esh.

"You wanted to see me?" inquired McCarthy, thrown a little off his easy
bearing.

"Yes--where were you last night?"

"I--in my room"--he suddenly remembered the excursion with Swanson. "I
was out for a while," he concluded lamely.

"Were you in the cafe of the Metropolis Hotel late?"

"Yes," confessed McCarthy, bridling at the tone employed by the
manager. "I was in there."

"Drinking?"

"Yes--lemonade."

"Nothing stronger?"

"No."

"No wine?"

"No--I'm not in the wine class."

"Who were you with?"

"You're the manager," said McCarthy quietly, although he was rebellious
inwardly. "You may ask me anything you want to about myself or my
actions--but you surely don't expect me to tell on anyone else?"

"I don't want you to tell on any ball player--but who were you with?"

"I'm not at liberty to tell."

"You needn't tell me--I know," said the manager angrily. "You got up
out of bed to go there to meet Easy Ed Edwards--and you were with him
while three of you drank four quarts of wine."

For an instant McCarthy clenched his hands until the nails bit into the
palms, and a flood of angry color flashed into his face. With an
effort he controlled himself.

"You've got everything backwards," he said at last, gazing straight at
the angry manager. "I can't explain just now--but you'll find out some
day--and apologize."

He turned without another word and left the room. Clancy, who had
expected angry denials, threats, perhaps a personal encounter, sat
gazing at the closed door, and then to himself he said:

"It looks bad, but hanged if I don't believe him. No fellow could lie
and look like that."

CHAPTER XII

_McCarthy Defies Barney Baldwin_

"Pardridge, playing third base in place of McCarthy, Holleran in left.
Morton and Kennedy, battery for the Bears."

This announcement, bawled by a battery of megaphone men in front of the
crowded stands that afternoon was the first intimation that McCarthy
had of the contemplated action of Manager Clancy in taking him out of
the game. He sprang from the end of the bench, where he was tying his
shoes, toward the manager, an angry exclamation on his lips, and his
blue eyes flashing as they narrowed to the battle slit. Swanson, who
was sitting next him, fondling a bat, seized McCarthy with his
tremendous grip and jerked him back to his seat.

"Steady, boy, steady," the big Swede cautioned. "Take your medicine.
Show your gameness."

"I'm