"Particularly then. But we rest secure in the fact that that outcome is highly improbable, not to state impossible."
Charlie Jingle sipped his gin, looking from one face to the other.
"So?" he asked, anticipating what was about to come.
"Suppose, Mister Jingle, you were offered a price for Tanker Bell, price far in excess of his actual worth. A price big enough to even make it possible for you to perhaps buy a second-rate fighter in good second-class condition."
Charlie Jingle closed his eyes and tapped his foot with horny, grease-monkey fingers. In a moment he opened them and slowly took in the three representatives of the champ, Iron-Man Pugg.
"Lemme get this straight. You want me to sell Tanker for much more than he's worth because you'd be humiliated at having to put one of your products in the same ring with him?"
"Exactly," said Kort Gassel.
"But you're sure your boy'd whip him in the ring?"
"Well obviously we all know the knockout victory he scored over the Contender was an accident."
Charlie Jingle nodded.