“I will ask Mr. Cribb to train you.”
“I’ll do that, ma’am, with pleasure. But, by your leave, does he have anything if he loses?”
A spasm of emotion passed over the woman’s face and her hands clenched white with passion.
“If he loses, not a penny, not a penny!” she cried. “He must not, shall not lose!”
“Well, ma’am,” said Spring, “I’ve never heard of any such match. But it’s true that I am down at heel, and beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll do just what you say. I’ll train till you give the word, and then I’ll fight where you tell me. I hope you’ll make it a large ring.”
“Yes,” said she; “it will be a large ring.”
“And how far from London?”
“Within a hundred miles. Have you anything else to say? My time is up.”
“I’d like to ask, ma’am,” said the Champion, earnestly, “whether I can act as the lad’s second when the time comes. I’ve waited on him the last two fights. Can I give him a knee?”
“No,” said the woman, sharply. Without another word she turned and was gone, shutting the door behind her. A few moments later the trim carriage flashed past the window, turned down the crowded Haymarket, and was engulfed in the traffic.