“Then it’s a simple matter,” whispered Hammerswell eagerly. “If you can fix it with the head waiter, I will provide the drug.”
“What sort of a drug?” asked Fernald. “I don’t like to monkey with stuff unless I know how it is going to work. I don’t want to poison any one.”
“Don’t worry about that. I know a drug that will do the work, and it’s perfectly tasteless.”
“Where do you get it?”
“I’ll get it. Leave that to me. If you will fix it with the head waiter, I’ll provide the powder.”
“Explain how the stuff works on a man who takes it,” urged Fernald.
“It takes the life and judgment out of him. He loses his strength.”
“Then it doesn’t knock him flat? It doesn’t put him down and out?”
“Not a bit of that. He’ll keep on his feet, but he’ll be useless as a ball player.”
“Get me the dope,” hissed Fernald. “I will guarantee to reach Buckhart. I’ll soak that fellow, and I hope he makes a holy show of himself to-morrow.”