THE TEST AND THE DENIAL
At the post office, as he had hoped, King met Janet. Since Sunday, he
had scarcely caught a glimpse of her, but he knew she sometimes came
for the mail near that hour, and the knowledge brought him there from
the mill. As she was leaving, he joined her, making an excuse to walk
in the same direction.
They chatted about various trivial things, Janet seeming quite
light-hearted. He, however, was troubled; he wished that she would
speak of baseball, which would make it easier for him to introduce the
matter that was on his mind. Coming in sight of the parsonage at last,
he decided to delay no longer.
“I understand,” he said abruptly, “that Kingsbridge’s great pitcher,
Locke, is in trouble.”
“In trouble?” she exclaimed, surprised. “How?” The undisguised depth of
her interest, and her all too apparent alarm, gave him a stab of anger.
“Oh,” he answered, with pretended carelessness, “it has just leaked
out that he played a rather slick two-handed game with Bancroft and
Kingsbridge, and Mike Riley is making a holler about it. He professes
to hold first claim on the man. If so, this town will lose the mighty
southpaw.”
Her alarm became almost panicky.
“I don’t understand, and I don’t believe a word of it. It’s only
another of Riley’s tricks. How can he have any claim on Lefty?”
He explained.
“Oh,” said Janet, “is Lefty really and truly a college man? I felt sure
he could not be just an ordinary professional player. He seems far too
refined and well bred.”
“He’s a college man, all right. He looked familiar to me at first
sight, but I was not sure I had seen him before. His name is Hazelton,
and he did some pitching for Princeton this year, but I don’t think he
was a regular on that team until the end of last season. I suppose he
thought that, coming away up here in the bush, he could get by under a
fake name without being found out. They’re wise to him, however, and
now he’s in bad. It should end his career as a college pitcher.”
“That would be a shame!”
King shrugged his shoulders.
“Why so? A college player who goes into the game professionally
deserves no sympathy if exposed. He’s crooked, and he has no right ever
again to appear on his college nine.”
“I don’t believe Lefty would do anything crooked,” she declared
stoutly. “He has an honest face. You’re prejudiced against him, Bent.”
“It isn’t prejudice,” was his defense. “The facts speak for themselves.
If he is Hazelton, of Princeton, playing here under a false name, he’s
dishonest.”
“Then I don’t believe he is Hazelton, at all.”
They had stopped at the cottage steps.
“I have wired for proof,” he said grimly. “I did so Monday, and I’ll
know positively before long. Already, however, I am quite satisfied;
for if the man isn’t Hazelton why should Riley make such a claim? And
why doesn’t Henry Cope deny it?”
“I didn’t think it of you!” she cried, her face flushed and her eyes
scornful. “I didn’t think you would do such a thing, Benton King.”
“I wished to satisfy myself regarding the man’s honesty,” he explained,
still standing on the defensive. “I had no intention of making public
such knowledge as I might obtain about him. I’ll own up that I did mean
to tell you, for I wished you to know just what sort of a person he is.
You’re altogether too interested in him, Janet, and I care too much for
you to see you fooled by a fellow of his character.”
She tossed her head.
“I think your motive was purely personal.”
“Janet!” he exclaimed reproachfully.
“I can’t help it! I can’t help thinking so! I won’t believe Tom Locke
is deceptive, dishonest, crooked; and it seems that is what he must be
if he, a college man, is playing here for money under a false name.”
“Just so. And, as he happens to be coming down the street this minute,
we’ll put him to the test. Will you let me ask him a few questions
before you?”
She had turned swiftly to look; her face lost some color as she saw
Locke, accompanied by two other players, all in uniforms, coming that
way. They had been at the field for morning practice, and, after making
a cut across lots, were following that street back into town.
As Janet hesitated, doubtful, and ready to hurry into the house, King
again sought permission to interrogate the man while she listened.
“If you will leave it to me,” he promised, “I’ll not embarrass you by
giving him reason to believe we have had a discussion about him.”
“Very well,” said the girl faintly, standing her ground.
Locke and his companions lifted their caps as they drew near, and Bent,
unsmiling, lifted his hat. In a cold voice, he called:
“O, Locke, I say, would you mind stopping a moment?”
A flicker of surprise passed over Lefty’s face. He stopped, and his
companions went on.
“How do you do, Mr. Locke?” said Janet, in a voice which she tried hard
to keep steady.
“I didn’t see you at the game Tuesday, Miss Harting,” said the pitcher.
“I wasn’t there. I should have enjoyed it, but father is opposed to the
game, and objects to my attending.”
