Skullen kept still as directed, but he looked as if Weegman’s first words had surprised him a trifle.
Kennedy had produced a fountain pen and thrust it into Locke’s hand. “Sign right here, son,” he urged. “Let’s see how pretty you write.”
“Wait!” cried Weegman, his eyes on the southpaw, who had promptly moved up to the little table. “You haven’t forgotten our talk? You understand?”
“I haven’t forgotten a thing,” asserted Lefty, boldly and swiftly writing his name. “There it is!”
CHAPTER XVI
THE WRONG STOOL PIGEON
Skullen and Kennedy attached their names as witnesses. The thing was done; Lefty Locke–Philip Hazelton was the name he wrote on the contract–was now manager of the Blue Stockings. He received a duplicate copy, which he folded and slipped into his pocket.
“Now we’re all set for business,” said Bailey Weegman. “I congratulate you, Locke. One time I was afraid you didn’t have sense enough to welcome Opportunity when she knocked. I’ll see you later, Mit, if you’re around. We’ve got to square away now and have a little conference. Don’t cry because you didn’t get the job.”
“Cry–nothin’!” said Skullen. “I wouldn’t have taken it if you’d handed it to me with twice the salary.”
“Old Mit’s disappointed,” chuckled Weegman, when the door closed behind him, “but he doesn’t want anybody to know it. He’ll deny he came looking for the position, of course.”