“He isn’t a gentleman,” Ukridge pointed out, moodily. “But lithen!” “I’m going to get out of here as quick as I dashed well can!” “Conthider!” pleaded Mr. Previn, clawing great chunks out of the air. Ukridge began to button his collar. “Reflect!” moaned Mr. Previn. “There’s that lovely audience all sitting out there, jammed like thardines, waiting for the thing to start. Do you expect me to go and tell ’em there ain’t goin’ to be no fight? I’m thurprised at you,” said Mr. Previn, trying an appeal to his pride. “Where’s your manly spirit? A big, husky feller like you, that’s done all sorts of scrappin’ in your time——” “Not,” Ukridge pointed out coldly, “with any damned professional pugilists who’ve got a grievance against me.” “_He_ won’t hurt you.” “He won’t get the chance.” “You’ll be as safe and cosy in that ring with him as if you was playing ball with your little thister.” Ukridge said he hadn’t got a little sister. “But think!” implored Mr. Previn, flapping like a seal. “Think of the money! Do you realise we’ll have to return it all, every penny of it?” A spasm of pain passed over Ukridge’s face, but he continued buttoning his collar. “And not only that,” said Mr. Previn, “but, if you ask me, they’ll be so mad when they hear there ain’t goin’ to be no fight, they’ll lynch me.” Ukridge seemed to regard this possibility with calm. “And you, too,” added Mr. Previn. Ukridge started. It was a plausible theory, and one that had not occurred to him before. He paused irresolutely. And at this moment a man came hurrying in. “What’s the matter?” he demanded, fussily. “Thomas has been in the ring for five minutes. Isn’t your man ready?” “In one half tick,” said Mr. Previn. He turned meaningly to Ukridge. “That’s right, ain’t it? You’ll be ready in half a tick?” Ukridge nodded wanly. In silence he shed shirt, trousers, shoes, and collar, parting from them as if they were old friends whom he never expected to see again. One wistful glance he cast at his mackintosh, lying forlornly across a chair; and then, with more than a suggestion of a funeral procession, we started down the corridor that led to the main hall. The hum of many voices came to us; there was a sudden blaze of light, and we were there. I must say for the sport-loving citizens of Llunindnno that they appeared to be fair-minded men. Stranger in their midst though he was, they gave Ukridge an excellent reception as he climbed into the ring; and for a moment, such is the tonic effect of applause on a large scale, his depression seemed to lift. A faint, gratified smile played about his drawn mouth, and I think it would have developed into a bashful grin, had he not at this instant caught sight of the redoubtable Mr. Thomas towering massively across the way. I saw him blink, as one who, thinking absently of this and that, walks suddenly into a lamp-post; and his look of unhappiness returned.