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Key Technologies in Polymer Chemistry 1st Edition
Nikolay D. Morozkin Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Nikolay D. Morozkin, Vadim P. Zakharov, Gennady E. Zaikov
ISBN(s): 9781771880244, 1771880244
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 24.53 MB
Year: 2015
Language: english
KEY TECHNOLOGIES IN
POLYMER CHEMISTRY
 AAP Research Notes on
Polymer Engineering Science and Technology

KEY TECHNOLOGIES IN
POLYMER CHEMISTRY

Edited by
Nikolay D. Morozkin, DSc,
Vadim P. Zakharov, DSc, and
Gennady E. Zaikov, DSc
CRC Press Apple Academic Press, Inc
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ABOUT THE EDITORS

Nikolay D. Morozkin, DSc

Nikolay D. Morozkin, DSc, is a Professor and Rector at Bashkir State
University in Ufa, Russia. He is an Honored Worker of Russian Higher
Education and an Honored Scientific Worker of the Republic of Bash-
kortostan. He has trained eight candidates of science (PhD) and is author
and co-author of more than 100 scientific works. His area of expertise is
applied mathematics and informatics.

Vadim P. Zakharov, DSc

Vadim P. Zakharov, DSc, is Professor and Vice-Chancellor for Scientific
Work at Bashkir State University in Ufa, Russia. He is a Laureate of the
Russian Government Award in Science and Technology. He has trained
five candidates of science (PhD) and is author and co-author of three
monographs, more than 160 scientific articles, and 11 patents. His area of
expertise is in macrokinetics of high-speed processes in liquid phase and
catalytic polymerization of dienes.

Gennady E. Zaikov, DSc

Gennady E. Zaikov, DSc, is Head of the Polymer Division at the N.
M. Emanuel Institute of Biochemical Physics, Russian Academy of Sci-
ences, Moscow, Russia, and professor at Moscow State Academy of Fine
Chemical Technology, Russia, as well as professor at Kazan National
Research Technological University, Kazan, Russia. He is also a prolific
author, researcher, and lecturer. He has received several awards for his
work, including the the Russian Federation Scholarship for Outstanding
Scientists. He has been a member of many professional organizations
and on the editorial boards of many international science journals.
ABOUT AAP RESEARCH NOTES ON
POLYMER ENGINEERING SCIENCE
AND TECHNOLOGY

The AAP Research Notes on Polymer Engineering Science and Technology re-
ports on research development in different fields for academic institutes and indus-
trial sectors interested in polymer engineering science and technology. The main
objective of this series is to report research progress in this rapidly growing field.

Editor-in-Chief: Sabu Thomas, PhD

Director, School of Chemical Sciences, Professor of Polymer Science & Tech-
nology & Honorary Director of the International and Inter University Centre for
Nanoscience and Nanotechnology, Mahatma Gandhi University, Kottayam, India
email: [email protected]

Editorial Board

Alberto D’Amore, DSc

Department of Aerospace and Mechanical Engineering, The Second University
of Naples, Italy

Devrim Balköse, PhD

Professor, Izmir Polytechnic Institute, Turkey

Nekane Guarrotxena, PhD

Institute of Polymer Science and Technology (ICTP), Spanish National Research
Council (CSIC), Madrid, Spain

Abbas Hamrang, PhD

Professor and Senior Polymer Scientist, Manchester, UK; Independent Polymer
Consultant

Alfonso Jimenez, PhD

Professor of Analytical Chemistry and Materials Science, University of Alicante,
Spain

Gennady E. Zaikov, DSc

Head, Polymer Division, N. M. Emanuel Institute of Biochemical Physics,
Russian Academy of Sciences; Professor, Moscow State Academy of Fine Chem-
ical Technology, Russia; Professor, Kazan National Research Technological Uni-
versity, Kazan, Russia
BOOKS IN THE AAP RESEARCH
NOTES ON POLYMER ENGINEERING
SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY SERIES

• F
 unctional Polymer Blends and Nanocomposites: A Practical
Engineering Approach
Editors: Gennady E. Zaikov, DSc, Liliya I. Bazylak, PhD,
and A. K. Haghi, PhD

• P
 olymer Surfaces and Interfaces: Acid-Base Interactions and
Adhesion in Polymer-Metal Systems
Irina A. Starostina, DSc, Oleg V. Stoyanov, DSc,
and Rustam Ya. Deberdeev, DSc

• K
 ey Technologies in Polymer Chemistry
Editors: Nikolay D. Morozkin, DSc, Vadim P. Zakharov, DSc, and
Gennady E. Zaikov, DSc

• P
 olymers and Polymeric Composites: Properties, Optimization,
and Applications
Editors: Liliya I. Bazylak, PhD, Gennady E. Zaikov, DSc,
and A. K. Haghi, PhD

• H
 igh-Performance Polymers for Engineering-Based
Composites
Editors: Omari V. Mukbaniani, DSc, Marc J. M. Abadie, DSc, and
Tamara Tatrishvili, PhD
CONTENTS

List of Contributors................................................................................... xiii

List of Abbreviations................................................................................ xvii
List of Symbols.......................................................................................... xix
Preface...................................................................................................... xxi
PART I: MATERIALS WITH IMPROVED PROPERTIES AT
SYNTHESIS AND MODIFICATION OF POLYMERS
1. Peculiarities of Methanofullerene Structure Revealed by
UV-Spectroscopy.......................................................................................... 3
Yu. N. Biglova

2. Biodegradable Polymer Films on Low Density Polyethylene,

Modified Chitosan...................................................................................... 13
M. V. Bazunova, and R. M. Akhmetkhanov

