"I've got to get him," said Feehan. "We can't fall down now after
we've located McCarthy."

There was no reply to the call for the mayor's telephone number, and
while waiting, Feehan slipped to another telephone and called the hotel
at which the ball players lived, asking for the Clancy apartments.
Betty Tabor answered the summons.

"We've found him," said Feehan. "He's alive and well."

"Where is he?" asked the girl breathlessly.

"He's in a cell at the North Ninetieth Street Police Station--about
half a mile from your hotel. I want you to do something."

"What is it?" she asked. "Hurry--I haven't undressed. Is there
anything I can do?"

"Yes," he said. "He's locked up and we're tearing the town to pieces
trying to get him out of the station. It may be an hour--and he must
catch that train. Can you arrange at your hotel to have a fast taxi to
take him to the railroad station when he gets out, if there is a chance
to catch the train?"

"Wait--yes, yes," she said eagerly. "The manager here has a fast
machine that he has been letting me use. I'll get it. The garage is
only a few doors."

"You'll take him yourself?" he said in surprise.

"Yes," she said. "I must hurry."

Again and again Feehan urged the telephone girl to try to get a reply
to the call for the mayor. Beads of sweat stood upon his face, as he
begged her to try again and summoned the manager to his assistance. He
glanced at his watch. It was eight minutes to six o'clock.

"I must get him," he told the telephone girl for the dozenth time.

"Sorry--no one will answer," she said wearily. "I've tried--wait a
minute, there's someone now."

"Hello," said a hearty voice.

"Your Honor"--Feehan's voice was pregnant with pleading--"this is
Feehan, the baseball writer."

"Hello, Feehan," came the quick response. "Why aren't you with the
team, or did you just get in to honor me with this early call?"

"Your Honor," pleaded Feehan, recalling suddenly that the mayor was an
ardent baseball "fan." "I've been searching for McCarthy. He's in the
North Ninetieth Street Station, held without being booked. I've been
trying for hours to get him out so he can join the team."

"What charge?" demanded the mayor sharply.

"No charge. He is being held to keep him from playing. If he doesn't
catch this morning's train the pennant is lost."

"Here's where I make a pinch hit, then," said the mayor sharply.

Feehan heard the receiver bang down