GIVEN THE LIE
The calmness of the speaker had its effect on the trembling young
fellow, who stood there, hands clenched, breast heaving, slowly
beginning to realize that it was his duty to do nothing that
would humiliate the girl and involve her in the speculations of
scandal-loving tongues.
“Let me out now,” he said, after a few moments, “and I’ll meet Hazelton
as he is coming back. Miss Harting’s name shall not be mentioned.”
“That’s a bit more reasonable, but further thought ought to convince
you that there’s nothing but folly in getting into a fist fight with
him, in which you are sure to come off second best. Why give him the
satisfaction of whipping you? You know it’s more than an even gamble
that he would.”
Hutchinson looked sharply at King.
“Now, listen to me. You say the girl hates a liar, and he has sworn
in her presence that he is not Hazelton,” said the manager. “If you
prove to her that he lied, isn’t it likely she’ll drop him like a hot
flatiron? In that way, you’ll protect her, all right, and you’ll put
the blade into him, after which any comparison on her part between
you and the man who tried to deceive her will be decidedly to your
advantage.”
“Yes,” admitted King, “perhaps so, but to think of him trying to carry
this thing through in such a brazen――”
“He has simply besmirched himself, and his sojourn in Kingsbridge
will be brief. Mike Riley has in his possession a letter from Paul
Hazelton, which, as it is an effort to jack Riley up in the matter of
salary――Riley having made Hazelton an offer to pitch for Bancroft――will
establish Bancroft’s prior claim to the man. As near as I can learn,
old Cope got Hazelton by paying him a preposterously big sum.”
“If he goes to Bancroft, he’ll still be pitching in the league and
appearing regularly in Kingsbridge.”
Hutchinson permitted a frosty smile to fade across his face. “He’ll
never pitch for Bancroft or any other team in the Northern League.
Riley is sore. I am telling you in confidence that we have talked the
matter over and agreed that Hazelton shall be suspended indefinitely
for tricky work. That will put an end to his meteoric career in
these parts. All that was needed was proof positive that the man was
Hazelton, and I have it.”
“When will he be suspended?”
“Some time this present week, when a meeting of the league association
will be called in Bancroft especially to consider his case. Doubtless
you know that Riley has already served notice on us that all games won
by Kingsbridge with Locke on the mound will be protested. As a pitcher
around here, the fellow is as good as a dead one this minute. He has
killed himself in college baseball, also.”
“Which serves him right. But what will Kingsbridge do for a first-class
pitcher?”
“I have one man coming, and another on the string. The first one I
expect to arrive by Tuesday or Wednesday, at the latest. If I am left
to manage this team, with no interference from Cope, I’ll manage it
right. He has messed things up beautifully and given us a bad start.”
They talked until the scheming manager saw that King, though brooding,
had calmed down; then, satisfied with what he had accomplished he
unlocked the door.
Hutchinson descended the stairs with King. At the foot of the flight
they encountered Tom Locke, just coming from the hotel office in
company with Larry Stark. The pitcher had been telling Stark something,
and both men were laughing. Believing he knew what Locke had been
saying, and that it concerned Janet Harting, the lumber magnate’s son
was again obsessed with white-hot anger.
“You’ll laugh out of the other side of your mouth in a day or two,
Hazelton!” he rasped.
“I beg your pardon,” Tom returned, flushing. “My amusement does not
concern you, King; and will you be good enough to call me Locke?”
“No, I will not; I’ll call you by your right name, which is Paul
Hazelton. Deny it here, if you have the nerve.”
“Very well, I do deny it.”
“Then you’re a liar!”
He did not wait for the retaliation the insult seemed certain to bring,
but leaped, with the final bitter word, at the accused man’s throat.
Stepping sideways like a flash, Locke caught him as he sprang, whirled
him round, slammed him up against the near-by partition, and held him
there. The quickness and strength of the pitcher was amazing.
Instantly Stark sprang to part them, exclaiming:
“Don’t hit him, Tom――don’t hit him!”
“I haven’t any intention of hitting him――this time,” answered Locke.
“But that was a nasty word he used, and he should be more careful.”
Hutchinson took a hand. Two or three other men came quickly from the
office and joined in holding the struggling, panting lumber king’s son
in check, Locke having released him and permitted himself to be pushed
back.
“I say he’s a liar!” shouted Benton. “He knows he lies! I’ll prove
it for everybody. Take your hands off me, and I’ll fight him here or
anywhere else. I dare him to meet me like a man! He hasn’t the courage!
He’s a coward!”
“You’re plumb anxious to get your face broke, ain’t ye?” snapped Larry
Stark. “You wouldn’t last a minute with him. What’s eating you, anyhow?”
The hotel proprietor indignantly announced that he did not propose to
have a fight in his house.
“I’m surprised, Mr. King, that you should start trouble here,” he said.
“I ask you, as a gentleman, to quit it.”
“All right, Mr. Sawyer,” said Bent. “As you have put it up to me that
way, it goes. Take your hands off me, everybody. I won’t touch him
again――here.”
“I didn’t notice that you touched him at all,” grinned Stark.
“But,” declared King, smoothing his rumpled coat and straightening his
necktie, “I’m not done with him, as he is due to find out. I’ll get him
yet, and get him good.”
After giving Locke a parting look of venomous hatred, the young man
turned toward the open door and passed out.