“My dear Mike,” he argued, “every successful man in this game is the natural target of vile rumour and malicious gossip. I’m hurt that you, with all your experience with that sort of thing, should give even hesitant credence to this thing you’ve mentioned.”
“I didn’t say I believed it,” Grady said heavily. “I just want to get your side of it, that’s all.”
“If Karl attacked Templar, it was entirely on his own volition, Mike, I assure you. After all, the Saint gave him sufficient reason, don’t you think?”
“Okay,” Grady said. “Maybe so. But what about the thing that happened this morning? I picked up this paper on my way down here. It’s on the front page — look.” He picked up the early afternoon edition from his lap and tossed it on to Spangler’s desk. “According to that, it was an accident. But was it? Did Templar tell me the truth? Did Mancini try to run him down?”
Spangler shrugged, spreading his hands helplessly.
“Now how would I know? Certainly Slim had as much reason as Karl had to attempt a, shall we say, retributive act? That is, if it wasn’t an accident, which it may well have been.” He sighed. “After all, the manhandling that both of them have suffered from Templar and that gorilla of his would be enough to tax the forbearance of far less... uh... angelic creatures than Karl and Slim, poor fellow. After all, Mike, I’m no nursemaid. Nor do I keep any of my employees on a leash.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mike agreed restlessly, removing the cigar from his mouth. “But that isn’t all. There’s talk. About that last fight. Torpedo Smith’s death is still being — well, talked about. There are rumours—”
“Rumours, rumours...” The fat man shook his head ruefully. “And you listen? Where do you suppose they originate? From Steve Nelson’s camp, of course. Trying to discredit me, to smear the Angel. Nelson knows very well he hasn’t a chance against my man, so he’s preparing his alibi in advance. Can’t you see that? You know and I know that the real reason the Angel wins is because of the psycho-hypnotic technique I use in my training methods. It gives that great hulk of a fellow power and speed many times greater than any man is normally capable of.”
“Maybe so.” Grady stuck his cigar back between his teeth and wagged a warning forefinger at Spangler. “But I tell you right here and now, Doc, if that man Smith was killed because of anything... shady...”
The good humour vanished completely from Spangler’s meaty face.