“But I don’t see–”
Stillman leaned forward. “Listen: I am not at liberty to disclose the sources of my information, but it has come to me that this idea of wrecking the Blue Stockings originated in Parlmee’s brain. He saw himself losing out in the fight for Virginia Collier, and he became desperate. Conditions were ripe. Collier had hit the toboggan, financially and otherwise. A man of considerable strength of will, he had begun to break down. Parlmee knew of his plan to go abroad for his health, and of the arrangement to leave Bailey Weegman in charge of affairs. Collier had a great deal of confidence in Weegman’s ability, and this would now be put to the test. If Weegman should make a grand failure, as Parlmee intended he should, Collier would lose all faith in him; and probably, in his disappointment, he would hand him the g. b. That, above all things, was most to be desired by Parlmee, as it would get out of the way the rival who threatened to defeat him. How to put the thing across was the question. I am willing to give Parlmee the credit of a long-headed piece of work. He knew Weegman must be kept in the dark, must never be permitted to suspect that he was being used as a tool by his hated enemy.”
“It sounds altogether too impossible,” said Locke. But, to his annoyance, in spite of his persistently expressed faith, a shadowy uncertainty, a tiny, nagging doubt, was creeping into his mind. Stillman seemed so absolutely confident of his ground.
“Through his long association with Miss Collier,” the reporter pursued calmly, “Parlmee had learned much about inside conditions in baseball. He had plenty of opportunities to get at things entirely hidden from, or merely suspected by, the general public. He knew Garrity was a grasping scoundrel, who had long regarded the Blue Stockings with a covetous eye, and that, being utterly unscrupulous, he would do anything, as long as he could keep in the background, to break Collier’s grip and get his own soiled paws on the property. Therefore, Garrity was the man to deal with, and to Garrity Parlmee went. They met under cover in Chicago, and the deal was fixed up between them. Then Garrity got at Weegman, the real stool pigeon and the fall guy of the whole plot.”
Locke was listening without protest now. In spite of his desire not to believe, Stillman’s theory seemed possible; he would not yet admit, even to himself, that it was probable. Janet, too, was silent. The color had left her face, and beneath the table her hands were tightly clenched.
“Weegman was just ass enough to fall for it,” continued Stillman contemptuously. “What Garrity promised him I can’t say, but certainly it must have been a satisfactory percentage of the loot–maybe an interest in the team when Garrity got control; and Weegman would sell his soul for money. The moment Collier was out of the way he got to work. You know as well as I do what success he’s had. In order to cover his tracks as far as possible, he has picked you for the goat, and he’ll try to shunt all the blame on you.”
Lefty’s face was grim. He was endeavoring to look at the matter fairly and without bias. To himself he was compelled to admit that his knowledge of Parlmee had been obtained through casual association with the man, not through business dealings, and in no small degree, he, as well as Janet, had doubtless been influenced by the sentiments of Virginia Collier. A girl in love may be easily deceived; many girls, blinded by their own infatuation, have made heroes of thoroughbred scoundrels. It was practically impossible, however, for Locke to picture Parlmee as a scoundrel.
“You have made a statement, Jack,” he said, “without offering a particle of corroborating proof. How do you know all this to be true?”
“I have the word of a man I trust that Parlmee and Garrity had that secret meeting in Chicago, just as I have stated. A few days ago Parlmee made a flying trip to Indianapolis, and–”
“I know that,” interrupted Lefty. “I was in Indianapolis at the time. I met him there and had a brief talk with him.”