The streets were so crowded, however, that Jim managed to escape detection, and in the subway boarded the same train as McCarney. The latter took a seat inside and Jim stuck to the platform, where he could keep an eye on his quarry without much likelihood of being seen himself.
At Ninety-sixth Street McCarney changed to an express, and Jim did likewise. They were whisked rapidly downtown. McCarney got off at Fourteenth Street, with Jim still on his trail.
From that point McCarney strode rapidly westward, and more than once Jim escaped detection by a miracle, as McCarney continually cast suspicious glances behind him. Eventually he reached the street where the gamblers’ house was located, and turned down it. Jim waited at the corner, as the street was deserted and McCarney would be almost certain to see him if he turned the corner.
From his post of vantage he saw McCarney ascend the steps of the house and ring the bell. The door was opened a few inches and the ball player held a short conversation with some unseen person inside, after which he descended the steps and walked rapidly toward the corner where Jim was observing his actions.
The latter had only time to dodge into a convenient hallway when McCarney passed the corner, apparently on his way back to the subway station. Jim gave him plenty of time to get well out of the way before he stepped into the street again. He had no definite plan in mind as yet, except to get inside the house someway and aid his friend to escape, provided he was there. But how to get in was the knotty problem.
He sauntered down the street and past the house, examining it from the corners of his eyes without seeming to take undue interest in it, as he did not know who might be on the lookout. He walked on to the next corner and stood there a few minutes, trying to think of a feasible plan. He then started back to have another look at the place, and had reached a point about opposite when a big automobile came sweeping around the corner and drew up at the curb only a few feet from where he was standing.
The car was filled with a crowd of rough looking men. Almost before he could realize what was happening, Jim was surrounded and attacked by these fellows. He fought desperately, but the odds were too great, and he was carried, still struggling, to the waiting automobile. Here he was pinned to the floor, a gag was stuffed into his mouth, and his hands and feet were securely tied.
It was hardly two minutes from the time that the car drew up before it was again on its way, and the dexterity of Jim’s captors spoke of much practice in similar episodes. The gamblers, finding that the removal of Joe from the team was not sufficient to cause its defeat, had not hesitated to go further and abduct the only other pitching ace the team possessed, thus making it practically impossible for it to win the pennant.
Meanwhile McRae, not knowing of this fresh disaster, was hiring detectives to find Joe and trying to plan a series of games in which he might employ Jim to the best advantage in the event that Joe was not found.
He called at Jim’s hotel that evening to talk over matters with him, and when told that Jim had not been there since leaving for the ball field, he became wildly excited. He hunted up Robson, and together they held a conference. In the end McRae called up the head of the most famous detective agency in the country and, after swearing him to secrecy, commissioned him to hunt for the missing ball players.