"Past two," said the shortstop, for once seeming unwilling to talk. "Better get to sleep—you'll be in again to-day."
"Where have you been?" asked McCarthy, wide awake in an instant and interested.
"Trailing," replied Swanson. "I've found out a few things. Meanwhile I had a talk with Clancy. You little squarehead, why didn't you tell him I was with you? Do you want to get yourself in bad by some fool notion of protecting me? I couldn't tell him what we were doing—but I told him you were with me, that you weren't drinking, and that you weren't with Edwards."
"What have you been doing all night?" asked McCarthy, restored to happiness by the tidings.
"Finding out things. I trailed Williams downtown right after the game. He had dinner with Edwards in a private room. I couldn't find out what happened, but Williams came out looking as if he had been jerked through a knot hole. Then Edwards met that fat party that had you in his room."
"Is he in it, too?" asked McCarthy.
"Yes—who and what is he?"
"His name is Baldwin. He's a big politician and broker here in the East and I knew him out West, where he owns a ranch."
"What did he want with you?"
"He wanted me to quit the team and run back home. I told him where he got off. The idea of asking me to quit the boys now, when they may need me!"