THE UNEXPECTED
The remainder of the afternoon was one long trial for Lefty Locke. He
was under the necessity of keeping up an appearance of light-hearted
indifference before the girls, when all the time he simply ached to be
out there on the diamond.
He saw Redmond pitching the sort of ball to delight the veterans, who
batted him mercilessly. He saw Elgin, backed by the whole strength of
the regular team, make a showing such as he had never made before. He
saw the cubs mowed down, snowed under, beaten to a frazzle; and all the
time he had to laugh and joke and fight down any signs of the bitter
disappointment which filled his soul.
Janet, knowing him as she did, realized something of what he must be
feeling, and tactfully refrained from any comments on Elgin’s pitching.
Neither did she tell Lefty how sorry she was at the way things had
gone, and for that he was thankful. It seemed as if Janet Harting’s
pity would have been the last straw.
When the last inning ended, with a score of nine to three in favor of
the regulars, she further won his gratitude by suggesting to Jean that
they leave the field at once, before the crowd started, and take Lefty
with them.
He accepted with alacrity. When they put him down at the hotel, he said
good-by to Miss Forsythe, then held out his hand to Janet.
“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice as she took it.
The girl smiled understandingly into his eyes. “Come and see us soon,”
was all she said, as the car moved away.
Of course, the principal topic of conversation that night was the
wonderful exhibition of pitching shown by Elgin. Some of the newspaper
men, in particular, were more than enthusiastic, hailing him as the
most promising youngster Brennan had discovered, and predicting a
bright future for him. The older players had seen too many “infant
phenoms” to be in the least impressed; they knew, moreover, how much
of his success had been due to their own assistance. The cubs were
too downcast over their defeat to think of anything else. Redmond was
wearing a grouch, and Locke’s stock began to soar when Ogan expressed a
belief at the supper table that if the southpaw had been put in, as he
desired, the result would have been quite different.
Lefty missed Jack Stillman and was beginning to wonder where he was
when the reporter suddenly issued from the elevator, about eight
o’clock, and hurried over.
“Had to get my copy off,” he explained. “Say! Have you seen old Oggie?”
“You don’t mean Oggie Wilmerding!” Lefty exclaimed incredulously.
“Surest thing you know! The old lobster was here when we got back from
the field this afternoon. He’s traveling for the Wood’s Hoisting Engine
Company. Talk about class! Oh, hush!”
Lefty grinned. “Oggie always did have a hankering for lugs,” he
chuckled. “But he’s all right, just the same. Where do you suppose he’s
gone?”
“Give it up. He said something about seeing a man the first thing in
the morning, but perhaps he’s hunting him up to-night.”
This surmise proved to be correct. About half an hour later a tall,
well-groomed, prosperous-looking chap entered the lobby, and was
instantly seized by the two Princeton men and mauled after the fashion
of college mates who haven’t met each other in some time.
He was unfeignedly glad to see Lefty, and when the first exuberant
greetings were ended they settled down in a corner of the lobby to talk
over old times.
“You’re fat as a pig, Oggie,” Lefty remarked, with fond bluntness. “I’d
like to have you on the squad for about a month.”
Wilmerding waved away the suggestion with horror. “No, thanks! I never
took to exercise. I’m very well satisfied as I am. Never did like to
see every bone in a fellow’s body.” He paused an instant, and then
chuckled. “But this is the best ever, running across you three old
Princeton plugs in a bunch. Where’s Elgin? I was talking to him before
supper, and I’ll be hanged if he isn’t a pretty decent chap. Never
cared very much for him at college, but he seems to have improved a lot
since then.”
The silence which followed his remark was eloquent. Wilmerding glanced
from one frowning face to the other, and raised his eyebrows.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired. “Have I struck a false note?”
“You certainly have if you sized up that cur as decent,” Stillman
retorted impulsively.
“You don’t mean it!” Wilmerding exclaimed. “Why, he seemed very
pleasant. What’s he done to get you two on his neck?”
“What he did at college was enough to get any self-respecting fellow
down on him, let alone the dirty tricks he’s tried since then.”
The plump chap looked puzzled. “At college?” he repeated. “I don’t
understand, Jack.”
“You will when I tell you that he was the one who stole Bob Ferris’
watch and money, and then tried to put the blame on Lefty.”
