As he walked back to where the newspaper man sat, he saw Bert Elgin crossing the lobby toward the door. For an instant he was moved to brace the fellow then and there and accuse him of playing that dirty trick the night before. Almost as quickly, however, he realized how futile that would be. Though Elgin was the only man with a motive strong enough to make him suspected, Lefty had no shred of proof against him. “Let him go,” the latter muttered frowningly. “I haven’t got anything on him――yet. I’ll be hanged if I don’t think he was at the bottom of it, though, and if I don’t dig up the truth somehow, I _am_ a bonehead.” CHAPTER XIV BERT ELGIN’S LUCK Bert Elgin was decidedly a ladies’ man. A pretty face in any of the front-rows of the grandstand never escaped his attention, and, no matter in what part of the country his team was playing, he seemed to have an almost uncanny faculty of scraping an acquaintance with the best-looking girl in town. His teammates growled and grumbled enviously, making sarcastic references to luck and bluff and working the rah-rah racket to perfection, but Elgin remained undisturbed by their comments. There was no questioning the fact that he could be very charming when he chose to exert himself. He had a ready tongue, the knack of subtle flattery, and knew how to utilize the glamour which most girls throw about a prominent athlete who has had a college education. Before he had been three days in Ashland Elgin maneuvered an introduction to Miss Molly Wendell, a charming young person with a penchant for baseball, and obtained permission to call. Within a fortnight he had availed himself three times of that permission, and they were on very friendly terms, indeed. This evening he arrayed himself with especial care, and sallied forth about half past seven, alone, from the hotel. Miss Wendell lived in the best residential section of town; but, as he made his way thither, Elgin was not so occupied with thoughts of the pleasure in store for him as to be blinded to the feminine charms of any chance passers-by. That was not his way. Having bestowed appreciative and very open glances on several attractive factory girls hurrying along the main street, the cub pitcher struck into a quieter thoroughfare which led toward his destination. He had almost reached High Street when a rickety, swaying hack, looking as if it might have seen its best days in some Northern city a decade ago, passed him and came to a stop in front of the corner house. Before the negro driver had time to open the door the horse――a big, raw-boned animal――took it into his head to back. Quite undisturbed and rather amused at the coon’s flow of language, Elgin watched the ancient vehicle tilt dangerously until it seemed as if another moment would see it topple over. Then he came opposite the door, glanced curiously into the hack, and the next instant became transformed.