en which hotel he is to
meet his friend at. Thank you," he said after a moment's wait.

"Hurry. He's going to the Metropolis Hotel," he ordered. "We must
catch up with him."

They dressed with the speed of men accustomed to changing clothing four
or five times a day, and before Williams had been five minutes on his
way they were racing for the elevator. Swanson, hastily leaping into a
waiting taxicab, ordered the driver to make all possible speed to the
corner nearest the Metropolis Hotel.

"What is up?" asked McCarthy, as they settled back in the cushions of
the taxi as it lurched over the pavement.

"There is something funny going on in this ball club," said Swanson.
"And I am going to find out what it is. Whatever it is, Williams is
mixed up in it. I want to find out why he is meeting Edwards to-night
and what is up."

"What do you think?" asked McCarthy.

"I haven't got it figured out," said Swanson, scratching his head.
"There has been something wrong for two weeks. Ever since you joined
the club Williams hasn't been natural. He acts mysterious off the
field and worse than that on it. He has only won one of his last three
games, and ought to have lost them all the way he pitched."

The taxi jerked to a stop at the corner opposite the hotel, and
Swanson, after reconnoitering carefully, led the way across the street
and into the cafe.

"I used to know this place like a book when I was hitting the booze,"
he said. "They'll be in here--or I don't know Williams. Let's take
the corner booth so we can see who comes in and goes out."

Five minutes later two men came through the swinging doors from the
hotel lobby. Swanson could see them, but McCarthy was out of the range
of vision. Swanson drew back deeper into the booth.

"Who is it?" inquired McCarthy in a whisper.

"Sh--h! It's Williams and Edwards. They're going into the booth next
to us. Put your ear close to the partition. I'd give a farm to hear
them."

The players sipped their soft drinks, while in turn they strove to hear
what was passing in the next booth. Occasionally they could
distinguish a voice, but the words were unintelligible. Ten minutes of
vain listening ensued. Then a heavy man in evening clothes hurried
into the cafe, and after a hasty glance into the booths entered the one
in which Edwards and Williams were waiting.

"I wonder who that fat man is?" whispered Swanson.

"It's a lucky thing he didn't recognize me,"