“A dictograph!” answered Lefty. “I had it put in two days ago. When you met me a short time ago and asked for a private interview I started to turn you down. Then I saw old Jack Kennedy and Stillman, the reporter, in the background. They gave me a signal. Thirty seconds after we entered this room they were in the room adjoining, listening by means of that dictograph to every word that passed between us. We’ve got you, Weegman, and we’ve got Garrity, too. Criminal conspiracy is a rather serious matter.”
All the defiance had faded from Bailey Weegman’s eyes. He trembled; he could not command even a ghost of a laugh. He started violently, and gasped, as there came a sharp rap on the door.
“They want to take another good look at you to clinch matters so that they can make oath to your identity,” said Locke, swiftly crossing and flinging the door open. “Come in, gentlemen!”
Kennedy and Stillman entered. Weegman cowered before them. They regarded him disdainfully.
“You beaned him all right, Lefty,” said the ex-manager. “He wasn’t looking for the curve you put over that time.”
The reporter paused to light a cigarette. “After your arrest, Weegman,” he said, “I advise you to make haste to turn State’s evidence. It’s your only chance to escape doing a nice long bit in the stone jug.” He turned, closed the door behind him, and shot the bolt again. “In the meantime,” he added, “I think we can persuade you to refrain from warning Garrity regarding what is coming to him shortly after eleven o’clock to-morrow.”
Looking feeble and broken, Charles Collier sat at his desk in the office of the Blue Stockings Baseball Club. On the desk before him lay the books of the club and a mass of letters and documents. At one end of the desk sat Tom Garrity, smoking a big cigar and looking like a Napoleon who dreamed of no impending Waterloo. He was speaking. His words and manner were those of a conqueror.
“You can see how the land lies, Collier. You should have sold out your interest in the team before going abroad. Weegman made a mess of it. To-day you can’t realize fifty cents on the dollar. I’ve offered you my Northern Can stock for your holdings. That’s the best way out for you now. If you refuse you’ll lose Northern Can and the team, both. Better save one by sacrificing the other.”
Collier wearily lifted a protesting hand. “You don’t have to repeat it, Garrity; I know you’ve got me cornered. I’m merely waiting for Weegman. He promised to be here at eleven. It’s past that hour.”
Without asking permission, Garrity reached for the desk phone. “I’ll call in my lawyers,” he said. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”