3. Chemical Modification of Syndiotactic 1,2-Polybutadiene.................... 21

A. B. Glazyrin, M. I. Abdullin, O. S. Kukovinets, and A. A. Basyrov

4. Approach to Creating Prolonged Drugs on Carbon-Polymer Basis..... 41

M. V. Bazunova and S. V. Kolesov

5. Usage of Speed Sedimentation Method for Enzyme Degradation of

Chitosan...................................................................................................... 47
E. I. Kulish, V. V. Chernova, S. V. Kolesov, and I. F. Tuktarova

6. Studying of Antibiotics Release from Medicinal Chitosan Films.......... 57

E. I. Kulish and A. S. Shurshina

7. Features of Enzymatic Destruction of Chitosan in Acetic

Acid Solution.............................................................................................. 65
E. I. Kulish, I. F. Tuktarova, and V. V. Chernova
x Contents

PART II: NEW METHODS FOR THE SYNTHESIS OF ISOPRENE—

MONOMER FOR THE PRODUCTION OF ISOPRENE RUBBER
8. Quantum-Chemistry Study of the Formation Mechanism of
Hydrogenated Furans in Trifluoroacetic Acid by Prins Reaction......... 75
I. V. Vakulin, R. R. Syrlybaeva, R. F. Talipov, G. R. Talipova, R. R. Faizullina,
and A. V. Allagulova

9. Theoretical Investigation of 1,3-Dioxanes Formation in Prins

Reaction by Addition of Formaldehyde Oligomers to Alkenes.............. 91
I. V. Vakulin, R. F. Talipov, O. Yu. Kupova, G. R. Talipova, A. V. Allagulova,
and R. R. Faizullina

10. Quantum-Chemistry Study of the Features of Participation of

Formaldehyde Oligomers in Prins Reaction......................................... 101
I. V. Vakulin, R. F. Talipov, O. Yu. Kupova, G. R. Talipova, A. V. Allagulova,
and R. R. Faizullina

11. Quantum Chemical Investigation of Features of Formation of

O-Containing Heterocycles by Prins Reaction ..................................... 117
I. V. Vakulin, R. F. Talipov, O. Yu. Kupova, G. R. Talipova, A. V. Allagulova, and
R. R. Faizullina

PART III: NEW TECHNOLOGICAL SOLUTIONS IN THE

PRODUCTION OF POLYMERS
12. Modification of a Neodymium Catalyst for Synthesis Polyisoprene... 131
V. P. Zakharov, V. Z. Mingaleev, E. M. Zakharova, I. D. Zakirova, and L. A. Murzina

13. Oil Neutralization in Turbulent Microreactor...................................... 141

F. B. Shevlyakov, T. G. Umergalin, V. P. Zakharov, I. D. Zakirova, and
E. M. Zakharova

14. Processing of Black Sulfuric Acid to Give the Desired Products......... 151
T. V. Sharipov, A. G. Mustafin, R. N. Gimaev, F. Kh. Kudasheva, and
A. D. Badikova

15. Study of Chromium Complexation of Diphenyl Carbazide on

Activated Carbon Fiber Surface............................................................. 159
A. V. Grigoryeva, E. R. Valinurova, F. Kh. Kudasheva, I. M. Kamaltdinov,
M. V. Mavletov, and I. Sh. Ahatov

16. Band Structure of Solid Solutions of Copper and Silver

Chalcogenides........................................................................................... 167
R. A. Yakshibaev, A. D. Davletshina, N. N. Bikkulova, and G. R. Akmanova
 Contents xi

17. Interaction of a Pair of Impurities and Kinks in the Sine-Gordon

Equation.................................................................................................... 175
E. G. Ekomasov, and A. M. Gumerov

18. Voltammetric Electronic Tongue Application for Identification

of Mineral Oils.......................................................................................... 189
A. V. Sidelnikov, D. M. Bikmeev, F. Kh. Kudasheva, and V. N. Maystrenko

PART IV: BIOLOGICALLY ACTIVE SUBSTANCES SUCH AS

INHIBITORS OF THE CATALYTIC ACTIVITY OF BIOPOLYMERS
19. The Study of Structure–Antiarrhythmic Activity Relationship of
Biological Activity Compounds Using SAR-Methodology................... 199
V. R. Khairullina, A. Ya. Gerchikov, and F. S. Zarydiy

20. Research of Medicine Structural Descriptors for Treatment of

MCF-7 Ductal Invacive Breast Carcinoma........................................... 211
V. R. Khairullina, A. Ya. Gerchikov, M. N. Vasilyev, and F. S. Zarudiy

21. Computer Modeling of “Structure – Antitumor Activity”

Relationship Using SAR-Techniques and QSAR-Methodology.......... 225
V. R. Khayrullina, A. Ya. Gerchikov, M. N. Vasiliev, I. A. Taipov, and F. S. Zarudiy

22. Virtual Screening of Natural and Synthetic 5-Lipoxygenase

Inhibitors.................................................................................................. 245
A. Ya. Gerchikov, V. R. Khairullina, I. A. Taipov, and F. S. Zarydiy

23. Kinetics of Liquid-Phase Oxidation of Polyvinyl Alcohol.................... 265

Yu. S. Zimin, I. M. Borisov, and A. G. Mustafin

24. Activity of Hydrolytic Enzymes of Basidiomycetes According to

their Trophic Features............................................................................. 287
I. A. Shpirnaya, V. O. Tsvetkov, Z. A. Berezhneva, and R. I. Ibragimov

