THE CONSPIRACY LAID OPEN.
The Selbys kept their own counsel, although Tom burned to tell
everybody whom he met not to bet with Hank Jackson on the base ball
match; but, after pondering the matter in his mind, he came to the
conclusion that if people would bet on a base ball game, they must run
their own risks and chances. It would serve them right, he thought, if
they did lose their money in this foolish fashion. The League, he knew,
had enacted severe rules against gaming, and the influence of that
example should be strengthened even if by the misfortunes of those who
laid wagers.
So there would have been no suspicion of Hank's complicity in any
plot, if Mike had been able to keep a secret, but Mike adored "the
lady operator" secretly and from afar. He submitted in silence and
uncomplainingly to her rebuffs and scoldings for the sake of winning
her regard. In a moment of confidence, he imparted to the object of
his dumb worship the information that the cipher message which she
had received for Jackson was "crooked." The young lady was shocked.
She had heard that Hank was going about town offering to bet against
the Catalpa nine, and now she instantly divined what was going
on, and was indignant accordingly. The fact that she had been the
unconscious channel of communicating with the culprit did not lessen
her wrath. Unhappily for Henry, he came to the office in the course
of the afternoon, and the operator, as soon as she saw him, "gave him
a piece of her mind," to his great discomfiture. Hank, unlike his
co-conspirator, did not attempt to deny anything, but tacitly admitted
all that was charged against him by the irate young lady.
After turning over in his mind the circumstances of the scrape into
which he had been drawn, Master Jackson coolly sat down and wrote the
following despatch to Ben Burton:
_The thing is blown. Look out for yourself._
_HENRY J. JACKSON._
It was this warning, received by Burton after the game was over, that
put him on his guard when he was confronted with the despatch sent to
Hiram Porter. Next day, when the town was alive with enthusiasm over
the reception to the returning base ball club, Henry Jackson did not
appear in any of the excited groups that accompanied the players from
the depot to their club-rooms.
The hilarity of the day was somewhat dampened by the fact that one
of the nine was a traitor, and that he must be disciplined, if the
charge were proven against him. The evidence shown to the boys on their
arrival was tolerably conclusive, but it was needful, as they thought,
to secure an admission from either Ben or Henry that there had been
collusion between them. Burton's father, a worthy and honest miller,
sought out Captain Hiram, and, with much grief, told him that Ben had
written to him from Chicago, saying that he was going to Indiana on
unexpected business, and that he would not be in Catalpa for some weeks
to come. This, to the old gentleman, who had heard the flying reports
to his son's discredit, was a suspicious circumstance. He did not like
to believe that Benjamin had done anything wrong, he said, but he was
"afeard," yes, he was "afeard."
Judge Howell sent for Hank Jackson, and that young man, although
at first disposed to be stubborn, finally broke down before the
majesterial bearing of the Judge and told all that was needful to
convict himself and Ben of having combined to make money by betting
on the game between the Calumets and the Catalpas. Ben, he said, had
suggested the trick, agreeing to "throw the game," if Hank, and any
other confederate whom he might select, would get the bets secured in
Catalpa. Henry also thought that Ben had arranged to have a similar
scheme at the same time played in Sandy Key, where he had a boon
companion.
The story of the despatches was now clearly unravelled. Ben had sent a
despatch to Henry Jackson directly after leaving the Chicago lodgings
of the club, on the morning of the second day; subsequently, he had
remembered that his friend in Sandy Key might be utilized as a fellow
conspirator, and, just before the game was called, he had hurried off a
despatch to him, also. Inquiries subsequently developed the fact that
this was exactly what had been done.
While Henry was undergoing an examination in Judge Howell's private
office, the nine were in consultation. Presently, the door opened and
the Judge and his unwilling prisoner appeared.
"Henry has decided to make a clean breast of this unhappy business,
Captain Porter," said the Judge. "Speak up like a man, Henry, and tell
the gentlemen what you have told me."
With downcast eyes and a sullen manner, Hank fumbled with his cap,
and mumbled his story, but without omitting anything relevant to the
case. He was heard in silence, although "The Lily," whose eyes glared
vengefully at the culprit, with difficulty restrained himself. And when
the door closed behind the Judge and the criminal, the ungentle William
gave a roar of rage that astonished first, and then set the club off
into fits of laughter, in spite of the solemnity of the occasion.
"Well, what is the result of your deliberations, Mr. Boyne?" asked a
brisk and somewhat seedy young man, as the boys came down from their
club-room. Pulling out a note book and moistening a pencil at his lip,
as he spoke, he continued, "Shocking case of depravity on the part of
young Burton. Quite a small sensation, on my word. Small, small for a
big city, but really sensational for Catalpa, you know. Ha! ha!" and
the young gentleman laughed at his little sally.
"Great powers!" was Larry's exclamation. "You are not going to print
anything about this disgraceful business in _The Leaf_, are you?"
"Why, certainly, Mr. Boyne. I have a lovely article written up. We only
want the action of the club to round it off, give it completeness as it
were, and there you are."
"Oh, that would be very bad!" cried Larry. "I don't mind your saying in
the paper that Mr. Burton has been obliged to leave the club, and that
we have supplied his place by placing Mr. Albert Heaton at short stop,
Mr. William Sprague being unable to play, on account of having sprained
his thumb while practicing with the club. But don't let us disgrace the
town and the club by making public Ben Burton's treachery!"
A new light seemed to dawn on the reporter's mind, and he sucked his
pencil reflectively. Finally, he brightened up and said, "Well, you
must go and see Mr. Downey. He was reckoning that we would have a
first-class story out of this. I have no authority in the premises. I
am only an humble scribbler, a mere local-items, so to speak. But a
word from you to the editor-in-chief, Mr. Boyne, will have its effect.
Yes, it will have its effect. But that is a lovely story spoiled, Mr.
Boyne."
Mr. Downey, when sought in the office of _The Leaf_, was deeply
chagrined to learn that the members of the base ball club were
unwilling that anything should appear in next morning's paper regarding
the unfortunate affair in which Ben Burton was involved. News was news,
he said, and, what was more, news was very scarce at this season of the
year. Harvesting was not wholly completed. No shooting matches had been
yet arranged, and there was a frightful dullness throughout the county.
His hated rival, _The Dean County Banner_, would be almost certain to
get hold of the affair, and, as _The Banner_ was a semi-weekly, instead
of a daily, like _The Leaf_, he would have time to work it up into that
dime novel sensation to which _The Banner_ was so addicted. And the
editor of _The Leaf_ curled his lip with fine contempt for his rival.
But the arguments of the young men overwhelmed the generous mind of the
editor, who, on condition that similar persuasion should be brought
to bear on the editor of _The Banner_, consigned to the waste-basket,
but with a pang, the highly-seasoned narrative which his reporter had
prepared.
The substitution of Albert Heaton for the derelict Ben Burton was not
effected without a struggle. His mother, firm in her conviction that
base ball was not an aristocratic game, held out against the arguments
of her husband and her son, until Judge Howell, accidentally meeting
her on the street, one day, craftily won her over by informing her that
he wished that he had a son big enough to play base ball. He was sure
that the honor and the glory of defeating the crack base ball club of
the State would now fall to the Catalpa nine. It would be a great day
for Catalpa when this happened.
The good lady surrendered. What Judge Howell thought and said seemed
to her like law and gospel, social and moral. Albert joyfully received
consent to play with the nine--"just for this once."