“I didn’t,” said Joe. “I was simply bluffing him to a showdown. But I happen to know how bucketing is worked, and I went on the conviction that that was what he had been doing. If you had been dealing with a reputable broker I’d have gone at things in quite another way. But I already knew Harrish for a crook, and a man who is crooked in one line will be crooked in another. And I studied his eyes all the time I was talking, and saw fear and falsehood in them. I’m convinced in my own mind that I hit the truth.”
“Now, what next?” asked Reggie.
“The next thing,” Joe replied, “is to put the matter into the hands of a lawyer. I’m going to go over the whole thing again with Bigelow, the assistant district attorney you heard me mention. Of course he can’t do anything until and unless the case comes before him in a criminal action, but he can recommend some shrewd lawyer, and we’ll have him take up the case. In the meantime, you can give me your power of attorney so that I can act for you in the matter. Just leave the whole thing to me, Reggie, and you go back to Goldsboro and stop worrying. I have a hunch that we’re going to give Harrish a good lively time before we get through with him.”
That Reggie was only too glad to do this goes without saying. The last thing he wanted was to have his father learn of his speculations. In the course of the next few days Joe had taken up the matter with an able lawyer, a Mr. Haworth, and set a train of inquiries in motion calculated to cause still more uneasiness to the already badly agitated Mr. Harrish.
On the afternoon of the day that he had visited Harrish, Joe told McRae in the clubhouse of the events of the morning. McRae knew Reggie well and liked him, and he was sincerely sorry to hear of the loss that threatened him.
“That fellow’s bad medicine,” he remarked. “He’s rotten through and through. Keep right after him, Joe, and in the meantime I’ll have O’Brien on the job and do all I can to put a spoke in his wheel. I can see Sing Sing yawning for him. But how are you feeling now, Joe? How’s the old soup bone?”
“Pretty fair,” replied Joe. “Most of the time it feels as well as ever, but at times I have a strange tingling sensation in it. I guess it will be all right pretty soon.”
“I’m afraid we’ve been overworking you,” said McRae. “Riding a willing horse to death. You’d better let up for a few days and let the other pitchers bear the brunt of the work.”
As Jim had pitched only a few innings on the preceding day, McRae put him in for the second game with the Bostons and he justified his choice. He gave a superb exhibition of pitching and turned in a victory with an ample margin.