“But, of course,” put in Jorkins hastily, “if you enter into any sort of a deal with Hutchinson, we don’t care to know about it. You’re engaged to manage the team, and see that it wins; but no member of the association is going to advise you to go out for victory in anything but a legitimate, honest manner. I trust you’ll see fit not to come to me with information concerning a deal with this dishonest rascal, Hutchinson.” “And don’t tell _me_ anything about it,” cautioned Butler. “I have a conscience, and I’d feel it my duty to protest.” Riley produced a fresh cigar, twisted off the end with his teeth, and lighted a match. Puffing at the cigar, with the match flaring at the end of it, he made no effort to mask the faint, sneering smile upon his face. “You’re all men with consciences, I know that,” he said. “I wouldn’t for the world do a thing to make any of ye lose sleep at night. Go home and rest easy. That’s all I have to say.” He rose to his feet. “I’m very glad to hear you speak that way,” said Jorkins. “It lifts something of a load from my shoulders.” “Mine, too,” said Butler. “I was worried, but I feel better now.” CHAPTER XXI A SECRET MEETING At nine o’clock that night, Bob Hutchinson, smoking, stood on the steps of the Central Hotel, in Kingsbridge, and waited. Presently two men, one stout and heavy, the other slender and quickstepping, came round the nearest corner, and hurried toward the steps. “Well, here he is!” muttered Hutchinson, recognizing the heavy man as Riley. “Hist!” breathed the Bancroft manager, as he puffed up the steps. “’Fraid you wouldn’t be here. Let’s not hang round. Take us up to y’ur room.” “Come on,” said Hutchinson, leading the way. It was not necessary to pass through the hotel office and writing room, where there were a number of loungers, and some drummers. They mounted the stairs, and reached Hutchinson’s room without encountering any one. “Shut the door,” said Riley the moment he was inside. “That was lucky. Nobody seen us come here.” “Rather lucky,” agreed the Kingsbridge manager, turning the key in the lock. “I’d just as lief not have it known that you’re here. I didn’t want you to come, but you insisted. How’d you get here?” “Gas wagon.” “Oh, yes. Where is it?” “Left it on the outskirts, so’s not to attract attention. Give the chauffeur orders to drive off an’ come back in an hour.” “I tried to shut you off from coming when you telephoned, but――” “I was all ready to start. I’d made up my mind to see ye to-night, anyhow. Shake hands with Mr. Dyke, Mr. Hutchinson.” “Very glad to know you, sport,” said Fancy; but he dropped Bob Hutchinson’s cold hand almost as soon as he touched it. “I think Mike told you over the phone that I was all right.” The Kingsbridge manager shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t quite get wise to his reason for saying that. I presume this is nothing but a social call?”