He hesitated, his eyes fixed curiously on the big man’s face, which during that short speech had mirrored a variety of emotions that were passing through the man’s mind. Incredulity, surprise, amazement, uneasiness, and consternation flitted rapidly across it and finally gave place to a sinister look of rage which was not prepossessing.
“Say, what yer giving us?” he said hoarsely.
“The truth,” Morrison returned simply. “He’s all I said he was, and more.”
Taking out his cigarette case, he selected a cigarette, passing the case to Hewett. Lighting up, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed keenly on McDonough’s face.
The big man was staring absently at the table, his heavy brows drawn together in a black scowl. With one square, callous forefinger he traced a pattern with some vichy which had spilled on the polished surface. All at once he raised his head and looked fixedly at Morrison, who gave a slight start at the expression he saw in those sullen orbs.
“Unless—what?” demanded McDonough in a suppressed tone.
Morrison hesitated.
“Unless—well, there’re plenty of ways to stop a man from playing baseball,” he finished lightly.
For a full minute the two looked at each other in silence. It seemed that something was passing from one mind to the other. Then the big fellow arose slowly to his feet.
“Much obliged,” he said shortly.