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, "betrayed no consciousness of the enormity of his crime, and had, indeed, spent the morning at the Polo Grounds, chatting with various members of the Giants, with which team he is a great favourite." Let them bring their gyves. Let the barred door clang shut! "Office!" he said to Paul. There was no doubt in Paul's mind as to the quality of his patron. He had at once recognized the Greatest Pitcher. He ceased to speculate as to whether this assured young man owned the high office-building. That was now of minor consequence. On the way downtown he tried to remember what day it was. He thought it was Friday, but again it seemed to be Monday. He stopped the car and bought an afternoon paper to find out. At the entrance to the big office-building he debated a moment. "Wait!" he directed Paul.