When Locke reached Fernandon, he found, as he expected, a furious message from Weegman awaiting him. In it he was savagely reprimanded, and warned under no circumstances to make any further deals without consulting Collier’s private secretary. He was also commanded to report at the office of the Blue Stockings baseball club without unnecessary delay.

Lefty merely smiled over this, but he did not smile over a long telegram from Franklin Parlmee, stating that he had not seen Virginia Collier nor heard anything further from her. Parlmee averred that he could not believe Virginia was in New York; he expressed the conviction that Locke had not seen her in the limousine with Bailey Weegman, but had been deceived by a resemblance. But if she were not in New York, where was she? And why had he received no word from her?

Janet watched Lefty frowning and biting his lip over Parlmee’s message. Her own face showed the anxiety she felt.

“What do you think?” she asked. “It doesn’t seem possible that Virginia could have been with that man, as you thought. You must have been mistaken.”

He shook his head. “I’m positive, Janet. I would be willing to wager anything that I made no mistake.”

“Then what does it mean? I can’t imagine Virginia being in New York without letting Frank know.”

“It’s got me guessing,” Locke admitted. “There’s a snarl that needs to be untangled.”

She grabbed his arm. “You don’t suppose–”

“What?” he asked, as she hesitated.

“You don’t suppose anything terrible could have happened to Virginia? Perhaps that villain has carried her off–shut her up somewhere! Perhaps she is helpless in his power this minute. He may be trying to force her into marrying him.”

Lefty laughed. “That sounds too much like a dime novel, my dear. Scoundrel though he is, Weegman would scarcely have the nerve to try anything like that with the daughter of Charles Collier. That’s not the answer.”

“But something’s wrong,” insisted Janet.

“No doubt about that,” her husband replied. “A lot of things seem to be wrong. Somebody is dealing the cards under the table.”

“I know,” said Janet, “that Virginia didn’t care for Mr. Weegman, and the more her father sought to influence her the less she thought of him. She was proud of Franklin because he had proved his business ability, and she thought Mr. Collier would give in soon. But I can’t understand why she stopped writing to me. She hasn’t written since arriving on this side.”

“We’re not getting anywhere by speculating like this,” said Lefty. “Can you be ready to go North with me to-morrow?”

“You are going back so soon?”

“Just as soon as we can start. I’m thinking I ought to have remained there. I only came South at all in order to make sure of Mysterious Jones, and now it looks as though I wasted both time and money by doing so. Perhaps I would have been better off if Skullen had succeeded in getting Jones away from me.”

“But the cottage–our lease runs another full month.”

“It can’t be helped. We’ll have to pay the rental and give it up.”

“And your arm–you thought another month down here might give you time to work it back into condition.”“I’ve got plenty to worry about besides my arm. I’ve been told plainly that I’ve been picked to be the goat by a set of scoundrels who are trying to put over a dirty piece of work, and, if I fool them, I’ll have to do it with my head, not my arm. I’m going to stake everything on my ability to put the kibosh on their crooked game, and to stand any chance of succeeding I must be on the field of battle. So we must leave Fernandon to-morrow, my dear.”

To accomplish this necessitated no small amount of hustling, but Janet did her part. With the assistance of her maid and a colored man, the work was speedily done. There were tears in Janet’s eyes when she looked back at the deserted little cottage, as they drove away in a carriage to catch the train.

“It has been pleasant here,” she said. “I’ll never forget it. We were so quiet and so happy. Now, somehow, I have a feeling that there’s nothing but trouble ahead of us. You’ve taken a big contract, Phil.”

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

She looked up at him and smiled proudly. “Not a bit. You are not the sort of man who fails. I know you’ll win out.”

His cheeks glowed and a light leaped into his eyes. “After hearing you say that, I couldn’t fail, Janet, dear,” he said quietly but earnestly. “It’s going to be some fight, but let it come–I’m ready.”

The journey northward was uneventful. Locke had wired both Kennedy and Parlmee when he would arrive in New York, asking them to meet him at the Great Eastern. He did not stop off at the home town of the Blue Stockings, choosing to disregard for the present Weegman’s imperative order for him to report at once at the office of the club. By mail he had formally notified the secretary of the club of the trade with Frazer and the purchase of Mysterious Jones, directing that checks be sent immediately to the manager of the Wolves and to Cap’n Wiley. He had done this as a matter of formality, but he felt sure that Weegman would interfere and hold up the payments, even though they could, sooner or later, be legally enforced. Delay matters as he might, the rascal could not bring about the repudiation of business deals entered into by the properly authorized manager of the team. Locke hoped to have the situation well in hand before he should find it necessary to beard the lion in all his fury. The showdown must come before long, but ere that time the southpaw hoped to fill his hand on the draw.

When he had sent out the players’ contracts from Indianapolis he had instructed the men, after signing, to mail them directly to him in New York. He had made this request emphatic, warning each man not to return his signed contract to the office of the Blue Stockings. He had Kennedy to thank for suggesting this procedure.

“If the contracts go back to the club office,” old Jack had said, “Weegman may get hold of them and hold out on you. That would leave you in the dark; you wouldn’t know who had signed up and who hadn’t, and so you couldn’t tell where you stood. It would keep you muddled so you wouldn’t know what holes were left to be plugged. If you undertook to find out how the land lay by wiring inquiries to the players, you’d make them uneasy, and set them wondering what was doing. Some of them might even try belated dickering with the Feds, and, while you could hold them by law, it would complicate things still more. If the newspapers got wise and printed things, the stock of the club would slump still more, which would help the dirty bunch that’s trying to knock the bottom out of it.”

Beyond question, Kennedy was foxy and farseeing, and Locke looked forward expectantly to another heart-to-heart talk with the old man at the Great Eastern.

A big bundle of mail was delivered to Lefty after he registered at the hotel. Immediately on reaching his rooms he made haste to open the letters.

“Look, Janet!” he cried exultantly, after he had torn open envelope after envelope. “Here are the contracts–Grant, Welsh, Hyland, Savage, Dillon, Reilley, and Lumley all have signed, as well as the youngsters who didn’t attract special attention from the Feds. Not a man lost that the outlaws hadn’t gobbled up before Weegman so kindly forced the management upon me. We’ve got the makings of a real team left. Some of the deadwood has been cleared away, that’s all.”

With scarcely an exception, the players had sent, along with their contracts, brief, friendly letters congratulating Locke and expressing confidence in his ability to manage the Blue Stockings successfully. He had won the regard of them all; in some cases that regard fell little short of genuine affection. With him as their leader they would fight with fresh spirit and loyalty.

“It’s fine, Lefty!” exclaimed Janet, as she read some of those cheery letters. “There was a time when I could not have believed professional ball players were such a fine lot of men.”

“I might have had some doubts myself before I was associated with them,” he admitted; “but experience has taught me that they measure up in manhood as well as any other class. Of course, black sheep may be found in every business.”

As he spoke, he hurriedly opened a letter that had just attracted his attention among those remaining. He read it aloud:

My Dear Hazelton: I am writing in haste before sailing for Liverpool on the Northumberland. As I thought, you were wrong about having seen Virginia in New York. She is in London, and in trouble. I’ve had a cablegram from her which, however, explains very little. She needs me, and I am going to her at once. If you should wish to communicate with me, my address will be the Cecil. As I know that both you and Mrs. Hazelton feel some anxiety about Virginia, I shall let you hear from me as soon as I have any news.

Wishing you the success and good fortune you deserve as a baseball manager, I remain, sincerely yours, Franklin Parlmee.