For a moment he stood scowling at the superscription before he ripped the envelope open. The frown deepened as he noticed the length of the inclosure, and then, with narrowed eyes, he sought the signature. “Hazelton!” he muttered hoarsely. “I knew it!” Rapidly, with now and then a nervous glance around, his eyes flew over the closely filled pages. The letter had evidently been written by one very good friend to another. There was little in it which any one might not have read, yet its very tone, with those references to past experiences together, to mutual friends, to hopes and fears and interests held in common, sent Bert Elgin off into a spasm of rage. He had plumed himself on having, with great dexterity and presence of mind, obtained the inside track with quite the most fascinating girl that he had ever seen, only to discover that the man he hated with every fiber of his being seemed to have the inside track. “Confound him!” he cried, crushing the letter between his fingers, “I can’t seem to get away from him.” For a moment he stood there hesitating, his fingers busy tearing the purloined letter into shreds. Then he turned the corner, and began to walk hurriedly toward High Street. “I’ll beat him yet!” he vowed. “I’ll put him out of the running here, or I’m a dub!” CHAPTER XVII GUILE “Really?” exclaimed Janet Harting, her eyes sparkling. Then she laughed. “It’s luck you didn’t tell father. He has an idea that professional ball players aren’t quite respectable.” Bert Elgin bent slightly forward, a hurt expression in the eyes fixed upon her face. During the fifteen minutes in which he had labored strenuously to ingratiate himself with her father, and succeeded beyond his hopes, he had gathered, by skillful probing, the impression that the older man was just the sort to look askance on professional athletics. Not a hint of this now appeared on the surface, however. His voice was regretful, with just the proper touch of indignation in it. “I hope you don’t share his prejudice, Miss Harting?” he said quickly. “Not at all,” the girl hastened to assure him. “I adore baseball, and could never understand why a man shouldn’t take it up just as he would any other profession. It’s much better paid than many, and I’m sure it must be a great deal pleasanter than being cooped up all day in a stuffy office.”