Morgan gulped and swore. "Jeffries!"
"Right," snapped the Guardsman.
Morgan grabbed for his guns and the cabin of the small craft was filled with the crack-crack of swift gun fire. Morgan fired once; Jeffries twice. Black Morgan missed, but Jeffries' first shot shattered the pirate's right wrist. The other gun dropped out of his hand from shock, and Jeffries strode up and covered the beaten pirate.
Jeffries did not return to his ship, but he took over the pirate's small craft and drove it to Terra. He handed the pirate over to Captain Edwards with a smile.
"This is he," he grunted. "And now what?"
"You've won," smiled Edwards. His pleasure was honest. "If he's Black Morgan, you've won, and we can easily hush up any trouble. But can you prove it?"
"Sure," grinned Jeffries. "Cell him, and then come up to training school on the roof. This takes demonstration."
"O.K.," smiled Edwards. "It's your show."
Jeffries faced the group of experts, scientists, and police officials. At one side of him was the mock-up of the celestial globe used in training rookie spacemen. On the table beside him was a pile of equipment.