"You know better than that. The trade was legitimate, and it will stand. Frazer can collect by law. Any other deal that I make will go through, too, whether you are aware of it at the time or not. Until Charles Collier himself takes away my authority, I'm manager of the team with the legal right to carry out my own plans, and I intend to do so. I shall ask no advice from you, and any suggestion you may make I shall look upon with distrust." They fought it out, eye to eye, and presently Weegman's gaze wavered before that of the unawed southpaw. The man he had sought to make his blind tool was defying him to his face. "I see your finish!" he declared. "And I see yours," countered Locke. "You think you're a clever crook. You're merely an instrument in the hands of a bigger and cleverer scoundrel who doesn't care a rap what happens to you if he can put his own miserable scheme over. Your partnership with him will be your ruin, anyhow. If you had half the sense you think you possess, you'd break with him without losing any time." "What are you talking about? I've only planned to do my best to save a team that has been raided by the Feds. You're killing the last chance for the Blue Stockings." "Tell it to Sweeny!" exclaimed Lefty. "You're trying to deliver the team into the hands of Tom Garrity. Deny it if you wish, but it isn't necessary to lie. You've played Judas with Collier." "Be careful! Better take that back!" Lefty laughed. "I'm ready to add more to it. I haven't told you half what I know. If I were to do so, you'd realize what a dumb fool you have made of yourself. You think you're wise to all that was planned, but you've been let in on only a very little of it. You'll tear your hair when you get a squint at the foundation stone of this neat little conspiracy." "I--I don't know what you mean." "That's right, you don't; but you will know in time. You'll be kept in the dark as long as it suits Tom Garrity." "What's Garrity got to do with it?" Locke smiled on him pityingly. "Don't be childish, Weegman. That sort of a bluff is too thin. I was wise when I signed to manage the team." In vain the man stormed, threatened, coaxed, cajoled; he could not bend Lefty in the least, and at last he realized that he had made a big blunder in estimating the character of the southpaw. "So it's war between us, is it?" he finally asked. "I have looked for nothing else," answered the pitcher. Weegman snapped his fingers in Locke's face. "All right!" he cried. "You would have it! Just you wait! You're going to regret it! We'll see how long you last!" And, turning round, he strode away, muttering to himself. CHAPTER XXIX THE JAWS OF THE TRAP