"Which one?" demanded the manager angrily.
"He didn't know him, except that he was a ball player. He was a sandy-haired fellow, rather slender and wiry looking."
"McCarthy—maybe," said the manager thoughtfully and worried. "I didn't think that bird would do it. Something funny."
He had leaped at the identification.
"That isn't the worst of it, Bill," continued McMahon, "that fellow was with Easy Ed Edwards and a big fat guy in a dress suit."
"What?" demanded Clancy, starting indignantly. "Sure of that?"
"Johnny knows Ed Edwards. They sat in the booth over there and had four quarts of wine, and the player was pretty well lighted up when they got out."
"Thanks, Mac," said Clancy worriedly. "This is tough news at this stage of the game. I'll have to take a look into it."
Clancy, his weather-beaten face furrowed with a heavy frown, walked slowly back to the hotel.
President Bannard, of the Bears, was waiting for him in the lobby.