“It’s Fleming,” was the weak answer. “Open up.”
The door opened and the party went in with a rush.
There was a cry of joy from Mabel and a startled exclamation from Braxton. He looked toward the door, but the burly policeman had closed it and stood with his back against it. The next instant Joe had smashed Braxton straight between the eyes and the rascal measured his length on the floor. An instant more, and Mabel was in Joe’s arms, sobbing her heart out against his breast.
For a few moments the reunited ones were dead to the world around them. When at last they had come to their senses, Joe, with a final caress, relinquished Mabel to Reggie’s care.
“You’d better go out to the car, dearest,” he said to her. “I’ll be with you soon. I’ve got a little business to attend to here.”
The brother and sister went out, and Joe turned to the rest of the party. Braxton had been yanked to his feet by Jim and jammed down hard into a chair, where he sat glowering with rage and fear. Doyle stood guard over Fleming, who presented a miserable picture of abjectness.
“Shall I take them in charge, Mr. Matson?” asked the police lieutenant. “You seem to have a clear case against them. They ought to get ten years at least.”
The fear in the rascals’ faces deepened.
“No,” answered Joe thoughtfully. “I don’t want any scandal and I don’t believe I’ll make a charge. At least, not yet. Jim, can you skirmish around and find pen and ink?”
In a minute or two Jim had found them.