After his first outburst of rage Clancy was strangely quiet, speaking in low tones, vibrating with repressed feeling. From the moment Barney Baldwin had revealed to him his ownership of the Bears, and had issued his positive orders that Williams should pitch the game, Clancy had been fighting within himself, studying to find some plan of vengeance that would strike all the plotters. Never for an instant had he considered the thought of permitting the championship to be surrendered by the orders of the owner. "Williams," he said, "you're a never-to-be-sufficiently-spit-upon cur. You're the lowest, yellowest dog in the world. I've known for two weeks that you have been trying to lose the pennant for us." "Shut up!" he snapped, lifting his voice sharply as the pitcher attempted to speak. "I know what you've done and what you plan to do. I know who is back of you"---- The pitcher cowered under the scathing denunciation and started as if to rise. "Who--who's been telling you this stuff?" he quavered, terror-stricken. "You--you rat." Clancy's scorn stung like a lash and Williams quivered. "I know everything. I've waited and watched when you thought you were putting something over. I've waited for a chance to get you"---- He paused a moment, while Williams, palsied with terror, sat unable to answer. "And I've got you, Williams!" He shot the sentence at the pitcher, who half started from his seat, lifting his hands as if to protect himself from attack. "I'm not going to choke you to death, I wouldn't soil my hands on you," said the manager with a scornful laugh. "What are you going to do, Bill?" William's voice quivered. "I'm going to make you pitch to-day's game," said the manager quietly. A gasp of amazement and relief came from Williams. "You're going to pitch to-day's game, Williams," the manager repeated. "And you're going to win it. You're going to win it, or if you don't win I'll tell the crowd you were bribed, and I'll let the crowd handle you. They'll tear you to pieces, Williams, and kick the pieces around the diamond--and I'll help them do it." "You won't do anything to me if I win?" pleaded the pitcher. "No; I won't do a thing to you," said Clancy, and he spat as if to relieve himself of a bad taste, as he turned and went out, locking the door. "Good God, look at Clancy," whispered Swanson in awed tones as the manager stepped out of the elevator a minute or two later. "He's in his blackest form. I honestly pity Williams." "Swanson," said Clancy sharply. "What is it, Boss?" asked Swanson anxiously. "Nothing," snapped Clancy, "I want you to do something." "All right." "Williams is locked in my room. You watch the door. If he breaks out kill him." He turned and stalked away like a man in a trance, leaving the big shortstop staring after him. CHAPTER XXIX _Found_