CHAPTER XIX
WEAVING THE WEB
The four at the table put their heads together, and Fleming lowered hisvoice so that he might not be overheard by those in the adjacent chairs.
"Of course, I don't know whether we can make the thing work," commencedFleming a little diffidently, "but it won't do any harm to figure it outand see what there is in it."
"Sure thing," said Connelly, encouragingly.
"As you say, it won't do to injure Matson physically," Fleming went on."Though nothing would suit me better," he added with sudden savageness,as the stinging recollection of that afternoon's events came back to him.
"I see that he isn't exactly popular with you," grinned Connelly. Hereflected that this man might be a valuable aid to him, if he nourisheda personal grudge.
But it was not in Fleming's mind to betray himself, and he pulled upshort.
"As I was saying," he continued, without replying to Connelly'ssuggestion, "the public wouldn't stand for a minute for any rough workwith Matson. But we can injure him in other ways."
"Just how?" asked Connelly.
"Well," asked Fleming in turn, "what do you think is the most importantthing in the world to him just now?"
"The World Series," replied Connelly, promptly.
"Exactly," assented Fleming. "It means more to him just now thananything else on earth. It means money and reputation and a big futureif he wins. Now if we could knock him out of winning, we could hit himin his pride, his prestige and his pocketbook all at the same time, andhit him hard."
"No doubt of that," admitted Connelly, "but I don't see just yet whatyou're driving at."
"What I'm driving at is this," explained Fleming. "We've got, in someway, to keep Matson from playing. You know as well as I do that he isthe mainstay of the Giant team. That's especially the case since Hughsonwas hurt. Matson's the only reliable pitcher they have left. Markwith isas wild as a hawk and may go up in the air at any time. Barclay has thestuff, but he's green and inexperienced.
"The Red Sox now have won two games to the Giants' one. The New Yorksmust take three more to win the Series. They're counting on Matson topull out two of them at least, perhaps all three. I tell you he's theking pin in the Giant machine just now, and without him the whole teamwould go to pieces."
"I see your point all right," said Connelly, "but with the roughstuff barred I don't exactly see how we are going to keep Matson fromplaying." He pondered the problem for a moment with knitted brows. Thensuddenly an idea came to him, and he brought his fist down on the tablewith a resounding thump. "Great Scott!" he cried. "I believe I've gotthe very thing!"
"Let's have it," demanded Fleming, eagerly.
"There's a pal of mine in this burg," explained Connelly, "that's havingall sorts of trouble with a nephew of his that's going to the dogs asfast as he can. The boy has put over one or two phony checks alreadythat my friend has had to settle for to keep the kid out of jail.
"My pal has the idea that if the boy could be shipped out of the countryfor a long voyage it would get him away from the gang he's running withand might put him in the way of keeping straight. He was talking to meabout it only yesterday and I promised to help him carry it through.
"You see, I happen to know an old sea captain who's loading up now ata Boston wharf for a trip to South America. He's a tough old nut, andhe'll do almost anything for me, especially if a little money is slippedto him to sweeten the job. I was going to propose to him to have thiskid I'm telling you about bundled on board and carried away with him.But that matter can wait. Now suppose we're able to get Matson on boardin place of the other fellow."
"Great!" cried Fleming excitedly.
"It's too hot and crowded in here," declared Connelly, rising. "Let'sget out somewhere and fix up the details."
He dismissed his henchmen, and he and Fleming strolled down the streettill they came to the Common. They chose a seat in a remote part, andbegan to figure out how they could carry their plan to success.
"It's too bad that it's too late to put the thing through to-night,"regretted Connelly. "I'd like to put him on the blink for to-morrow'sgame."
"We can't do that of course," replied Fleming. "But even if he winsto-morrow's game, that will only even up the Series. There'll have to beat least two more games played and maybe three. We'll get him then."
"I'll go down and see the captain the first thing in the morning," saidConnelly. "I'm sure he'll fall in with it all right. Then the only thingthat remains to be done is to get Matson within his reach withoutrousing suspicion."
"But that's a mighty big thing," returned Fleming doubtfully.
"What time does their train for New York leave to-morrow night?" askedConnelly.
"Somewhere between eleven and twelve, I believe," answered Fleming.
"That'll give us all the time we want," declared Connelly confidently."Now listen to me."
"Not quite so loud," admonished Fleming, looking around him nervously.
The conspirators lowered their voices and talked earnestly. It wasnearly midnight when they parted.
The next morning dawned brightly and there was every promise of aglorious day.
"How are you feeling, Joe?" asked Jim, as the chums were getting readyto go down to breakfast.
"Fine and dandy and full of pitching," replied Joe blithely.
"That sounds good," rejoiced Jim. "Didn't sprain your arm on Flemingyesterday?" he inquired with a grin.
"Not so that you could notice it," laughed Joe. "In fact it was just theexercise I needed. It made up for having no other practice, kept me fromgoing stale, as it were."
"It took real friendship to stay around that curve when I was fairlyaching to see you do that fellow up," declared Jim.
"I'll do as much for you some time," Joe consoled him.
They had barely finished their meal when word was brought to Joe thatthere was somebody waiting in the lobby to see him.
He went out promptly and was surprised and pleased to find Mr. Anderson,the old G. A. R. man who had been knocked down by the automobile on theLong Island road.
They shook hands heartily.
"I'm mighty glad to see you!" exclaimed Joe. "I didn't expect you'd beable to get back to Boston so soon. Those Islip doctors must have beenright on the job."
"They fixed me up fine," agreed Louis Anderson. "Everybody's been mightygood and kind to me since I was hurt. You especially, Mr. Matson. I wantto thank you for the money you left for me with the doctors, and whichthey handed to me when I was coming away."
"Oh, that's all right," said Joe, "and half of that was from Mr.Barclay, the young man who was with me. Here he comes now," he added, asJim sauntered out of the dining room and joined them.
He greeted the old man heartily, who thanked him also for his kindness.Jim waved it away as a trifle.
"Found out anything yet as to who those fellows were that ran you down?"he inquired.
"Not a thing," said the old man sadly. "I only wish I could. I'd makethem pay for what they did to me."
"And we'd be witnesses for you," declared Joe warmly. "It was one of themost brutal things I ever saw."
"They ought to be made to pay up handsomely," added Jim, "and they'd bemighty lucky to get off with that."
"I'm afraid there isn't much chance of ever finding them," the oldman said. "But it wasn't that I came to see you especially about thismorning, Mr. Matson. I heard something last night that I think you oughtto know."
"Is that so?" asked Joe pleasantly. "What is it?"
"I was on the Common last night," Anderson replied. "It was so close andhot that I couldn't sleep, and I thought it might do me good to get theair. I sat down at the foot of a big tree and I guess I must have goneto sleep. I was waked up by hearing voices and found that two men weresitting on a bench the other side of the tree.
"I didn't pay much attention till I heard one of them mention your name.Even then I thought they were talking about baseball. But then I heardone of them say mean thi
ngs about you. I perked up then and I heardenough to know that they were planning to harm you in some way."
Both ball players were listening now with the utmost attention.
"Did you hear them call each other by name?" asked Joe.
"One of them spoke to the other as Mr. Fleming----"
"Fleming!" interrupted Jim, as he shot a quick glance at Joe.
Baseball Joe in the World Series; or, Pitching for the Championship Page 19