“Get into my street togs the first thing. Then I’m going to try and find that fellow—Hogan, did you say his name was?”
“One of ’em, yes. But what do you want of him?”
“I want him to tell when and where he took that stuff from the queer valise. And I want to know if he has any of it left, by any chance, though I don’t suppose he has. And, in the third place, I want to make him say that I didn’t take the stuff.”
Pop Dutton drew a long breath.
“You, Joe!” he exclaimed. “You accused?”
“Yes. It’s a queer story. But I’m beginning to see the end of it now! Come on!”
They hurried into the dressing rooms. Most of the other players had gone, for Joe and Pop had been delayed out on the diamond talking to Hogan. Charlie Hall was there, however, and he looked curiously at Joe.
“Anything the matter?” asked the young shortstop.
“Well, there may be—soon,” answered his friend. “I’ll see you later. Tell Gregory that I may be going out of town for a while, but I’ll sure be back in time for to-morrow’s game.”
“All right,” said Charlie, as he went in to take a shower bath.