Index........................................................................................................... 295
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

M. I. Abdullin
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
I. Sh. Ahatov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
R. M. Akhmetkhanov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
G. R. Akmanova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Russia
A.V. Allagulova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. D. Badikova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. A. Basyrov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
M. V. Bazunova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
Z. A. Berezhneva
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
Yu. N. Biglova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
N. N. Bikkulova
Sterlitamak branch of Bashkir State University, 37 Lenin Avenue, Sterlitamak 453103, Russia
D. M. Bikmeev
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
I. M. Borisov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Russia
V. V. Chernova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. D. Davletshina
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Russia
E. G. Ekomasov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
xiv List of Contributors

R. R. Faizullina
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. Ya. Gerchikov
Bashkir State University, ul. ZakiValidy 32, Ufa, Bashkortostan, 450076, Russia
R. N. Gimaev
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. B. Glazyrin
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. V. Grigoryeva
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. M. Gumerov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
R. I. Ibragimov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
I. M. Kamaltdinov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
V. R. Khairullina
Bashkir State University, ul. ZakiValidy 32, Ufa, Bashkortostan, 450076, Russia
S. V. Kolesov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
F. Kh. Kudasheva
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
O. S. Kukovinets
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
E. I. Kulish
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
O. Yu. Kupova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
M. V. Mavletov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
V. N. Maystrenko
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
V. Z. Mingaleev
Institute of Organic Chemistry, Ufa Scientific Center of Russian Academy of Sciences, pr. Oktyabrya
71, Ufa, Bashkortostan, 450054, Russia
L. A. Murzina
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. G. Mustafin
List of Contributors xv

Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia

T. V. Sharipov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
F. B. Shevlyakov
Ufa State Petroleum Technical University, 1Kosmonavtov St. Ufa, 45006, Russia
I. A. Shpirnaya
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. S. Shurshina
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
A. V. Sidelnikov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
R. R. Syrlybaeva
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
I. A. Taipov
Institute of Organic Chemistry, Ufa Scientific Center of Russian Academy of Sciences, pr. Oktyabrya
71, Ufa, Bashkortostan, 450054, Russia
R. F. Talipov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
G. R. Talipova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
V. O. Tsvetkov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
I.F. Tuktarova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
T. G. Umergalin
Ufa State Petroleum Technical University,1 Kosmonavtov St. Ufa, 45006, Russia
I. V. Vakulin
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr.32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
E. R. Valinurova
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
M. N. Vasilyev
Bashkir Medical University, 3 Lenin Str., 450000, Ufa, Russia
R. A. Yakshibaev
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Russia
V. P. Zakharov
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Bashkortostan, Russia
E. M. Zakharova
Institute of Organic Chemistry, Ufa Scientific Center of Russian Academy of Sciences, pr. Oktyabrya
71, Ufa, Bashkortostan, 450054, Russia
xvi List of Contributors

I. D. Zakirova
Institute of Organic Chemistry, Ufa Scientific Center of Russian Academy of Sciences, pr. Oktyabrya
71, Ufa, Bashkortostan, 450054, Russia
F. S. Zarudiy
Institute of Organic Chemistry of Ufa Research Centre of the Russian Academy of Sciences, 71 Pros-
pektOctyabrya, 450054, Ufa, Republic of Bashkortostan, Russia
F. S. Zarydiy
Bashkir State University, ul. ZakiValidy 32, Ufa, Bashkortostan, 450076, Russia
Yu. S. Zimin
Bashkir State University, ZakiValidiStr. 32, Ufa, 450076, Russia
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

AAA Antiarrhythmic Activity

AAT Antiarrhythmic Therapy
AFM Atomic Force Microscope
AMS Amikacin Sulfate
CMC Carboxymethylcellulose
CPE Carbon-Paste Electrodes
DSD Deciding Set of Descriptor
EDP Electric Desalting Plant
FC Frozen Core
FD Fragment Descriptors
FO Formaldehyde Oligomers
FP-LMTO Full-Potential Linear Muffin-Tin Orbital
GMS Gentamicin Sulfate
GUSAR General Unrestricted Structure Activity
Relationships
LDA Local Density Approximation
LMO Leave Many Out
MNA Multilevel Neighborhoods of Atoms
PCM Polarizable Continuum Model
PVA Polyvinyl Alcohol
QNA Quantitative Neighborhoods of Atoms
SARD Structure Activity Relationship and Design
SIMCA Soft Independent Modeling of Class Analogy
SPR Structure-Property Relationship
LIST OF SYMBOLS

a effective parameters
Ahi hydrodynamic invariant
C sign (activity)
ced concentration of chitosan
d diameter
D diffusion constants
F rules of recognition
g slope of the line
k effective speed constant
k2 decay constant of the enzyme
L length
n1 number of structures in the inactive compound
NA Avogadro number
Npair number of unshared electron pairs
Nval number of valence electrons
Nсore number of core electrons
R gas constant
S0 sedimentation constant
Sс extrapolation on the zero concentration
T absolute temperature
t time
v partial specific gravity
w speed
W width of the spatial modulation
x maximum coordinate
x0 centre coordinate of the solution
x1 kink
ρ density
σ tensile strength
γ alkylsubstitutedcations
ζ coefficient of local resistance
δ(x) dirac delta function
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 I looked at Ukridge with concern. Was this the hero of Marseilles,
the man who cleaned out bar-rooms and on whom undertakers
fawned? Diffident was the only word to describe our Battler’s
behaviour in that opening round. He pawed lightly at his antagonist.
He embraced him like a brother. He shuffled about the ring,
innocuous.

