“Certainly I am sure. I never was with any such team.”
“Weren’t you once with the Giants, at Portland?”
“No—y-e-s, I was for one day.”
“Ah,” said Professor Terbush, turning to the others with an “I told you so” air, “I thought as much.”
“Hold on a moment, Mr. Terbush,” said Lattiser. “This isn’t any of my cross-examination, but it seems the witness needs a lawyer. Tell us the circumstances, Kirkland.”
Larry, who had been confused and guilty-looking under the accusing looks and tone of the faculty member, flashed a grateful smile at Lattiser, as he suddenly recalled having told the veteran of his experience with the Giants.
“It was when I was nearly fifteen years old,” he said. “I met them—or one of them—on a train coming West. They took me out to the ball park with them and I sat on the bench with them during the game and that night I came on home. I never have seen the team since.”
“That hardly makes a professional of him, Professor,” laughed Lattiser.
“Ahem—I suppose not,” agreed Professor Terbush, “providing the young man is able to sustain his statements with proof. However, that is but part of the indictment against him.”
He paused, cleared his throat and waved the accusing letter impressively. “It also is charged that he has employed a professional from that team to coach him.”