RACING TOWARD THE PENNANT
On every hand was evidence of the frantic haste with which the
apartment had been evacuated.
Drawers had been flung open, papers scattered upon the floor, electric
fixtures ripped from their connections. There was no trace of the
mysterious electrical instrument, though the imprints of its feet could
be seen on a small table.
The members of the group looked at each other in bitter disappointment.
“He’s taken alarm at something,” remarked O’Brien. “Perhaps got a tip
that you were on to his track. Maybe the quickness with which his
machine worked this morning made him suspicious. Possibly he or his
accomplices had field glasses, too, and they may have seen Mr. Matson
keeping tabs on them. Well, I’ll put some of my men on his track and I
guess we’ll round him up before long.”
“How about Harrish and Tompkinson?” asked Joe.
“No use bothering with them just yet,” replied the detective. “No
doubt they’re guilty, but you haven’t a thing in the world on them in
connection with this plan. You just saw them speak to this man. But any
fan at a ball game may speak to another. No, the only chance you have
is to get this scientific bug and trust that he’ll peach on them.”
They were sorely disappointed, but they recognized the truth of what
O’Brien said. They had not a scintilla of legal evidence as yet, and a
premature accusation would simply put Harrish and Tompkinson on their
guard. They must wait.
But despite their chagrin, the hearts of Joe and Jim were simply
singing at their discovery of the morning. No more mystery! No more
apprehension! No more sleepless nights! No more fears that their
livelihood was threatened, that their usefulness was ended!
They had taken on a new lease of life. They had laid the jinx!
And how completely they had laid him was evident in the weeks that
followed. Never had they pitched with such deadly precision, such
complete mastery over their opponents. Their arms, freed from the
malign rays that had gradually been undermining their strength and that
would undoubtedly if continued have led to eventual paralysis, had
quickly regained their former cunning and power. All teams looked alike
to them, and their going into the box soon came to be recognized as
almost synonymous with chalking up a victory.
The rest of the pitching staff caught the spirit of victory. The
infield and the outfield played like men possessed. Whether at home or
on the road, it made no difference.
Steadily the gap widened between the Giants and the Pittsburghs and the
Cubs, their most formidable competitors. It seemed as though one of the
records that Joe had hung up as a goal was sure to be realized, namely
that the Giants should win more games than they ever had before in a
single season. A continuation of their present work would make that
dream a certainty.
And in the games played at home, it was an immense satisfaction to view
the faces of Harrish and Tompkinson in the grandstand as victory after
victory was hung up for the Giants. Those rascals attended the games
regularly, and that they were rooting violently for the Giants to lose
was evident from the glumness of their faces as they saw the other
teams mowed down.
“Regular undertakers’ party!” chuckled Jim as he watched them.
“No wonder,” laughed Joe. “Two hundred thousand iron men, simoleons,
bones, bucks, coin of the realm of standard weight and refinement――all
to be thrown into the gutter because that infernal ray of theirs went
wrong. Who wouldn’t be like a mourner at a funeral?”
“With worse to come as soon as that old scientist can be rounded up,”
exulted Jim. “It’s funny O’Brien and his men haven’t found hide or hair
of him.”
“He’s certainly some crafty old fox,” admitted Joe. “But the cunningest
fox can be run to his hole some time.”
“How’s Reggie’s law suit coming on?” asked Jim.
“Haworth says that it will be on the calendar at the next term of
court,” replied Joe. “He’s been tracing up the work of those fellows
and he tells me that he has a dead open and shut case against them.
The papers will be served just as soon as Reggie comes to town to sign
them, and he’s due next week.”
Reggie did come into town a few days later, as immaculate as ever,
delighted with the success of the Giants and elated at the prospects
that his lawyer held out to him regarding his suit.
The day following his arrival Reggie and Joe were going down the stairs
of a subway station on their way to visit Haworth’s office.
At the foot of the stairs an elderly woman bumped into Joe and dropped
one of her packages. Joe picked it up and handed it back to her with a
pleasant smile.
Recognition flashed into the woman’s eyes and with a scream of delight
she dropped all her packages and threw her arms about Joe’s neck.