“Sure I’ll do it!” he exclaimed. And then, with voices slightly lowered, the pair perfected their scheme.
A little later Connelly left the ship and walked rapidly away with a triumphant glint in his vulture-like eyes.
He found his confederate waiting for him in the same café where they had met the night before. Fleming jumped up from the table at which he had been sitting and came rapidly forward to meet him.
“Well?” he said eagerly.
“It’s all right,” responded Connelly. “It didn’t take much urging to turn the trick. I told you he’d be only too glad to oblige me.”
He went over the events of the morning rapidly, and Fleming exulted.
“So far, so good,” he gloated.
“But the hardest part is yet to come,” Connelly reminded him. “We’ve got the stage set for the play, and the next thing is to have the chief actor on hand when the curtain rings up.” And then the two talked the matter over in detail.
The enthusiasm at Braves Field that afternoon was at fever heat. The Boston rooters turned out in the biggest crowd of the Series so far. The last game their favorites had won filled them with confidence, and they were out to cheer their pets on to another victory.