"That was a great play you tried to make, Kohinoor," remarked Manager Clancy just before the 'bus reached the hotel. "I like to see a player try to get the runners nearest home. If you had forced that fellow at second, as you tried to do when Adonis cut into the play, the next hit never would have got through the infield, and the chances are we'd have had a double play and won the game." These were the first words of praise Manager Clancy ever had said to him, and he felt better. The players had been invited to attend a performance at a theater that evening. After dinner they were grouped around the lobby of the hotel, when Edwards strolled through, going toward the desk. Manager Clancy glanced at him in surprise and a worried look came over his face. "I wonder what that crook is doing out here?" he remarked to a group of players. "You fellows keep away from him. It's worth a player's reputation for honesty to be seen with him." As Edwards turned from the desk he glanced quickly at Williams, caught his eye and beckoned slightly with his head. Williams suddenly pleaded that he was too weary to attend the performance and remained in the hotel, declaring his intention of retiring early. As soon as Manager Clancy, escorting the women of the party, left the hotel, Williams ascended to Edwards' room. "See here, Ed," he said, "you're putting me in a dickens of a hole. Clancy is sore on you. He said he would fine any player who talked to you. I was afraid he'd see you tip me to come up. If he gets on I'll lose a bunch of salary. I had to sneak to come up here." "I wanted to talk to you," replied the gambler. "I told you last night that the Panthers must win this pennant. I stand to lose close to $80,000 if they don't. Of course they may beat you, but I want to make it a sure thing and clean up on it." "You ought to be feeling better about it to-day," said the pitcher, in an aggrieved tone. "We lost to a dub club with me pitching. What more do you want?" "It wasn't your fault that you lost," retorted the gambler coldly. "You tried hard to win it and you might have won if you had kept away from that bunted ball." "I'd have thrown him out at first easily if that four-flush third baseman hadn't bumped me," snapped Williams, his pride hurt. "Sure you would," sneered the gambler. "You'd have thrown me out of about $160,000 just to have a better average. You had a chance to lose that game without any trouble and you're sore because you did lose it." "Why shouldn't I be?" demanded Williams. "If we win my part of the world's series money will be close to $4,000--enough to settle what I owe you and pay my bills."