“Haven’t you had enough of Percy Randall?” I asked with a smile.
“In one way, yes, quite enough,” answered Ray, “but on the nine and under my control, I think he would make an excellent man.”
“I agree with you,” I said, after a moment’s consideration. “The man isn’t born who could rattle Percy Randall.”
“I suppose he will be glad enough to play,” observed Ray.
“Glad!” I answered. “He will never cease to thank us for another opportunity to get even with those Park men. He will play like a young tiger.”
“I think the best thing we can do then is to notify him at once,” said Ray. “I have some of the letter heads of the Baseball Association in my desk. I will write without delay and tell him to be on hand Monday noon for practice.”
Ray rose, and went to the roll top desk which stood near one of the windows. Taking his key from his pocket, he fitted one into the lock and tried to turn it. It caught in some way and would not move. Pressing on the sliding top, the desk, to his surprise, opened readily.
“Why, it is unlocked!” he exclaimed. “That is very curious. I am very sure that I locked it when I left two weeks ago, and nobody—why, confound it! What is all this?”
I got up hastily and joined him.
“What is the matter?” I asked.