"Tryin' to think! Look here, you told me you'd never done anything like this before—you'd never played baseball f'r money. Now anybody'd s'pose you'd had so many offers you couldn't remember 'bout 'em. You was mighty partic'lar to have it 'ranged so nobody'd be likely to find out who you was."
Lefty smiled a bit ruefully.
"Apparently all that precaution was wasted," he said. "I give you my word, Mr. Cope, that I have no recollection of ever receiving a letter from Mike Riley, and I am doubly certain that he holds no communication from me. You know I did not send you a written answer to your proposition. A college pitcher who wrote such letters, and signed them with his own name, would prove himself a fool. He'd never know when the letter might bob up to confound him. It would be evidence enough to get him dropped from his college team in double-quick time. No, I am positive I never wrote to Riley."
Cope breathed somewhat easier, although he was still very much disturbed.
"Then, even if he writ to you, there wasn't no negotiations, for it takes two parties, at least, to enter inter negotiations. He'll find he can't bluff me on that tack."