“What’s the matter with him?” I asked.

“He always starts slow,” said Ukridge, but his concern was
manifest. He fumbled nervously at the buttons of his mackintosh.
The referee was warning Battling Billson, He was speaking to him
like a disappointed father. In the cheaper and baser parts of the
house enraged citizens were whistling “Comrades.” Everywhere a
chill had fallen on the house. That first fine fresh enthusiasm had
died away, and the sounding of the gong for the end of the round
was greeted with censorious cat-calls. As Mr. Billson lurched back to
his corner, frank unfriendliness was displayed on all sides.

With the opening of the second round considerably more spirit

was introduced into the affair. The same strange torpidity still held
our Battler in its grip, but his opponent was another man. During
round one he had seemed a little nervous and apprehensive. He had
behaved as if he considered it prudent not to stir Mr. Billson. But
now this distaste for direct action had left him. There was jauntiness
in his demeanour as he moved to the centre of the ring; and, having
reached it, he uncoiled a long left and smote Mr. Billson forcefully on
the nose. Twice he smote him, and twice Mr. Billson blinked like one
who has had bad news from home. The man who had had a lot of
trouble leaned sideways and brought his right fist squarely against
the Battler’s ear.

All was forgotten and forgiven. A moment before the audience had
been solidly anti-Billson. Now they were as unanimously pro. For
these blows, while they appeared to have affected him not at all
physically, seemed to have awakened Mr. Billson’s better feelings as
if somebody had turned on a tap. They had aroused in Mr. Billson’s
soul that zest for combat which had been so sadly to seek in round
one. For an instant after the receipt of that buffet on the ear the
Battler stood motionless on his flat feet, apparently in deep thought.
Then, with the air of one who has suddenly remembered an
important appointment, he plunged forward. Like an animated
windmill he cast himself upon the bloke of troubles. He knocked him
here, he bounced him there. He committed mayhem upon his
person. He did everything to him that a man can do who is
hampered with boxing-gloves, until presently the troubled one was
leaning heavily against the ropes, his head hanging dazedly, his
whole attitude that of a man who would just as soon let the matter
drop. It only remained for the Battler to drive home the final punch,
and a hundred enthusiasts, rising to their feet, were pointing out to
him desirable locations for it.

But once more that strange diffidence had descended upon our
representative. While every other man in the building seemed to
know the correct procedure and was sketching it out in nervous
English, Mr. Billson appeared the victim of doubt. He looked
uncertainly at his opponent and enquiringly at the referee.

The referee, obviously a man of blunted sensibilities, was

unresponsive. Do It Now was plainly his slogan. He was a business
man, and he wanted his patrons to get good value for their money.
He was urging Mr. Billson to make a thorough job of it. And finally
Mr. Billson approached his man and drew back his right arm. Having
done this, he looked over his shoulder once more at the referee.

It was a fatal blunder. The man who had had a lot of trouble may
have been in poor shape, but, like most of his profession, he
retained, despite his recent misadventures, a reserve store of
energy. Even as Mr. Billson turned his head, he reached down to the
floor with his gloved right hand, then, with a final effort, brought it
up in a majestic sweep against the angle of the other’s jaw. And
then, as the fickle audience, with swift change of sympathy, cheered
him on, he buried his left in Mr. Billson’s stomach on the exact spot
where the well-dressed man wears the third button of his waistcoat.

Of all human experiences this of being smitten in this precise

locality is the least agreeable. Battling Billson drooped like a stricken
flower, settled slowly down, and spread himself out. He lay
peacefully on his back with outstretched arms like a man floating in
smooth water. His day’s work was done.

A wailing cry rose above the din of excited patrons of sport

endeavouring to explain to their neighbours how it had all
happened. It was the voice of Ukridge mourning over his dead.

At half-past eleven that night, as I was preparing for bed, a

drooping figure entered my room. I mixed a silent, sympathetic
Scotch and soda, and for awhile no word was spoken.

“How is the poor fellow?” I asked at length.

“He’s all right,” said Ukridge, listlessly. “I left him eating fish and
chips at a coffee-stall.”

“Bad luck his getting pipped on the post like that.”

“Bad luck!” boomed Ukridge, throwing off his lethargy with a

vigour that spoke of mental anguish. “What do you mean, bad luck?
It was just dam’ bone-headedness. Upon my Sam, it’s a little hard. I
invest vast sums in this man, I support him in luxury for two weeks,
asking nothing of him in return except to sail in and knock
somebody’s head off, which he could have done in two minutes if he
had liked, and he lets me down purely and simply because the other
fellow told him that he had been up all night looking after his wife
who had burned her hand at the jam factory. Inferanal
sentimentalism!”

“Does him credit,” I argued.

 “Bah!”

“Kind hearts,” I urged, “are more than coronets.”

“Who the devil wants a pugilist to have a kind heart? What’s the
use of this man Billson being able to knock out an elephant if he’s
afflicted with this damned maudlin mushiness? Who ever heard of a
mushy pugilist? It’s the wrong spirit. It doesn’t make for success.”

“It’s a handicap, of course,” I admitted.

“What guarantee have I,” demanded Ukridge, “that if I go to

enormous trouble and expense getting him another match, he won’t
turn aside and brush away a silent tear in the first round because
he’s heard that the blighter’s wife has got an ingrowing toenail?”

“You could match him only against bachelors.”

