“Well, I’ll tell you one thing. I am hoping that what I went through this afternoon really was for some good cause. I should be sorry, now that I am in a cooler frame of mind, to have to strangle you where you lie. Would you mind telling me exactly what was the idea behind all this?”
“It’s like this, laddie. Good old Billson blew in to see me the other day.”
“I met him down in the East End and he asked for your address.”
“Yes, he told me.”
“What’s going on? Are you still managing him?”
“Yes. That’s what he wanted to see me about. Apparently the contract has another year to run and he can’t fix up anything without my O.K. And he’s just had an offer to fight a bloke called Alf Todd at the Universal.”
“That’s a step up from Wonderland,” I said, for I had a solid respect for this Mecca of the boxing world. “How much is he getting this time?”
“Two hundred quid.”
“Two hundred quid! But that’s a lot for practically an unknown man.”
“Unknown man?” said Ukridge, hurt. “What do you mean, unknown man? If you ask my opinion, I should say the whole pugilistic world is seething with excitement about old Billson. Literally seething. Didn’t he slosh the middleweight champion?”