It ended as Joe had supposed it would. The scoundrels would never dare to take the chance of the cause of the quarrel being revealed. It would mean financial damage and social ostracism. No man could live in New York after it had become known that he had tried to bribe Baseball Joe to destroy the Giants’ chance for the pennant.
“My friend has been the victim of a felonious assault,” Harrish said stiffly, “but we do not care to make a charge. You may consider the incident ended.”
“Glory be!” muttered Lonergan under his breath. It would have been a sore trial to him to have to arrest the man whom he admired above all others.
The attendant brought their hats and canes to the crestfallen rascals and they left the room with much less dignity than they had entered it.
Joe left a moment later, pausing for a moment to shake hands with Lonergan.
“Keep mum about this, old man,” he counseled. “There’s been nothing done that you or any other decent man wouldn’t have done in my place, but I don’t want anything to get in the papers.”
“Trust me, Mr. Matson,” said Lonergan. “Niver a word will any one git out of me. An’ I’m glad,” he added, with a broad grin, “that it was some other feller than mesilf that got the crack from that home-run arm of yours. It must have been a lallapaloozer.”
Jim was reading a book when Joe strode in, and he sensed at once that something had happened.
“Hello! What’s come o’er the spirit of your dream? Don’t look so spick and span as when you went out. Anything happened?”
“Met a couple of crooks and beat one of them up,” answered Joe, as he threw off his coat and donned a lounging jacket.