The gong saved him.
Dillon got to his feet; he pushed past Morgan, climbed over the blonde and walked up the aisle again. At the head of the corridor leading to the dressing-rooms a little runt in a yellow-white jersey stopped him. “This is as far as you’ll get,” he said.
“I’m on business,” Dillon said, and went on.
The little runt had to let him go; he was just swept aside.
Dillon wandered into Sankey’s room. Hank was sitting on a stool beside the table. Sankey was lying on the table, a bright-red dressing-gown covered him. They both looked up as Dillon came in.
Hank said, “He’s on next but one.”
Dillon pursed his lips. “You okay?” he said.
Sankey half sat up. “Sure I’m okay. This guy’s goin’ to take a dive, ain’t he?”
Dillon nodded. “That don’t mean you ain’t gotta try,” he said evenly; “you gotta watch this guy, Sankey.”
Hank said heatedly, “Sure he’ll watch him… what you think?”
Dillon nodded. Then he wandered out again. He walked softly down the corridor until he came to Franks’ room. He put his hand inside his coat, feeling the cold butt of the Colt. Then he opened the door and went in.
Franks was staring moodily at his feet. His trainer, Borg, was sitting despondently on a wooden chair, cleaning his nails with a small knife. He looked up sharply as Dillon came in. “Wrong room, buddy,” he said crisply. “On your way.”
Dillon didn’t even look at him. He said to Franks, “We’re outside watching.”
Franks looked up. “Get out, an’ stay out!” he said.
Dillon didn’t move. “Don’t get this thing wrong,” he said. “We don’t want to start anythin’.”
Borg got off his chair. He came over to Dillon fast. He was only a little guy, and fat, but he’d got plenty of guts. “What the hell you blowin’ about? Scram, you ain’t wanted here.”
Dillon looked down at him, sneered, and wandered out. At the door he turned his head. “In about the fifth, Franks,” he said, and pulled the door to with a sharp click.
A sudden burst of ironic cheering came to him from the hall. He passed the little runt again, who glowered at him but said nothing.
At the entrance of K Section he saw Gurney and Morgan pushing through to the saloon. Dillon forced his way through the crowd and caught up with them.
“Those two little punks are scared sick of each other,” Morgan said, as he came up. “They’re just sleepin’ off time in each other’s arms.”
Gurney said, “Did you see Franks?”
Dillon nodded. He leant against the counter, his thumbs hooked in his belt. “He’ll be okay,” he said.
Gurney poured himself out a shot of bourbon and pushed the bottle over to Morgan. “And Sankey?”
“Sankey’s got his nerve back. He’s a big shot now the brawl’s rigged. That guy’s got a yellow streak somewhere.”
Morgan didn’t like that, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure of Dillon. “Too bad about Butch,” he said, pushing the conversation into safer channels.
Dillon raised his eyebrows. “I ain’t heard,” he said.
Gurney looked uncomfortable. He hurriedly filled his glass. Under his eyelids, Dillon watched him.
Morgan gave a tinny laugh. “Ain’t you heard? Say, it’s rich! That little kid of his nearly knocked his block off.”
“You’re crazy,” Dillon said, frowning.
“It sounds like that, but it’s on the level. Old Butch comes back from an evenin’ out, and catches her with some guy neckin’ in the front room. Gee! I’d like to’ve been there. She didn’t have a stitch on. The guy blows his top an’ lams through the window. I guess it must’ve been a scream.” Morgan hit his thigh, bending forward, laughing in a hoarse burst.
Dillon eyed him contemptuously.
“Then Butch takes his belt to her and raises a few blisters. Just what’s been comin’ to that little broad. After he’s half skinned her she breaks loose, an’ damn if she don’t bounce a chair on his dome. I tell you, that dame is sure hot an’ wild. She goes on bouncin’ that chair until Butch takes the count. He’s lying up now, sore as a bear with a boil, an’ the kid’s runnin’ the house, givin’ herself airs.”
Dillon said, “Who was the guy?”
He knew, by just watching Gurney.
Morgan shrugged. “Butch can’t find out,” he said. “He figgered the strap would make her talk, but it didn’t. She kept her mouth shut. I guess it was a lucky break for that runaway. Butch would’ve twisted his neck for him.”
, Gurney mopped his face with a silk handkerchief. Dillon looked at him, but Gurney shifted his eyes.
Dillon said, “We’ll go back. They’ll be comin’ in soon.”
The hall was ablaze with light when they walked in. A buzz of talk hummed round the walls. The ring was empty. As they took their seats the lights began to dim.
The fat men behind them were talking in loud, hoarse voices. “There ain’t enough business goin’ on tonight,” one of them complained. “I’m layin’ three to one on Franks. The suckers ain’t taking me.”
Dillon turned his head. “I’ll take five hundred of that,” he said.
The two fat men looked at each other, a little startled. Then one of them said, “Sure,” but they stopped talking after that.
Gurney nudged Dillon, jerking his head. Beth Franks was coming down the aisle. She slipped into a vacant seat near one of the corners. Her face had a boney, scraped look, and her eyes glittered as if she had a fever.
Gurney whispered, “She’s nuts to come here.”
Dillon shook his head. “It’ll keep Franks’ mind right,” he said.
The crowd began to yell. Sankey was coming in. The spotlights followed him down the aisle, reflecting on his red dressing-gown. He climbed through the ropes, holding one hand above his head.
Gurney said, “Hell! He thinks he’s Louis.”
Sankey plodded round the ring, keeping his hand up, while half the house groaned at him, and the other half yelled. He had four handlers in white, who stood self-consciously in the corner, waiting for him to get through with his stuff. He came back at last, and stood in his corner, flexing his knees and worrying the ropes.
Morgan cast a look at Dillon. “He’s got his nerve back, ain’t he?”
Dillon sneered.
Franks came down now. The crowd got to their feet for him. The roof trembled at their roar. The three twisted their heads to watch him come. Franks looked a little fine-drawn, and there were smudges just under his eyes. He had to walk past them to the ring.
Gurney called, “Don’t get too tough with him, Harry.”
The crowd liked that, and they hooted. Franks didn’t look, he kept on.
Beth heard Gurney and she stood up, looking with wild eyes at the three of them sitting on her left. She stared at them for several seconds, then she sat down again.
Morgan shifted uncomfortably. “She’ll know us again,” he said.
The other two didn’t say anything.
Sankey bounced out of his corner and pushed the rope down for Franks to get through. Franks paused, looking up at him. “Be yourself,” he snarled. “Get to hell out of it!”
The crowd thought Sankey was being sporty. They gave him a yell. Franks took the ropes like a hurdle, leaving Sankey still holding them. The crowd liked that too, they hooted and clapped.
They couldn’t keep Sankey out of Franks’ corner. He went over there and patted Franks’ shoulder. The crowd thought it was wonderful.
Franks said, “If you don’t keep this sonofabitch away from me, I’ll start on him now.”
Borg said to Sankey, “Give us a little air, brother, you’ll be seein’ him too much soon.”
Sankey wandered back to his corner, his two fists together, waving to the crowd.
Gurney said, “This bastard’ll drive me barmy.”