“That’s what I’d like to know,” replied her brother. “That’s the aggravating thing about a telegram. It tells just enough to get you worked up and then you stew in your own juice while you’re waiting to find out the rest.”
“It looks as though this Tabbs had committed some crime,” suggested Mr. Matson. “Else why should Reggie ask to have him held?”
“That doesn’t prove very much,” laughed Joe. “Reggie sometimes takes queer notions. There was a time once when he had half a mind to have me held.”
The family all laughed as they recalled the episode alluded to, but at the time it had proved no laughing matter.
It had occurred at the time that Joe had been on his way to the training camp at Montville in the year that our hero had joined the Central League. He had been sitting next to the valise owned by a dudish young man dressed in the height of fashion and possessed of what he fondly thought was a pronounced English accent. The young man had left the valise while he went to send a telegram and when he returned he found the valise opened and some valuable jewelry missing.
In a very offensive way he had practically accused Joe of stealing the property, and it was only the self-control of the latter that prevented a serious row between the two. The matter had been patched up, and some time later the jewelry had been recovered through a little bit of smart detective work on Joe’s part.
Montville, the training grounds of the team, was located not far from where Reggie Varley, the foppish young man in question, lived. One day Joe had been fortunate enough to stop a runaway horse and save its driver, a beautiful girl, from danger and probable death. She turned out to be Mabel Varley, Reggie’s sister. Joe decided very promptly that however he felt toward the brother, he ought to feel very differently toward the sister, a resolution that was helped very much by a pair of charming brown eyes, a wonderful complexion and sundry other advantages no less pleasing. Miss Mabel, on her part, knew a handsome, athletic young man when she saw one, and the romantic circumstances of their meeting helped to increase the impression he had made on her. Since then, they had met frequently and—Oh, well, it is sufficient to say that Joe, healthy as he looked, was threatened with palpitation of the heart whenever he heard Mabel’s name, and it had become one of Clara’s favorite amusements to start the color rioting over her brother’s neck and face whenever the demon of mischief gave her the opportunity.
Reggie himself had turned out to be not such a bad fellow, despite his little foolish peculiarities. He had apologized handsomely to Joe and the two were now warm friends.
“Have him held,” chuckled Joe, as he reread the telegram. “Well, that’s an easy job. The jail authorities have him now and I won’t have to hold him.”