But, although surprised by the man’s nerve, Benton King was not jostled from the perch of belief on which he had settled. He had thought that the fellow, fairly cornered, would not dare to make a point-blank denial. It seemed, however, that Locke had elected to play the hand out, even with the leading trumps against him. He turned and smiled into the blue eyes of the rejoicing girl. “And I am glad to know you felt so sure I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I trust your confidence in me may never waver.” “For real, pure bluff,” thought Bent King, “that’s the limit! But it’s a losing game. He’s fouled himself now for fair.” Getting his breath, he spoke aloud: “It’s strange I should make such a mistake, Mr. Locke――very strange. Of course, I know that many college players go in for summer ball on the quiet. Just to satisfy my own curiosity, I’ve sent for some information concerning Paul Hazelton, who made a record by pitching and winning two of Princeton’s big games recently. Of course, as you say you are not Hazelton, I might have spared myself the trouble. Still, if the friend to whom I sent can get hold of a picture of Hazelton, it will be amusing to make a comparison between that likeness and yourself, just to see how strong the resemblance may be. I have an idea that Hazelton is almost your perfect double.” “It would be rather odd, wouldn’t it, if it should prove so?” smiled Locke coolly. “Still, such things sometimes happen. I think I’ll hustle along to the hotel. Good morning, Mr. King. Good morning, Miss Harting. I trust I’ll soon have the pleasure of seeing you again at the games.” They stood there and watched his retreating figure until he passed from view round a corner. Janet’s face, though showing satisfaction, was a bit haughty and accusing as she spoke to Bent. “I hope you realize now,” she said bitingly, “that you have made a big blunder.” “No,” he returned, “it was that man Hazelton who made the blunder in denying his identity.” “Why――why, do you still think――” “I haven’t the slightest doubt in the world――he is Paul Hazelton. I’ll prove to your satisfaction, Janet, that he is not only dishonest, but a most contemptible liar, as well.” CHAPTER XXVI WAS IT A BLUFF? Kingsbridge was to play at home that day, with Lakeport. It being the middle of the week, the crowd on hand at the hour for the game to begin was not more than one-third as large as the average Saturday attendance. The enthusiasm aroused by the two clean victories over Bancroft, however, was sufficient to bring out nearly every interested Kingsbridger who could come; and many who knew they should not do so came, temporarily neglecting their business. Soothing a troubled conscience is often the task of the howling fan on the bleachers, and if games were never attended save by those who feel that they have a perfect right to attend, the gate receipts would dwindle frightfully.