ge, which Biff dexterously ducked, and
immediately after Biff's right arm shot out, catching his antagonist a
glancing blow upon the side of the cheek; a blow which drew blood.
Infuriated, again Ripley rushed, but was blocked, and for nearly a
minute there was a swift exchange of light blows which did little
damage; then Biff found his opening, and, swinging about the axis of
his own spine, threw the entire force of his body behind his right
arm, and the fist of that arm caught Ripley below the ear and dropped
him like a beef, just as Bobby came running back from, the office.

"What are you doing here, Biff? What's the matter?" demanded Bobby, as
Ripley, dazed, struggled to his feet, and, though weaving, drew
himself together for another onslaught.

"Matter!" snarled Biff. "I landed on a frame-up, that's all. This
afternoon I saw Sharpe and this Ripley together in a bum wine-room on
River Street, swapping so much of that earnest conversation that the
partitions bulged, and I dropped to the double-cross that's being
handed out to you. I've been trying to telephone you ever since, but
when I couldn't find you I came right down to run the plant. That's
all."

"You're all right, Biff," laughed Bobby, "but I guess we'll call this
a one-round affair, and I'll take charge."

"Don't stop 'em!" cried Daly savagely, turning to Bobby. "Hand it to
him, Biff. He's a crook and an all-round sneak. He beat me out of this
job by underhand means, and there ain't a man in the place that ain't
tickled to death to see him get the beating that's coming to him.
Paste him, Biff!"

"Biff!" repeated Mr. Ripley, suddenly dropping his hands. "Biff who?"

"Mr. Biff Bates, the well-known and justly celebrated ex-champion
middleweight," announced Bobby with a grin. "Mr. Ripley--Mr. Bates."

"Biff Bates!" repeated Con Ripley. "Why didn't some of you guys tell
me this was Biff Bates? Mr. Bates, I'm glad to meet you." And with
much respect he held forth his hand.

"Go chase yourself," growled Mr. Bates, in infinite scorn.

Ripley replied with a sudden volley of abuse, couched in the vilest of
language, but to this Biff made no reply. He dropped his hands in his
coat pockets, and, considering his work done, walked over to the wall
and leaned against it, awaiting further developments.

"Daly," asked Bobby sharply, breaking in upon Ripley's tirade, "are
you competent to run this plant?"

"Certainly, sir," replied Daly. "I should have had the j