Enderby, alias Livius, fell as if smitten
by a cestus. As his arm touched the floor, Average Jones kicked
unerringly at the wrist and the knife flew and tinkled in a far
corner. Bertram, with a bound, landed on the fallen man's chest and
pinned him.
"'Did he get you, Average?" he cried.
"Not--er--this time. Pretty good--er--team work," drawled the
Ad-Visor. "We've got our man for felonious assault, at least."
Enderby, panting under Bertram's solid knee, blinked and struggled.
"No use, Livius," said Average Jones. "Might as well quiet down and
confess. Ease up a little on him, Bert. Take a look at that scar
of his first though."
"Superficial cut treated with make-up paint; a clever job,"
pronounced Bertram after a quick examination.
"As I supposed," said Average Jones.
"Let me in on the deal," pleaded Livius. "That letter is worth ten
thousand, twelve thousand, fifteen thousand dollars--anything you
want to ask, if you find the right purchaser. And you can't manage
it without me. Let me in.
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