“This you, O’Brien?” he said when he had secured the extension he wanted. “Listen, Tom. Come up here to the Polo Grounds on the jump. Bring a good man with you. Yes, one will be enough. We’ll give you any further help you want. Tell you all about it when I see you. All right, Tom. Thanks. Good-by.”
He put up the receiver and turned to the others.
“We’ll get after those scoundrels right away,” he announced. “And all I ask is that I may get a chance to lay these two hands of mine on any or all of them. If I do, there’ll be little mercy shown them!”
Nothing was said about the matter to the other members of the team for fear of upsetting them by the knowledge of the plot against their chances, and the game went on as usual. Bradley was in the box and pitched one of his best games, scoring a victory by an ample margin.
Before the game ended O’Brien of the detective squad was on hand with a policeman accompanying him whom Joe recognized as Lonergan.
“What’s up, Mac?” asked O’Brien, a burly, powerful man, after he had shaken hands and been introduced to the others.
“Plenty, Tom,” replied McRae and briefly sketched the situation. “I want to nab the bird who’s operating that infernal machine. Probably he’ll peach on his confederates. Of course, I haven’t had time to swear out a warrant——”
O’Brien grinned.
“I guess we can get over that little formality,” he said. “Any one of several things will do, ‘suspicious character,’ ‘disorderly conduct,’ ‘assault with a deadly weapon.’ Leave that to me and pile into the car.”
They climbed into the department car in which O’Brien had come up and were whirled up to the apartment house in which the old scientist dwelt.