“Yes, and the first bachelor he met would draw him into a corner
and tell him his aunt was down with whooping-cough, and the
chump would heave a sigh and stick his chin out to be walloped. A
fellow’s got no business to have red hair if he isn’t going to live up to
it. And yet,” said Ukridge, wistfully, “I’ve seen that man—it was in a
dance-hall at Naples—I’ve seen him take on at least eleven Italians
simultaneously. But then, one of them had stuck a knife about three
inches into his leg. He seems to need something like that to give him
ambition.”

“I don’t see how you are going to arrange to have him knifed just
before each fight.”

“No,” said Ukridge, mournfully.

“What are you going to do about his future? Have you any plans?”

“Nothing definite. My aunt was looking for a companion to attend

to her correspondence and take care of the canary last time I saw
her. I might try to get the job for him.”

And with a horrid, mirthless laugh Stanley Featherstonehaugh

Ukridge borrowed five shillings and passed out into the night.

I did not see Ukridge for the next few days, but I had news of him
from our mutual friend George Tupper, whom I met prancing in
uplifted mood down Whitehall.

“I say,” said George Tupper without preamble, and with a sort of

dazed fervour, “they’ve given me an under-secretaryship.”

I pressed his hand. I would have slapped him on the back, but
one does not slap the backs of eminent Foreign Office officials in
Whitehall in broad daylight, even if one has been at school with
them.

“Congratulations,” I said. “There is no one whom I would more

gladly see under-secretarying. I heard rumours of this from Ukridge.”

“Oh, yes, I remember I told him it might be coming off. Good old
Ukridge! I met him just now and told him the news, and he was
delighted.”

“How much did he touch you for?”

“Eh? Oh, only five pounds. Till Saturday. He expects to have a lot
of money by then.”

“Did you ever know the time when Ukridge didn’t expect to have a
lot of money?”

“I want you and Ukridge to come and have a bit of dinner with me
to celebrate. How would Wednesday suit you?”

“Splendidly.”

“Seven-thirty at the Regent Grill, then. Will you tell Ukridge?”

 “I don’t know where he’s got to. I haven’t seen him for nearly a
week. Did he tell you where he was?”

“Out at some place at Barnes. What was the name of it?”

“The White Hart?”

“That’s it.”

“Tell me,” I said, “how did he seem? Cheerful?”

“Very. Why?”

“The last time I saw him he was thinking of giving up the struggle.
He had had reverses.”

I proceeded to the White Hart immediately after lunch. The fact

that Ukridge was still at that hostelry and had regained his usual
sunny outlook on life seemed to point to the fact that the clouds
enveloping the future of Mr. Billson had cleared away, and that the
latter’s hat was still in the ring. That this was so was made clear to
me directly I arrived. Enquiring for my old friend, I was directed to
an upper room, from which, as I approached, there came a peculiar
thudding noise. It was caused, as I perceived on opening the door,
by Mr. Billson. Clad in flannel trousers and a sweater, he was
earnestly pounding a large leather object suspended from a wooden
platform. His manager, seated on a soap-box in a corner, regarded
him the while with affectionate proprietorship.

“Hallo, old horse!” said Ukridge, rising as I entered. “Glad to see

you.”

The din of Mr. Billson’s bag-punching, from which my arrival had

not caused him to desist, was such as to render conversation
difficult. We moved to the quieter retreat of the bar downstairs,
where I informed Ukridge of the under-secretary’s invitation.
 “I’ll be there,” said Ukridge. “There’s one thing about good old
Billson, you can trust him not to break training if you take your eye
off him. And, of course, he realises that this is a big thing. It’ll be the
making of him.”

“Your aunt is considering engaging him, then?”

“My aunt? What on earth are you talking about? Collect yourself,
laddie.”

“When you left me you were going to try to get him the job of
looking after your aunt’s canary.”

“Oh, I was feeling rather sore then. That’s all over. I had an
earnest talk with the poor zimp, and he means business from now
on. And so he ought to, dash it, with a magnificent opportunity like
this.”

“Like what?”

“We’re on to a big thing now, laddie, the dickens of a big thing.”

“I hope you’ve made sure the other man’s a bachelor. Who is he?”

“Tod Bingham.”

“Tod Bingham?” I groped in my memory. “You don’t mean the

middle-weight champion?”

“That’s the fellow.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that you’ve got a match on with a

champion already?”

“It isn’t exactly a match. It’s like this. Tod Bingham is going round
the East-end halls offering two hundred quid to anyone who’ll stay
four rounds with him. Advertisement stuff. Good old Billson is going
to unleash himself at the Shoreditch Empire next Saturday.”
 “Do you think he’ll be able to stay four rounds?”

“Stay four rounds!” cried Ukridge. “Why, he could stay four rounds
with a fellow armed with a Gatling-gun and a couple of pickaxes.
That money’s as good as in our pockets, laddie. And once we’re
through with this job, there isn’t a boxing-place in England that
won’t jump at us. I don’t mind telling you in confidence, old horse,
that in a year from now I expect to be pulling in hundreds a week.
Clean up a bit here first, you know, and then pop over to America
and make an enormous fortune. Damme, I shan’t know how to
spend the money!”

“Why not buy some socks? I’m running a bit short of them.”

“Now, laddie, laddie,” said Ukridge, reprovingly, “need we strike a

jarring note? Is this the moment to fling your beastly socks in an old
friend’s face? A broader-minded spirit is what I would like to see.”

I was ten minutes late in arriving at the Regent Grill on the

Wednesday of George Tupper’s invitation, and the spectacle of
George in person standing bare-headed at the Piccadilly entrance
filled me with guilty remorse. George was the best fellow in the
world, but the atmosphere of the Foreign Office had increased the
tendency he had always had from boyhood to a sort of precise
fussiness, and it upset him if his affairs did not run exactly on
schedule. The thought that my unpunctuality should have marred
this great evening sent me hurrying towards him full of apologies.

