. With a sigh of relief he hung up
his receiver and grinned at Joe.

"He's a baseball fan," was all the explanation he offered.

An anxious wait ensued, then Cramer telephones:

"McCarthy just got out, mayor's orders. Pretty well bunged up, but
says he can play. He's gone with some girl in an auto. She was
waiting for him."

Feehan glanced at his watch. It was 6.23.

"Twelve minutes for two and a half miles," he muttered. "They'll just
make it."

And with a sigh he picked up his scattered sheets and muttered:

"Let's see, what did this fellow Houseman hit last season?"

CHAPTER XXX

_A Race to Save the Day_

Kohinoor McCarthy, emerging from his cell into the fetid atmosphere of
the receiving room of the police station, was met by Cramer, who broke
from the group of reporters, lawyers and police officials stirred to
activity at that early hour by the frantic efforts of Technicalities
Feehan. His head was rudely bandaged and his discolored face was
swollen and cut.

There was no time for questionings.

"Hurry, McCarthy," said Cramer. "There is an automobile outside
waiting to take you to the station. You have about a quarter of an
hour to catch the train."

McCarthy, with a word of thanks, hastened through the station, leaped
down the steps with an agility that proved his injuries did not affect
his speed, and sprang to the car.

The morning sun was just commencing to reach down into the cavern of
the street into which the car leaped, and it shone directly in their
eyes. The car lurched around a corner and swung into the avenue for
the race to the station. At that instant the girl's veil flapped back,
revealing her face.

"Betty!" exclaimed McCarthy. "You"----

"You didn't know me?" she asked as she steadied the car and increased
its pace over the smooth asphalt.

"Why are you here? What are you doing?" he asked in astonishment.

"I had to come," she replied swiftly. "There was no one else. We must
catch the train. Don't talk, please."

He leaned back wearily and watched the street as it seemed to flow past
them.

"How much time have we?" he asked above the roaring of the wind.

"The train leaves at 6.35," she called back, without lifting her eyes.
"Watch for clocks."

She had increased the speed gradually and the light car jumped as it
struck a cross-town street-car track. Suddenly the car jolted, slid to
a quick stop and with an exclamation of despair the girl strove