrs. McGuire gave Battling Foster a shrewd look. "That's quick work." "Oh, we met ages ago, Mrs. M'Guire." The Battler's cheerful grin had returned. "Didn't we. Sadie ? Three years ago in Philadelphia, when Sadie beat Eva — or—Williamson by about four millimetres in the short hurdles. Very fine race. , Well, I'll be getting along. Nice to have met you again. Sadie. And nice to have met you, Mrs. McGuire. Au revoir."

And the next moment, with a wave of the hand, he was gone, moving swiftly but with 110 apparent effort down the aisle between the counters. "Nice feller, Sadie." Mrs. McGuire gazed- at • Battling Foster's back until lie disappeared. "Nice figure, too. I woiider why he doesn't wear socks. And those shoes—still, it's a nice figure." She sighed. "Well, let's go have a cup of coffee, shall we ? I tried on 33 hats and I'm nearly dropping." They were moving away when Mrs. McGuire's eye fell on the gold cigarettecase. She. stopped and pointed "Well, can you beat that? Xjook, Sadie. That case. I bought your dad one exactly like that 2~> years ago. Same shape, same markings. Only it wasn't gold. Why, what's the matter? Sadie! It's quite an ord'nary cigarette-case, isn't it ?" But Sadie was not looking at the case. She was staring at two empty spaces on either side of it—spaces where ten minutes ago she had seen two valuable watches. "Oh, quite ordinary, mums." she said at length. "Well, let's go find that cup of coffee. What's the time? I seem to have been hours among those hats." Sadie glanced at her wrist—then stared unbelievingly. Her own watch, too —a rather neat thing in platinum and diamonds —was gone. *