"Too easy," chortled Braxton. "It makes me laugh every time I think of
it."

Joe stepped into the room, followed by Jim.

"I do a little laughing myself sometimes," Joe said coldly. "And this is
one of the times!"

CHAPTER XXX

BROUGHT TO BOOK--CONCLUSION

There was a gasp of dismay and astonishment, as the conspirators jumped to
their feet from the windowsill upon which they had been sitting.

At the same instant Joe drew the flashlight from his pocket and illumined
their startled faces.

"Don't move!" he commanded. "Jim, you keep them covered."

Jim took up his station in the doorway, and in the insufficient light the
rascals could not see whether he had a weapon or not.

"What do you mean by this?" blustered Fleming, in a voice that he tried to
make brave, but that quavered despite himself.

"It means," said Joe grimly, "that one of you men is in for the licking of
his life. Don't tremble so, Fleming," he added contemptuously. "I've
already thrashed you once and I don't care to soil my hands with you
again. But I've been aching for months to get my fingers on the man that
made me out a liar and a contract-breaker. I have him now," he added,
with a steely glance at Braxton.

"Here, Jim," he continued, stepping back, "take this flash. I've got some
work to do."

With a quick wrench he tore off his coat.

"You'd better be careful," said Braxton--no longer the suave and polished
trickster, but pale as chalk and trembling like a leaf. "This is assault
and battery, and you'll answer to the law."

"Put up your hands," said Joe curtly. "You're as big a man as I am, but
you've got to prove which is the better one. And you, Jim, keep your eye
on Fleming and stand by to see fair play."

Even a rat will fight when cornered and Braxton, seeing no alternative,
threw off his coat and made a desperate rush at Joe. Joe met him with a
clip to the jaw that shook him from head to foot. Then he sailed in and
gave the scoundrel what he had promised--the thrashing of his life.

Braxton tried foul tactics, butted and kicked and tried to gouge and bite,
but Joe's powerful arms worked like windmills, his fists ripping savagely
into Braxton's face and chest. All the pent-up indignation and humiliation
of the last few weeks found vent in those mighty blows, and soon, too soon
to suit Joe, the man lay on the floor, whining and half-sobbing with shame
and pain.

"Get up, you cur!" said Joe, as he pulled on his coat.