His room was directly opposite the elevator, or he would never have reached it. The door was, luckily, unlocked, and he managed to step in and close it behind him. As his finger instinctively pressed the electric button close at hand, flooding the room with light, he gave a sudden stifled cry.
He was to pitch to-morrow in the first practice game of the season. The remembrance stabbed through his fading senses like a knife. He had meant to show Brennan what there was in him. He had planned to strain every effort in order that the manager should forget his first unfortunate fiasco. And now—
He groaned aloud. Then, with a long, shuddering sigh, he felt his legs crumple under him. A black curtain fell before his eyes.
CHAPTER XI
ALL IN
When Lefty came to himself the electric lights were still blazing in sickly opposition to the bright sunshine which poured through the two windows. For a moment or two he lay wondering what had happened and why he was stretched out on the floor, fully dressed. Then the dull, throbbing pain in his head brought him to a sitting posture, with a groan.
He glanced at the bed and saw that it was untouched. He looked up dazedly at the cluster of lights, then down at his rumpled shirtfront. The glitter of his gold fob caught his eye, and, with an effort, he pulled out his watch.
“Twenty-five minutes to eight,” he muttered. “Time I was getting—”
He broke off abruptly and drew his breath with a swift intake as he remembered. The game was to begin at eight-thirty. He was to pitch for the Yannigans!