of old Jim Lawrence, of Oregon, one of the richest men
out there. Lawrence is his guardian. They had some sort of a run-in
and the boy left."

"How do you know these things?" demanded the gambler.

"The boy and my niece were sweethearts at home. I coaxed her to tell
me when I discovered she knew him. They were engaged once, I
understand, but it was broken off."

"Then," said Edwards determinedly, "get your niece on the job. If
anyone can handle that fellow a woman can."

"Oh, I say," protested Baldwin, with a show of indignation, "I can't
ask her to get into anything like this."

"She probably was willing enough to get into it until she thought the
boy didn't have any money," replied Edwards coldly. "I don't want the
girl to do anything wrong. Just get her to make up with this McCarthy,
or whatever his name is, and get him away from this ball team for a
week. Baldwin, this is getting to be a serious matter with me, and
with you, too, if you want to hold your political power."

"All right, all right," said Baldwin hastily. "Maybe I can persuade
the girl to help us out. I'll try."

"You'd better succeed--if you want to send your man to the Senate,"
said Edwards threateningly.

"I'll go right away," assented the politician.

Baldwin arose leisurely, went down to his limousine that was waiting
and ordered the man to drive home, although it was his custom to remain
downtown until late. At home he sent at once for his niece, and, after
a brief talk, during which he was careful to hint that McCarthy had
made overtures toward reconciliation with his uncle, the girl went to
the telephone.

McCarthy, summoned to the telephone, talked for a few moments and, as
the poker game broke up, he called Swanson aside and said:

"You'll have to go alone to-night. I've got to make a call."

"Who is she?" asked Swanson insinuatingly.

"Barney Baldwin's niece--and at his house."

"Run on, Kohinoor," said the big shortstop. "I'll take Kennedy with me
and if I'm not mistaken you'll find out more than I will."

CHAPTER XVI

_McCarthy Makes a Call_

It was a little past seven o'clock, when McCarthy, arrayed in what
Swanson referred to as his "joy rags," which had been rescued from
impound in an express office after his first renewal of prosperity,
came out of the hotel. He was undecided, wavering as to whether or not
it was wise for him to keep the appointment to call on Helen Baldwin.

They had met duri