d Swanson grudgingly. "He has been meeting that
crook for ten days now, and I want to find out what they're up to."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" demanded Kennedy. "I'd kick his head
off"----

"We hadn't the goods on him," explained Swanson. "That's what I want
you for. If we can prove he's up to some crooked work"----

The big Swede menacingly folded his ponderous paw into a fist and
flexed his biceps.

"Do you think he's trying to throw games? He's been pitching funny
ball lately," asked Kennedy. "I've had to fight him in every game to
get him to pitch fast."

"What I think and what I can prove are different things," growled the
shortstop. "I've got my suspicions. Now we're after proof. Come on.
If he was to meet anyone there the one he was to meet is in ahead of
him."

The players walked to the corner, crossed the street and went into the
saloon without an effort at concealment. The place appeared empty,
save for a bartender who was washing glasses behind the bar, and a
heavy, coarse-featured man lounging near the end of the bar with a
half-consumed high ball before him.

"Gimme a beer," ordered Swanson, throwing a coin onto the bar; "what
you have, Ben?"

"Make it two," replied Kennedy.

There was no sign of Williams, and only a narrow doorway, leading
somewhere toward the rear, gave a clue as to his probable egress from
the barroom.

The bartender, having rung up the amount of the sale on the cash
register, exchanged a few words in a low tone with the man at the end.
Then he strolled back and stood near where Swanson and Kennedy were
wasting time over their drinks.

"We were expecting to meet a friend here to-night," remarked Swanson,
deciding to take a new tack with the bartender. "Rather tall, slender
young fellow. Has anyone been in?"

"Young fellow came in a while ago something like that," replied the
bartender. "Seemed to be expecting someone, but turned around and went
out. Maybe that was him."

They knew he was lying, and Swanson, without changing expression, said:

"Must have thought he was in the wrong place, or too early. Maybe
he'll come back. We'll stick around awhile."

Had they known what was transpiring in the private room just beyond the
doorway their interest would have been greater. The big man who had
stood at the end of the bar had gone at the first opportunity and was
reporting to Easy Ed Edwards, who grew venomous with hate, while
Williams sat shaking