“Oh, there you are,” said George Tupper. “I say, it’s too bad——”

“I’m awfully sorry. My watch——”

“Ukridge!” cried George Tupper, and I perceived that it was not I

who had caused his concern.

“Isn’t he coming?” I asked, amazed. The idea of Ukridge evading a

free meal was one of those that seem to make the solid foundations
of the world rock.

“He’s come. And he’s brought a girl with him!”

“A girl!”

“In pink, with yellow hair,” wailed George Tupper. “What am I to

do?”

I pondered the point.

“It’s a weird thing for even Ukridge to have done,” I said, “but I
suppose you’ll have to give her dinner.”

“But the place is full of people I know, and this girl’s so—so
spectacular.”

I felt for him deeply, but I could see no way out of it.

“You don’t think I could say I had been taken ill?”

“It would hurt Ukridge’s feelings.”

“I should enjoy hurting Ukridge’s feelings, curse him!” said George

Tupper, fervently.

“And it would be an awful slam for the girl, whoever she is.”

George Tupper sighed. His was a chivalrous nature. He drew

himself up as if bracing himself for a dreadful ordeal.

“Oh, well, I suppose there’s nothing to do,” he said. “Come along.

I left them drinking cocktails in the lounge.”

George had not erred in describing Ukridge’s addition to the

festivities as spectacular. Flamboyant would have been a suitable
word. As she preceded us down the long dining-room, her arm
linked in George Tupper’s—she seemed to have taken a liking to
George—I had ample opportunity for studying her, from her patent-
leather shoes to the mass of golden hair beneath her picture-hat.
She had a loud, clear voice, and she was telling George Tupper the
rather intimate details of an internal complaint which had recently
troubled an aunt of hers. If George had been the family physician,
she could not have been franker; and I could see a dull glow
spreading over his shapely ears.

Perhaps Ukridge saw it, too, for he seemed to experience a slight

twinge of conscience.

“I have an idea, laddie,” he whispered, “that old Tuppy is a trifle

peeved at my bringing Flossie along. If you get a chance, you might
just murmur to him that it was military necessity.”

“Who is she?” I asked.

“I told you about her. Flossie, the barmaid at the Crown in

Kennington. Billson’s fiancée.”

I looked at him in amazement.

“Do you mean to tell me that you’re courting death by flirting with
Battling Billson’s girl?”

“My dear old man, nothing like that,” said Ukridge, shocked. “The
whole thing is, I’ve got a particular favour to ask of her—rather a
rummy request—and it was no good springing it on her in cold
blood. There had to be a certain amount of champagne in advance,
and my funds won’t run to champagne. I’m taking her on to the
Alhambra after dinner. I’ll look you up to-night and tell you all about
it.”

We then proceeded to dine. It was not one of the pleasantest

meals of my experience. The future Mrs. Billson prattled agreeably
throughout, and Ukridge assisted her in keeping the conversation
alive; but the shattered demeanour of George Tupper would have
taken the sparkle out of any banquet. From time to time he pulled
himself together and endeavoured to play the host, but for the most
part he maintained a pale and brooding silence; and it was a relief
when Ukridge and his companion rose to leave.

“Well!——” began George Tupper in a strangled voice, as they

moved away down the aisle.

I lit a cigar and sat back dutifully to listen.

Ukridge arrived in my rooms at midnight, his eyes gleaming

through their pince-nez with a strange light. His manner was
exuberant.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Did you explain to Tuppy?”

“I didn’t get a chance. He was talking too hard.”

“About me?”

“Yes. He said everything I’ve always felt about you, only far, far
better than I could ever have put it.”

Ukridge’s face clouded for a moment, but cheerfulness returned.

“Oh, well, it can’t be helped. He’ll simmer down in a day or two. It

had to be done, laddie. Life and death matter. And it’s all right. Read
this.”

I took the letter he handed me. It was written in a scrawly hand.

“What’s this?”

“Read it, laddie. I think it will meet the case.” I read.

 “‘Wilberforce.’”

“Who on earth’s Wilberforce?”

“I told you that was Billson’s name.”

“Oh, yes.”

I returned to the letter.

“Wilberforce,—
“I take my pen in hand to tell you that I can never be yours.
You will no doubt be surprised to hear that I love another and a
better man, so that it can never be. He loves me, and he is a better
man than you.

“Hoping this finds you in the pink as it leaves me at present,

“Yours faithfully,
“Florence Burns.”

“I told her to keep it snappy,” said Ukridge.

“Well, she’s certainly done it,” I replied, handing back the letter.
“I’m sorry. From the little I saw of her, I thought her a nice girl—for
Billson. Do you happen to know the other man’s address? Because it
would be a kindly act to send him a post card advising him to leave
England for a year or two.”

“The Shoreditch Empire will find him this week.”

“What!”

“The other man is Tod Bingham.”

“Tod Bingham!” The drama of the situation moved me. “Do you
mean to say that Tod Bingham is in love with Battling Billson’s girl?”
 “No. He’s never seen her!”

“What do you mean?”

Ukridge sat down creakingly on the sofa. He slapped my knee with

sudden and uncomfortable violence.

“Laddie,” said Ukridge, “I will tell you all. Yesterday afternoon I

found old Billson reading a copy of the Daily Sportsman. He isn’t
much of a reader as a rule, so I was rather interested to know what
had gripped him. And do you know what it was, old horse?”

