CHAPTER XXVI
THE DEADLY RAY
Jim looked at his chum in astonishment.
“What do you mean?” he gasped.
“Who do you suppose are our worst enemies in this city just now?” replied Joe, adopting the Yankee method of answering a question by asking one. “Who is it that is most interested in having us downed, in seeing the Giants lose the pennant?”
“Harrish and Tompkinson, I suppose,” answered Jim promptly. “They and their gang stand to lose two hundred thousand dollars if we win.”
“Precisely,” agreed Joe. “Well, I saw them in the grandstand this afternoon.”
“But what if you did?” replied Jim, somewhat disappointed at what seemed an anti-climax. “They are there almost every day. I’ve seen the scoundrels a dozen times since you had your mix-up.”
“Right enough,” admitted Joe. “In itself that stands for nothing. But right behind them was sitting a man whom I know but you don’t. Did I ever mention to you the incident of the old fellow who bumped into me at the newsstand?”
“I don’t think you did,” returned Jim, wondering what his friend was driving at.
Joe briefly sketched the happening.