“Well, young feller, you seem to have got yourself into a nice mess now, haven’t you?” inquired the fat man.
“You mean you’ve got me into it,” retorted Joe. “I’m not here because I want to be here.”
“Well, don’t get gay, now, or maybe we can make you wish you hadn’t,” threatened the other. “All you’ve got to do is to follow the directions we give you, and you won’t get hurt.”
“If you didn’t have those ruffians with you, you might get hurt yourself,” said Joe.
“I brought them along on purpose so that wouldn’t happen, young feller,” said the other. “After watching you in action upstairs a while back, I’m ready to admit that you know how to handle yourself, but I don’t propose to have you make a punching bag of me.”
“What is it you want me to do?” asked Joe curtly. “I can probably tell you in advance that I won’t do it, but it won’t hurt to listen to you.”
“I don’t see that you have much choice,” said his captor. “But I don’t think I’ll tell you what I want you to do—not yet. Maybe a night in this hole will make you readier to listen to reason. The rats are rather thick down here, and I imagine by to-morrow you’ll be glad to get out on any terms. I wouldn’t like it much here myself.”
The two fellows behind the speaker laughed hoarsely at this attempt at humor.
“Better let us tap him a few wid de persuaders, boss,” said one. “The feller is too fresh. I kin see that with half an eye. Let’s rough ’im up a bit.”