“I do not.”

“It was an article about Tod Bingham. One of those damned

sentimental blurbs they print about pugilists nowadays, saying what
a good chap he was in private life and how he always sent a
telegram to his old mother after each fight and gave her half the
purse. Damme, there ought to be a censorship of the Press. These
blighters don’t mind what they print. I don’t suppose Tod Bingham
has got an old mother, and if he has I’ll bet he doesn’t give her a
bob. There were tears in that chump Billson’s eyes as he showed me
the article. Salt tears, laddie! ‘Must be a nice feller!’ he said. Well, I
ask you! I mean to say, it’s a bit thick when the man you’ve been
pouring out money for and watching over like a baby sister starts
getting sorry for a champion three days before he’s due to fight him.
A champion, mark you! It was bad enough his getting mushy about
that fellow at Wonderland, but when it came to being soft-hearted
over Tod Bingham something had to be done. Well, you know me.
Brain like a buzz-saw. I saw the only way of counteracting this
pernicious stuff was to get him so mad with Tod Bingham that he
would forget all about his old mother, so I suddenly thought: Why
not get Flossie to pretend that Bingham had cut him out with her?
Well, it’s not the sort of thing you can ask a girl to do without
preparing the ground a bit, so I brought her along to Tuppy’s dinner.
It was a master-stroke, laddie. There’s nothing softens the
delicately-nurtured like a good dinner, and there’s no denying that
old Tuppy did us well. She agreed the moment I put the thing to her,
and sat down and wrote that letter without a blink. I think she thinks
it’s all a jolly practical joke. She’s a light-hearted girl.”

“Must be.”

“It’ll give poor old Billson a bit of a jar for the time being, I
suppose, but it’ll make him spread himself on Saturday night, and
he’ll be perfectly happy on Sunday morning when she tells him she
didn’t mean it and he realises that he’s got a hundred quid of Tod
Bingham’s in his trousers pocket.”

“I thought you said it was two hundred quid that Bingham was
offering.”

“I get a hundred,” said Ukridge, dreamily.

“The only flaw is, the letter doesn’t give the other man’s name.
How is Billson to know it’s Tod Bingham?”

“Why, damme, laddie, do use your intelligence. Billson isn’t going

to sit and yawn when he gets that letter. He’ll buzz straight down to
Kennington and ask Flossie.”

“And then she will give the whole thing away.”

“No, she won’t. I slipped her a couple of quid to promise she

wouldn’t. And that reminds me, old man, it has left me a bit short,
so if you could possibly manage——”

“Good night,” I said.

“But, laddie——”

“And God bless you,” I added, firmly.

 The Shoreditch Empire is a roomy house, but it was crowded to
the doors when I reached it on the Saturday night. In normal
circumstances I suppose there would always have been a large
audience on a Saturday, and this evening the lure of Tod Bingham’s
personal appearance had drawn more than capacity. In return for my
shilling I was accorded the privilege of standing against the wall at
the back, a position from which I could not see a great deal of the
performance.

From the occasional flashes which I got of the stage between the
heads of my neighbours, however, and from the generally restless
and impatient attitude of the audience I gathered that I was not
missing much. The programme of the Shoreditch Empire that week
was essentially a one-man affair. The patrons had the air of suffering
the preliminary acts as unavoidable obstacles that stand between
them and the head-liner. It was Tod Bingham whom they had come
to see, and they were not cordial to the unfortunate serio-comics,
tramp cyclists, jugglers, acrobats, and ballad singers who intruded
themselves during the earlier part of the evening. The cheer that
arose as the curtain fell on a dramatic sketch came from the heart,
for the next number on the programme was that of the star.

A stout man in evening dress with a red handkerchief worn

ambassadorially athwart his shirt-front stepped out from the wings.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

“’Ush!” cried the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

A Voice: “Good ole Tod!” (“Cheese it!”)

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the ambassador for the third time.
He scanned the house apprehensively. “Deeply regret have
unfortunate disappointment to announce. Tod Bingham
unfortunately unable to appear before you to-night.”
 A howl like the howl of wolves balked of their prey or of an
amphitheatre full of Roman citizens on receipt of the news that the
supply of lions had run out greeted these words. We stared at each
other with a wild surmise. Could this thing be, or was it not too thick
for human belief?

“Wot’s the matter with ’im?” demanded the gallery, hoarsely.

“Yus, wot’s the matter with ’im?” echoed we of the better element
on the lower floor.

The ambassador sidled uneasily towards the prompt entrance. He

seemed aware that he was not a popular favourite.

“’E ’as ’ad an unfortunate accident,” he declared, nervousness

beginning to sweep away his aitches wholesale. “On ’is way ’ere to
this ’all ’e was unfortunately run into by a truck, sustaining bruises
and contusions which render ’im unfortunately unable to appear
before you to-night. I beg to announce that ’is place will be taken by
Professor Devine, who will render ’is marvellous imitations of various
birds and familiar animals. Ladies and gentlemen,” concluded the
ambassador, stepping nimbly off the stage, “I thank you one and
all.”

The curtain rose and a dapper individual with a waxed moustache

skipped on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my first imitation will be of that well-

known songster, the common thrust—better known to some of you
per’aps as the throstle. And in connection with my performance I
wish to state that I ’ave nothing whatsoever in my mouth. The
effects which I produce——”

I withdrew, and two-thirds of the audience started to do the

same. From behind us, dying away as the doors closed, came the
plaintive note of the common thrush feebly competing with that
other and sterner bird which haunts those places of entertainment
where audiences are critical and swift to take offence.

