“What?”
“You heard me! You’ve got to put me in against the Angel!”
The Saint’s steely fingers tightened about Grady’s arm. “You’ve got to, Mike!”
“Bu... but...”
Grady stopped short and looked at him for a long moment. He stepped backwards and eyed him up and down critically. He said finally, “Well, you look big enough. And hard enough, I guess. I’ve heard how you can hit...”
“I’ve been working with Steve,” said the Saint. “I’m in as good condition as a man ever was, Mike. And I can take Bilinski, believe me!”
“But it’s ridiculous!” Grady exploded. “There’s never been such a fight—”
Simon said swiftly, “Make an announcement in the ring. Tell them about my bet with Spangler. If they want their money back, they can have it. If they just want to see a fight — even if it’s only the Saint—”
“ Only the Saint!” Grady’s eyes took fire. A luminous inspired glow spread over his round, freckled face. “Holy mackerel! Maybe it won’t be a championship fight as advertised, but with you in it—”
“Come on, then.” Simon pulled him towards the door. “Let’s go — I’ve got to get hold of Whitey right away!”