He walked over to the valise, unlocked it, took out a package and looked it over.
“These must be the ones,” he continued. “They’ve been in my way for some time and I’ve thought more than once of throwing them away. I was trying to remember how I got hold of them.”
With trembling fingers Reggie thumbed the papers. Then he gave an exclamation of delight.
“Every one of them here!” he cried. “Joe, I can never thank you enough for getting them back for me.”
“Well, now,” said Tabbs, blandly, “let’s go and have that game of tag.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to let that go just now,” said Joe, rising to go. “But this friend of mine will take my place,” pointing to Reardon.
Tabbs assented cheerfully and waved a gay farewell to Joe and Reggie, as they went downstairs to the taxi, leaving him in Reardon’s custody.
“Poor old fellow!” sighed Joe, as he looked for the last time on the wreck of what had been a splendid man.
Reggie was eager to share his rejoicing with Mabel and Joe would have gone with him if he could. But so much time had been consumed that the young pitcher had no more than time to get a light lunch and hurry off to the Polo Grounds.