The effect of his words on Wilmerding was extraordinary. The healthy
glow faded swiftly from the plump cheeks, leaving them pale and
mottled. His jaw dropped, and for an instant he sat staring at the
reporter with startled eyes.
“Impossible!” he gasped at last, in a hoarse, trembling voice.
“It’s not impossible,” Stillman retorted sharply. “The whole thing’s as
plain as print. Lefty caught him with the goods.”
Slowly Wilmerding turned his eyes on Locke. The look in them was that
of one who is unable to credit the evidence of his senses.
“It’s true,” Locke affirmed, wondering curiously what brought that
extraordinary expression into the other’s face. “I saw the watch in his
possession.”
Wilmerding dropped his lids and swallowed hard. For a moment or two he
sat staring at his lap, where his plump, well-cared-for hands lay, the
fingers tightly interlaced. His mouth was twitching nervously and his
face was still pale. At last he raised his head again and glanced at
Stillman.
“It isn’t possible, Jack,” he said unevenly. “You’ve made a big
mistake.”
“Don’t be a fool, Oggie,” the reporter snapped. “There isn’t a chance
of that. What the deuce do you know about it, anyhow?”
Wilmerding moistened his dry lips. “A great deal,” he said slowly.
“I――was the――thief, myself.”
“You?” exclaimed both men together.
Then Locke laughed oddly. “Jove! That was well done, Oggie,” he
exclaimed. “We both bit beautifully.”
Wilmerding shook his head. His eyes were tortured.
“You’re wrong,” he said, more clearly. “I’m not fooling; I mean every
word I say.” He reached out, and gripped the edge of a small table
standing beside his chair; somehow, the action seemed to steady him.
“It’s mighty hard to tell you fellows,” he went on slowly. “I thought
the whole wretched business had been buried forever. I never expected
to hear of it again, but I can’t let you go on thinking what you do
about Elgin. As true as I sit here, I stole those things from Ferris. I
didn’t mean to do it, but I took them just the same. Ever since I was
a kid I’ve been cursed with a sleepwalking habit, and not the ordinary
sort, either. When I’m asleep I do things I’d never dream of doing in
my right senses. You remember Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
Lefty nodded silently. He was too amazed to speak.
“Well, in a way I’m a Jekyll and Hyde. I’ve often thought that,
sleeping and waking, I have two just such different personalities as
those. I’ll never forget the awful sensation of finding out the first
time that I’d been into somebody else’s room and stolen a scarfpin off
the bureau. It was at a summer hotel, and I managed to put it back
without any one finding out. At college I did the same thing every
now and then, but never very much, and always managed to get my loot
back undiscovered. I thought I’d done the same thing with Ferris’
belongings.”
“But, Oggie, this is all rot!” Lefty burst out. “You’re worrying
yourself over something which is utterly impossible. I tell you I saw
Ferris’ watch fall out of Bert Elgin’s pocket.”
“Could you swear to the watch?” Wilmerding asked wearily and without
conviction.
“Well, it looked exactly like it.”
“Must have been some other watch,” Wilmerding returned positively. “Did
he ever confess to you that he did the stealing?”
“N-o, I can’t say that. In fact, he denied it up and down; but of
course he’d do that. I told him unless the things were returned in
twenty-four hours I’d go to the dean. They were back on Ferris’ bureau
the next morning.”
Wilmerding nodded. “Naturally, when I put them there myself. In my
sleep I had hidden them behind some books on a shelf, and I didn’t
find them until that night. I tell you fellows, you’ve made a terrible
mistake. I never cared much for Elgin in the old days, and had very
little to do with him, but I can’t keep still and let any man suffer
for my own wrongdoing.”
There was no mistaking the deadly earnestness of his tone, and, as he
realized what the disclosure meant, Lefty experienced an odd, sinking
sensation. Thoroughly upright and straightforward himself, the thought
that he had been the means of branding an innocent man as a thief was
intolerable to him. Moreover, if Elgin was not guilty of that theft,
what proof had they of his complicity in recent underhanded doings?
With a feeling that the earth was dropping away under his feet, Locke
turned toward Stillman. He saw on the reporter’s face that same
expression of groping blankness which he knew was on his own.