Bailey Weegman, having stated the business that had unexpectedly brought him down from the North to the Florida town where the great left-hander of the Blue Stockings was spending the winter with his wife, once more settled back, taking a long, satisfied pull at the stump of his fragrant Havana. He was chuckling beneath his breath. A gentle breeze crept into the leaves of the vine-covered porch and set them whispering like gossips. The dynamo droned drowsily in the distance. Presently Lefty found his voice. "What's the joke?" he asked a trifle harshly. "No joke," assured the jovial visitor. "I'm not given to joking. I'm a man of business." "But it's preposterous! A pitcher for manager!" "Clark Griffith isn't the only pitcher who has succeeded as a manager." "Griffith's success came when he was on the decline as a pitcher." "What's the use to argue, Locke? There's really no good reason why a pitcher shouldn't manage a ball team. You've been doing it with the little amateur club you've been running down here in Fernandon this winter." "Because necessity compelled. Nobody else would take hold of it. I organized the team for a special reason. It's made up mainly of visitors from the North. No salaries are paid. I had located here for the winter, and I wanted to keep in trim and work my arm into shape for the coming season. I couldn't find anybody else to organize the club and handle it, so I had to. I have only three other players who have been with me from the start. The rest of the nine has been composed of changing players who came and went, college men, or just plain amateurs who have taken to the sport. We have played such teams as could be induced to come here from Jacksonville, St. Augustine, and other places. Handling such a club has given me absolutely no reason to fancy myself qualified to manage one in the Big League." "I've been keeping my eye on you," said Weegman patronizingly, "and I am satisfied that you can fill the position of playing manager for the Blue Stockings." "You're satisfied--you! How about Charles Collier?" "As you know, he's a sick man, a very sick man. Otherwise he'd never have dropped everything just at this time to go to Europe along with a physician and trained nurses. He has been too ill to attend properly to his regular business outside baseball, and therefore his business has suffered. He has had heavy financial reverses that have worried him. And now the meddling of the Feds has hurt the value of the ball club. The stock wouldn't bring at a forced sale to-day half what it should be worth. Mr. Collier trusts me. He was anxious to get some of the load off his shoulders. He has left me to straighten out matters connected with the team." "Where is Mr. Collier now?" asked Locke quietly. "He was taking the baths at Eaux Chaudes when last heard from, but he has since left there. I can't say where he is at the present time." "Then how may he be communicated with in case of emergency?"