Out in the street a knot of Shoreditch’s younger set were hanging

on the lips of an excited orator in a battered hat and trousers which
had been made for a larger man. Some stirring tale which he was
telling held them spell-bound. Words came raggedly through the
noise of the traffic.

“——like this. Then ’e ’its ’im another like that. Then they start—
on the side of the jor——”

“Pass along, there,” interrupted an official voice. “Come on, there,

pass along.”

The crowd thinned and resolved itself into its elements. I found
myself moving down the street in company with the wearer of the
battered hat. Though we had not been formally introduced, he
seemed to consider me a suitable recipient for his tale. He enrolled
me at once as a nucleus for a fresh audience.

“’E comes up, this bloke does, just as Tod is goin’ in at the stage-
door——”

“Tod?” I queried.

“Tod Bingham. ’E comes up just as ’e’s goin’ in at the stage-door,

and ’e says ‘’Ere!’ and Tod says ‘Yus?’ and this bloke ’e says ‘Put ’em
up!’ and Tod says ‘Put wot up?’ and this bloke says ‘Yer ’ands,’ and
Tod says ‘Wot, me?’—sort of surprised. An’ the next minute they’re
fightin’ all over the shop.”

“But surely Tod Bingham was run over by a truck?”

The man in the battered hat surveyed me with the mingled scorn
and resentment which the devout bestow on those of heretical
views.
 “Truck! ’E wasn’t run over by no truck. Wot mikes yer fink ’e was
run over by a truck? Wot ’ud ’e be doin’ bein’ run over by a truck? ’E
’ad it put across ’im by this red-’eaded bloke, same as I’m tellin’ yer.”

A great light shone upon me.

“Red-headed?” I cried.

“Yus.”

“A big man?”

“Yus.”

“And he put it across Tod Bingham?”

“Put it across ’im proper. ’Ad to go ’ome in a keb, Tod did. Funny a
bloke that could fight like that bloke could fight ’adn’t the sense to
go and do it on the stige and get some money for it. That’s wot I
think.”

Across the street an arc-lamp shed its cold rays. And into its glare
there strode a man draped in a yellow mackintosh. The light
gleamed on his pince-nez and lent a gruesome pallor to his set face.
It was Ukridge retreating from Moscow.

“Others,” I said, “are thinking the same.”

And I hurried across the road to administer what feeble

consolation I might. There are moments when a fellow needs a
friend.
CHAPTER IV
 FIRST AID FOR DORA

Never in the course of a long and intimate acquaintance having

been shown any evidence to the contrary, I had always looked on
Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge, my boyhood chum, as a man
ruggedly indifferent to the appeal of the opposite sex. I had
assumed that, like so many financial giants, he had no time for
dalliance with women—other and deeper matters, I supposed,
keeping that great brain permanently occupied. It was a surprise,
therefore, when, passing down Shaftesbury Avenue one Wednesday
afternoon in June at the hour when matinée audiences were leaving
the theatres, I came upon him assisting a girl in a white dress to
mount an omnibus.

As far as this simple ceremony could be rendered impressive,

Ukridge made it so. His manner was a blend of courtliness and
devotion; and if his mackintosh had been a shade less yellow and his
hat a trifle less disreputable, he would have looked just like Sir
Walter Ralegh.

The bus moved on, Ukridge waved, and I proceeded to make

enquiries. I felt that I was an interested party. There had been a
distinctly “object-matrimony” look about the back of his neck, it
seemed to me; and the prospect of having to support a Mrs. Ukridge
and keep a flock of little Ukridges in socks and shirts perturbed me.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Oh, hallo, laddie!” said Ukridge, turning. “Where did you spring
from? If you had come a moment earlier, I’d have introduced you to
Dora.” The bus was lumbering out of sight into Piccadilly Circus, and
the white figure on top turned and gave a final wave. “That was
Dora Mason,” said Ukridge, having flapped a large hand in reply.
“She’s my aunt’s secretary-companion. I used to see a bit of her
from time to time when I was living at Wimbledon. Old Tuppy gave
me a couple of seats for that show at the Apollo, so I thought it
would be a kindly act to ask her along. I’m sorry for that girl. Sorry
for her, old horse.”

“What’s the matter with her?”

“Hers is a grey life. She has few pleasures. It’s an act of charity to
give her a little treat now and then. Think of it! Nothing to do all day
but brush the Pekingese and type out my aunt’s rotten novels.”

“Does your aunt write novels?”

“The world’s worst, laddie, the world’s worst. She’s been steeped
to the gills in literature ever since I can remember. They’ve just
made her president of the Pen and Ink Club. As a matter of fact, it
was her novels that did me in when I lived with her. She used to
send me to bed with the beastly things and ask me questions about
them at breakfast. Absolutely without exaggeration, laddie, at
breakfast. It was a dog’s life, and I’m glad it’s over. Flesh and blood
couldn’t stand the strain. Well, knowing my aunt, I don’t mind telling
you that my heart bleeds for poor little Dora. I know what a foul
time she has, and I feel a better, finer man for having given her this
passing gleam of sunshine. I wish I could have done more for her.”

“Well, you might have stood her tea after the theatre.”

“Not within the sphere of practical politics, laddie. Unless you can
sneak out without paying, which is dashed difficult to do with these
cashiers watching the door like weasels, tea even at an A B C shop
punches the pocket-book pretty hard, and at the moment I’m down
to the scrapings. But I’ll tell you what, I don’t mind joining you in a
cup, if you were thinking of it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Come, come! A little more of the good old spirit of hospitality, old
horse.”
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