“You will be missed.”
King’s teeth clicked, and the frigid expression on his face was
blotted by a hot frown. He measured Locke with his eyes, getting for
the first time the impression that the man was far better set up
than he had supposed, and not quite as slender. Also, he was struck
by the conviction that Locke was older than he had fancied; although
his face looked somewhat boyish――particularly so at a distance, upon
the baseball field――upon closer inspection it appeared more manly and
seemed to possess a certain sort of dignity. Surely there was nothing
common or ordinary about the fellow.
“Pardon me, Locke,” said Bent, “but――do you know?――you’ve puzzled me a
bit!”
“Really? In what manner?”
“At first sight of you, last Saturday, I felt that I had seen you
somewhere before. I’m sure of it now.”
“I don’t recall ever having seen you outside of this town.”
“That’s not strange. I’m not a baseball player, although I am a Harvard
man. Yes, there’s no doubt about it, I have seen you.”
“When?” asked Locke, as if the question came from unwilling lips.
“Where?”
“At Cambridge,” asserted King, keeping his eyes fixed unwaveringly on
the other man’s face, “a year ago this past spring, when Princeton
played Harvard. You did not pitch, but you were on the Princeton bench.”
There was a hush, in which Bent, still keeping his eyes fixed on
Locke’s face, could hear Janet breathing quickly through her parted
lips. His heart leaped, for Lefty was faltering, and it seemed that
the girl must perceive the faint shade of dismay that passed over his
face.
“I think you are mistaken,” said the pitcher, breaking the silence at
last.
King laughed.
“You _think_ so! Really? Then perhaps you will deny that you were
there?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I deny it.”
“Do you mean to say you were not there?”
“I was not there.”
Swiftly lifting his hand, Benton pointed a level, accusing finger like
a pistol at Locke’s face.
“Perhaps,” he cried, “you will make an additional denial. Perhaps you
will deny that you are Paul Hazelton, of Princeton?”
Janet leaned forward, her hands clasped, her blue eyes full of
suspense. So much depended on the forthcoming answer! If he were to
confess that he had been named by King, she felt that henceforth she
must hold him in disdain as being all that Benton had asserted he was.
But if he should deny it―― His lips parted to reply:
“Most certainly I deny it! I am not Paul Hazelton, of Princeton.”
The girl uttered a little cry of joyous relief:
“There, there! You see――you see, you were mistaken, Bent. I knew――I knew
you must be! I knew it could not be true. I was sure Lefty――he――Mr.
Locke wouldn’t do a thing like that. I’m so glad!”
But, although surprised by the man’s nerve, Benton King was not jostled
from the perch of belief on which he had settled. He had thought that
the fellow, fairly cornered, would not dare to make a point-blank
denial. It seemed, however, that Locke had elected to play the hand
out, even with the leading trumps against him. He turned and smiled
into the blue eyes of the rejoicing girl.
“And I am glad to know you felt so sure I wouldn’t do a thing like
that. I trust your confidence in me may never waver.”
“For real, pure bluff,” thought Bent King, “that’s the limit! But it’s
a losing game. He’s fouled himself now for fair.”
Getting his breath, he spoke aloud:
“It’s strange I should make such a mistake, Mr. Locke――very strange. Of
course, I know that many college players go in for summer ball on the
quiet. Just to satisfy my own curiosity, I’ve sent for some information
concerning Paul Hazelton, who made a record by pitching and winning
two of Princeton’s big games recently. Of course, as you say you are
not Hazelton, I might have spared myself the trouble. Still, if the
friend to whom I sent can get hold of a picture of Hazelton, it will be
amusing to make a comparison between that likeness and yourself, just
to see how strong the resemblance may be. I have an idea that Hazelton
is almost your perfect double.”
“It would be rather odd, wouldn’t it, if it should prove so?” smiled
Locke coolly. “Still, such things sometimes happen. I think I’ll hustle
along to the hotel. Good morning, Mr. King. Good morning, Miss Harting.
I trust I’ll soon have the pleasure of seeing you again at the games.”
They stood there and watched his retreating figure until he passed from
view round a corner. Janet’s face, though showing satisfaction, was a
bit haughty and accusing as she spoke to Bent.
“I hope you realize now,” she said bitingly, “that you have made a big
blunder.”
“No,” he returned, “it was that man Hazelton who made the blunder in
denying his identity.”
“Why――why, do you still think――”
“I haven’t the slightest doubt in the world――he is Paul Hazelton. I’ll
prove to your satisfaction, Janet, that he is not only dishonest, but a
most contemptible liar, as well.”