ize sucker of the world
for a change. But first I get mine. How I hate a fool!"

"You're fighting Hughie Gay a week from Saturday. All right. Hughie's
a set-up. I saw to that. You can pick 'em yourself hereafter. But
right now your orders is to let Hughie stay the distance. A week from
Saturday. Is that clear? Have you got that--sure?"

Blair sat silent. It is strange how silence will fool a man like
Devereau. He made one last try for peace.

"And if you behave; if you're a good boy maybe we're going to forget we
had this little misunderstanding. There's others besides Hughie just
as soft. But if you're dead set on finding out who is boss; if you
want to know whether you're Dunham's man or not, why just cross them
orders. Pig-iron's got ten thousand on that fight--ten thousand that
you don't win by a knock-out, if you win at all. And if you cost him
that ten--Well, just dump it, if you want to see!"

"I fight on the level," said Perry, "or I don't fight at all."

"Then you don't fight at all," said Devereau.

Blair held him a long time with an eye that was chill. His voice was
quieter than before, if that were possible.

"I have sat here and taken talk from you, you vermin, that I'd take
from no man, because I could figure no other way. They know,
downstairs, that you are up here with me. If I kill you they will hang
me, and I do not choose to hang for one like you. If I laid a finger
on you, that would be assault, and you and your friends would swear me
into jail. That would be high card for you. It would fill your hand.
So I must sit here idle. But some day, maybe, I'm going to come upon
you with no circumstances to hinder. And if I do I'm going to change
you. You do not please me, as you are. Some day I hope to alter you
so that you will be a curio, even to your own best friends. . . . Get
out!"

The chill eye had frightened Devereau. It heartened him to hear that
he was safe.

"We'll put you out on the street," he snarled. "You'll be standing on
a corner, wondering what it's all about!"

"Get out!"

Devereau got.

CHAPTER VI

FELICITY CROSSES BROADWAY

And Perry Blair _had_ wanted to see. He hadn't listened to reason. He
hadn't been a good boy. His bout with Gay was a repetition of that
with Fanchette, the former title-holder. A brief half minute of
boxing, a feint--and Gay on the canvas for the count of ten.

He had wanted to see. He had been consumed with