“I am,” chuckled Charles Collier’s private secretary. “It was all arranged with Mr. Collier before he sailed. He left me with proper authority. I am to sign up the manager for the team.”
“Is that right?” exclaimed Locke, surprised. “Then, according to your own statement, if you want to save the Blue Stockings from being riddled, you’d better be about it.”
“I am,” said Weegman. “That’s why I’ve come to you.”
“For advice?”
“Oh, no!” He laughed heartily. “I don’t need that. I know what I’m about. I’ve brought a contract. I want you to put your name to it. Your salary will be advanced fifteen hundred dollars.”
“The Feds offered to double it. As a pitcher–”
“You’re not getting this extra money on account of your pitching,” interposed Weegman promptly. “I’m offering you the increase of salary to assume the additional duties of manager.”
CHAPTER II
SOMETHING QUEER
The expression of amazement that leaped into the eyes of Lefty Locke was masked by a shadow. He stiffened, and sat bolt upright, speechless.