But there was another name which they served—a name which Benton King had declared rightfully belonged to the man who called himself Tom Locke.
CHAPTER XXXIII
KING AROUSED
Benton King, politely invited—nay, urged—to call on Bob Hutchinson at the Central Hotel, dropped round that same Sunday afternoon, out of passing curiosity, and listened with swiftly growing interest to what Hutchinson had to tell.
“I knew it!” exclaimed King triumphantly, when the vengeful manager had finished. “I knew it all the time, but I didn’t have the proof. For the last few days I’ve been expecting a letter that ought to contain all the proof anybody wants.”
“What more,” inquired Hutchinson, “do you want than what I have given you? I have shown you the letter written to Hazelton, which was mailed to him in an envelope addressed to Tom Locke. That certainly nails it on him for fair.”
“Yes,” said Bent, with a nod, “but I’ll have something more convincing than that for a skeptical person, if I’m not badly mistaken. He was a fool to deny his identity in the first place.”
“Right; especially to his manager. We protect college guys who confide in us, and let them play under fake names if they wish, but this man has been crooked with me, and there’s no reason why I should cover him up. You should have seen the other letter I spoke of, the one he was writing. I read it, thinking he might give himself away. He knocked me in it, and he soaked you.”
“Me?”