knew whereof he spoke. He was familiar with
the public performance of every player of prominence for ten years. He
was at home, among equals, and easy in his mind.

An inconspicuous man who had gained admittance to the grounds, by
alleging his need to inspect a sign that was to be "done over," above
the fence beyond the outfield, passed closely to Bean and detected the
true situation with one sweep of his eagle eyes.

Fifteen minutes later this man was saying over a telephone to the
largest director who sat in Breed's office:

"Nothing doing last night but riding around in a big red car that was
waiting for him down in front. This morning at eight he starts north and
picks up a man just this side Fordham, from a trolley car that breaks
down. They turn around and go to the baseball park. He's setting there
now, gassing with a lot of the players, telling funny stories and the
like. He looks as if he didn't have a trouble on earth. My taxi-cab bill
is now, for last night and to-day, forty-six eighty-five. Shall I keep
on him?"

"No!" shouted the largest director. "Let him go to--let him alone and
come in."

"I forgot to say," added the inconspicuous man, "that the party he
picked up on the road and brought back here looks like he might be a
ball player himself."

"Come in," repeated the largest director; "on a street-car!"

"Looks to me," ventured the quiet director to the largest, "as if you
didn't bluff him quite to death last night."

"Aut'mobile!" said Breede. "Knew he had some one b'ind him."

"Let's get to business. No good putting it off now," said the quiet
director.

"Seven hundred shares! My God! This is monstrous!" said the little
eldest director, who had been making noises like a heavy locomotive.

Bean would have sat forever on that bench of the mighty,
world-forgetting, if not world-forgot. But the departure of several of
the men drew his attention to the supreme obligation of a guest.

"Well," he said, rising.

"Look in on us again some day," urged the Pitcher cordially.

"Thanks, I surely will," said Bean. "I like to forget business this way,
now and then. Good day!"

They waved him friendly adieus, and he was out where Paul waited.

"Forget business!" He had indeed for two hours forgotten business and
people. Not once had he thought of those waiting directors.

Well, they could do their worst, now. He was ripe to laugh at any fate.
What was prison? "The prisoner," he seemed to read, "