"
"I suppose you know what you are doing? You realise that you're a
professional pug from this onwards, and that if ever you fight again--"
"I'll never fight again."
"Happen you won't," said the woman, and the Master turned a terrible eye
upon her.
"Well, I suppose you know your own business best. Up you jump. One
hundred and fifty-one, minus two, 149--12lbs. difference, but youth and
condition on the other scale. Well, the sooner we get to work the
better, for I wish to catch the seven o'clock express at Hellifield.
Twenty three-minute rounds, with one-minute intervals, and Queensberry
rules. Those are the conditions, are they not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good, then--we may go across."
The two combatants had overcoats thrown over their shoulders, and the
whole party, backers, fighters, seconds, and the referee filed out of
the room. A police inspector was waiting for them in the road. He had
a note-book in his hand--that terrible weapon which awes even the
London cabman.
"I must take your names, gentlemen, in case it should be necessary to
proceed for breach of peace."
"You don't mean to stop the fight?" cried Armitage, in a passion of
indignation. "I'm Mr. Armitage, of Croxley, and this is Mr. Wilson, and
we'll be responsible that all is fair and as it should be.
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