A loud-voiced fellow appeared and made an announcement. He delivered quite a speech, explaining how the referee had been chosen, and finally introduced the referee, who followed with a speech of his own, in which he boasted so much of his squareness that Frank decided he must be a great rascal.
Then there was a howl from the assembled crowd:
“There comes the Maverick!”
Swathed in a blanket, one of the principals entered the roped arena, accompanied by his second. The crowd thundered its applause, and he bowed his bullet head several times in acknowledgment, finally sitting down in a corner.
Then came the other fighter, also wrapped about by a blanket, and the audience howled still more hoarsely.
Frank paid very little attention to this. He scarcely noted what followed. Finally he heard the clang of a gong, and then he knew the fighters were at it. He glanced toward the “squared circle” and saw them sparring, lunging, dashing, retreating and dancing about each other, but his heart was sinking more and more as he failed to see anything of the one person he sought.
And then, right in the midst of the very first round, came a startling cry:
“The police! the police!”
“We’re raided!”
There was a hammering at the doors.