"I'll tip you off on the technicalities of the scrap," he said. "All you need to do is to watch the men and describe what they do in your own way."
"Thank you," replied the rector. He was calm. When Mr. Sullivan nodded pleasantly, he smiled.
The men in the ring threw aside their bath-robes, and stood forth in all the splendor of their robust physiques. A short, pompous man, wearing a watch-chain which threatened to disconcert his physical balance, stepped to the ropes and held up his hand. Silence suddenly fell upon two thousand men.
"Th' preliminary is off; th' 'Kid' refuses to go on because th' 'Dago' didn't weigh in as agreed. Th' main bout will now take place. Mr. Sullivan t' th' right, an' Mr. McManus t' th' left." The pompous man took out a greasy telegram from his pocket, and said: "Lanky Williams challenges th' winner fer a purse an' a side bet of fi' thousan'."
He was cheered heartily. Nobody cared about the preliminary "go"; it was Sullivan and McManus the spectators had paid their money to see.
The rector recalled the scenes in Quo Vadis, and shrugged his shoulders. Human nature never changes; only politics and fashions. He himself was vaguely conscious of a guilty thrill as he saw the two men step from their corners and shake hands.
As this is a story not of how Mr. "Shifty" Sullivan won his battle from Mr. McManus, but of how the rector of St. Paul's nearly lost his, I shall not dwell upon the battle as it was fought by rounds. Let it suffice that the crisis came during the twelfth round. Sullivan was having the best of this round, though in the four previous he had been worsted. The men came together suddenly, and there was some rough in-fighting. The pompous man, who was the referee, was kept on the jump. One could hear the pad-pad of blows and the scrape-scrape of shoes on the resined mat, so breathless were the spectators. The boxers became tangled.
The voice rang out strong and distinct. It was not the referee's voice, for the referee himself looked angrily down whence the voice came. Sullivan, his face writhed in agony, was clinging desperately to his opponent.
"A foul blow!"