"You're signed for third for this game, Budge! I'm going to catch."
"We've got a couple of spare suits," said Beverage. "Come on over to the hotel and change."
In fifteen minutes Lane and Spurling were back on the field in Camden uniforms and the game had begun.
The contest was a hot one. The teams were evenly matched, and the result hung in doubt up to the last inning. The crowd boiled with enthusiasm and the supporters of each team cheered themselves hoarse.
In the middle of the fifth inning, when the excitement was running highest, a slim, bareheaded figure with a tow pompadour sprouting above a fog-burnt face leaped suddenly up at the right end of the top row in the stand.
It was Percy. Exhilarated by the closeness of the game, he had forgotten his grudge against Spurling & Company. He flourished a roll of bills.
"Two to one on Camden!" he shouted in a high-keyed voice.
All heads turned his way. For a moment nobody spoke. Percy mistook the silence. He struck a theatric attitude.
"Three to one! Are you afraid to support your home team?"