But Daisy exclaimed aloud, and even the confident Miss Yockley herself almost winced, as Hobday, the big man, after a bare touch of Cluett's glove in the customary preliminary handshake, struck upward immediately and without warning. As the quick treacherous upper-cut shot toward Nick's chin, Bob Masterman, who could move with a marvellous quickness for all his avoirdupois, when occasion seemed to demand speed, jumped up from his seat and thrust his head through between the ropes, ready to shout his protest to the referee. But, before Mr. Masterman made a sound, a glove, at the end of a slim smooth-muscled arm, waved him away with a backward gesture. Nick Cluett, untouched, slid his manager a corner of a smile as he stepped lightly backward, just far enough to be missed by Hobday's left, which followed that gentleman's unsuccessful right in a brisk second try for Cluett's jaw-point. Nick's guard was languidly low, and on his face was an almost dreamy look which a group of Hobday's backers in the front orchestra seats evidently took for an expression of daze; for, "Finish him, Jim! He's all yours, boy!" they yelled lustily. Bob Masterman stole a look at Cluett's face. In the centre of the never-changing smile, he saw the mouth-corner drawn up in a dry, calculating way. The manager's momentary flicker of anxiety passed. He leaned back, folded his arms, grinned, and waited. Jim Hobday grew more aggressive every moment. The round was three-quarters over, and he had practically had the ring to himself, except for a gliding thing like a shadow, which eluded his fists by so little each time he swung that at every lunge he grew more encouraged, although he hit nothing. "Come on--fight!" he growled, bull-like. Mr. Cluett's smile deepened a little, and his lips moved. "Say when," were the words they framed. "When?--why, right now!" roared Hobday, loud enough for the group of his backers to hear. Mr. Cluett obeyed immediately. It was difficult for the eye to register the movement he made; but to those at the vantage-point of the ringside, it looked as though he doubled under Hobday's guard and then straightened up, all in one movement like a snake striking. Hobday's knees were seen to sag. His gloves dropped on Cluett's shoulders, half as though caressing his opponent, then slipped limply off. His whole heavy body collapsed, like a wet mattress. "Ouch!" said Miss Yockley, feeling her chin. Then, glancing sidewise at Daisy, she commented, "Well, kid, I suppose you feel easier now, eh?" "W-what did he do to him?" said Daisy, a little breathlessly; mixing her pronouns, in her marvelling. "Oh, nothing," said Miss Yockley, ironically, "nothing at all. Only sent that big bovalapus off to Dreamland, on a through ticket, with one swipe. That's all!"