"Baldwin," said the gambler, leaning forward again and speaking in low tones, "you see to it that the Panthers beat the Bears out in that pennant race, and I'll deliver you at least five votes for your man."
"That's easy," remarked Baldwin. "I can turn that quickly enough, but I don't see where you get off."
"You make it a sure thing and I'll tend to my own part of it," said the gambler. "I'll get mine, but I'm not so certain you can do it as easily as you think."
"Why not—don't both clubs belong to me?"
"Sure they do," said the gambler, "but baseball is a hard thing to monkey with. You've got to handle it carefully, for if the fact came out we'd be in such hot water we'd both scald."
"Nonsense," said Baldwin testily. "I'll call the presidents in, explain what I want and let them do it."
"Keep off that stuff," warned the gambler. "You don't seem to know much about this game. If you tried to tell Clancy to lose this pennant he'd run straight to some reporter, and the whole country would be up in arms. I shouldn't wonder if they'd lynch you."
"Then how do you propose having it done?" asked the political boss, for once willing to listen to advice. He had no qualms of conscience. To him baseball meant a game, and the fact that hundreds of thousands of persons in all parts of the country were vitally interested either in the Bears or the Panthers did not count with him. He only sought the easiest and safest way to accomplish his ends without arousing suspicion.
"I have one of the Bears fixed," said Edwards. "But I'm afraid of him. He is crooked and willing to deliver, but he is yellow—lacks courage—and he is likely to fail to deliver just when I need him most. The first thing I want you to do is to help stiffen this fellow's backbone. After that we'll try to get at someone else. If you say it's all right and promise to protect them we will find it easier."
"This must be a big thing for you, Edwards," suggested Baldwin as another drink was served and the waiter departed.