ster very nearly
overtook the red colours. Mordaunt swung rather wildly with his right
and missed. Harcourt's watchful left landed on the side of his
opponent's head as he lost his equilibrium, and Billy Mordaunt went
down with a thud.

He was on his feet again the next instant, his eyes fairly alight with
battle, and his lip curled back savagely. In a whirlwind of smashing
blows he drove Harcourt to the ropes again, until a straight left
between the eyes sobered him.

Ding! went the gong again, and again the applause burst out. The
seconds fell upon their men with furious energy. The water in the
basins was assuming a pinkish tinge, and they sponged and massaged and
flapped their towels as if striving to impart something of their own
vigour to their tired principals. The two combatants, breathing hard,
were leaning back with outstretched arms and legs, every muscle in
their resting bodies relaxed.

"Harcourt ought to win, you know," said Thorogood again. "He's just as
fit and a better boxer. But he seems to be tiring.... He had a pretty
tough time in the heats, I fancy."

"Seconds out of the ring! Last round!" came the Chaplain's voice.
Then the gong brought them to their feet.

They shook hands unsmiling, and began to circle cautiously, sparring
for an opening. Then Harcourt led. It was a stinging blow and it
landed fair enough. Billy took it, and several more; for a moment it
looked as if he had shot his bolt. Then he seemed suddenly to gather
all his tiring strength. He feinted and hit lightly with his left.
Harcourt blocked it, then unexpectedly lowered his guard; a little
mocking smile flitted over his blood-smeared face. Billy's right came
in with every ounce of muscle and sinew in his body to back the jolt,
and it landed fair on the point of that flaunting chin so temptingly
offered.

It seemed to Billy that Harcourt disappeared into a mist. There was a
thud and a great roar of voices and the sounds of clapping.

"Stand back!" said a warning voice at the ring-side, and somewhere,
apparently in the distance, another voice was counting the deliberate
seconds:

"... Five! Six! Seven!"

The angry mist cleared away and revealed Harcourt sprawling on the
ground. He was leaning over on both hands, striving gallantly to rise.

"... Eight! Nine!"

The white figure with the green sash was on hands and knees, swaying----

The gong rang. Down and out!

The referee glanced from one j