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wouldn't let them in. He got the door shut with difficulty, leaving Pepi outside to talk to them.
    Waller was waiting to take charge of me.

    "Don't wait," I said to Brant. "Henry can do it all."

    "Now, look . . ." Brant began, but I cut him short.

    "I don't want you around, and I don't want you in my corner. Henry can do all that's necessary."

    Brant shrugged his fat shoulders. His face turned crimson.

    "Well, okay, if that's the way you feel. But there's no need to get sore at me. I can't help it."

    "Maybe you can't, but you got me into this, and I don't want you in my comer."

    As he turned to the door, he said, "Don't pull anything smart, Farrar. You're in this now up to your ears, and there's no out for you."

    "Dust!"

    When he had gone I began to strip off. Waller stood around, a worried expression on his ebony face.

    "You relax, Mr. Farrar," he said. "This ain't no way to go into the ring."

    "Okay, okay, don't bother me, Henry," I said, and stretched out on the rubbing-table. "Lock the door. I don't want anyone in here."

    He locked the door, then came over and began to work on me.

    "Are you going to win this fight?" he asked presently.

    "How do I know? Your guess is as good as mine."

    "I don't think so." He went on kneading my muscles for a while, then he said, "Mr. Petelli's been around too long. I reckon he's done a lot of harm to the game in this town. Is this another fixed fight?"

    "You know it is. I should have thought the whole damned town knows it by now. What else can you expect when Petelli lays ten grand on the Kid? I've been told to go in the third."

    Waller grunted. We didn't look at each other.

    "You shouldn't get sore with Mr. Brant," he said. "He's a good guy. What can he do against Mr. Petelli? If Mr. Petelli says for you to dive in the third, what can Mr. Brant say? If he says no, those two gunmen will fix him. Mr. Brant's got a wife and kids to think of."

    "Lay off, Henry. Maybe Brant can't help it, but I'd just as soon not have him around. You can take care of me, can't you?"

    "If you're going in the third, you don't need taking care of," Waller said sadly.

    There was some truth in that.

    "Suppose I don't take a dive?" I said. "Suppose I fight the Kid and lick him? What chance have I got of getting out of here alive?"

    Waller looked uneasily around the room as if he feared someone might be listening.

    "That's crazy talk," he said, his eyes rolling. "Get that idea, out of your head."

    "No harm in wondering. Where's that window lead to?"

    "You relax. There's no sense talking this way."

    I slid off the table, crossed the room and looked out of the window. A good thirty feet below me was the car-park. I leaned out. A narrow ledge ran below the window to a stack pipe, leading to the ground. It wouldn't be difficult to get down to the car park, but that didn't mean I could get away.

    Waller pulled me from the window;

    "Get back on the table. This ain't the way to act just before a fight."

    I got on to the table again.

    "Think those Wops would shoot me, Henry, or is it bluff?"

    "I know they would. They shot Boy O'Brien for pulling a double-cross a couple of years back. They bust Bennie Mason's hands when he got himself knocked out after Mr. Petelli had bet he'd go the distance. They threw acid in Tiger Freeman's face for winning in the seventh. Sure, they'd shoot you if that's what Mr. Petelli wants them to do."

    I was still churning it over in my mind when Brant yelled through the door it was time to get down to the ring.

    Henry helped me into the scarlet and blue dressing-gown Petelli had sent over for me to wear. It was a gaudy affair, with Johnny Farrar stitched in big white letters across the shoulders. At one time I would have been proud and happy to have worn it, but right now it made me feel bad.

    As I reached the top of the ramp leading into the arena, they played the Kid in with a fanfare of trumpets. The crowd was giving him a big hand, and when he vaulted over the