"Tremendous!" assented Tony with a shudder. "I should probably have to give up smoking in bed and come down to breakfast every morning." "You would be all the better for it," said Guy firmly. "I was thinking, however, more of your general outlook on things. Marriage with the right woman might make you realize that your position carries with it certain duties that you ought to regard both as a privilege and a pleasure." "Is going into Parliament one of them?" asked Tony. "Certainly. As a large landowner you are just the type of man who is badly wanted in the House of Commons." "They must be devilish hard up for legislators," said Tony. "Still, if you and Henry have made up your minds, I expect I shall have to do it." He paused. "I don't think I should like to be the member for Balham North though," he added reflectively. "It sounds like the sort of place where a chorus girl's mother would live." Any defence of the constituency which Guy may have had to offer was cut short by the re-entrance of Spalding. "The car is at the door, sir," he observed. "Aren't you going to finish your dinner?" inquired Guy, as Tony pushed back his chair. The latter shook his head. "I never eat much before a fight," he said. "It prevents my getting properly excited." He got up from his seat. "Besides," he added, "I always take Bugg round to Shepherd's after he has knocked out his man, and we celebrate the victory with stout and oysters. It's Bugg's idea of Heaven." He passed out into the hall where Spalding helped him on with his coat. Outside the front door stood a beautifully appointed Rolls-Royce limousine, painted the colour of silver and upholstered in grey Bedford cord. Jennings was at the wheel and inside sat Tiger Bugg and a large red-faced man with little twinkling black eyes. This latter was Mr. "Blink" McFarland, the celebrated proprietor of the Hampstead Heath Gymnasium, who acted as Tiger's trainer and sparring partner. They both touched their caps as Tony appeared. "I wouldn't let 'im get out, sir," observed McFarland in a gruff voice. "Might 'a took a chill hangin' around." "Quite right, Blink," replied Tony gravely. "Lopez isn't to be sneezed at even by a future champion." He lit himself a cigarette, and stepping inside closed the door behind him. Spalding made a signal to Jennings and the big car slid off noiselessly down the drive. Tony turned to Bugg. "Feeling all right?" he inquired. The young prize-fighter grinned amiably. "Fine, sir, thank ye, sir." With an affectionate gesture, McFarland laid an enormous mottled hand on his charge's knee. "He's fit to jump out of 'is skin, sir; you take it from me. If he don't knock two sorts of blue 'ell out of that dirty faced dago I'll give up trainin' fighters and start keepin' rabbits." "Lopez is supposed to have a bit of a punch himself, isn't he?" inquired Tony. McFarland made a hoarse rumbling noise which was presumably intended for a laugh.