When the door was closed, the grocer faced the young pitcher. "Hazelton," he said, "why didn't y'u tell me you had been negotiatin' with Riley?"
Much of Locke's sleepy appearance vanished.
"What's that?" he asked sharply. "Negotiating with Riley? What are you talking about? I haven't been negotiating with him. What do you take me for, Mr. Cope? Do you think I would do a thing like that after entering into an agreement with you?"
"I don't mean that you've been dickerin' with him since then, but before. You never told me that Riley had made any proposition to ye to pitch f'r Bancroft this season."
"Who says he did?"
"He says so. He came here last night and stated that he had fust claim on ye, 'cordin' to the rules of the league, which bars any manager from tryin' to git a man another manager is negotiatin' with."
Tom Locke was very wide awake now.
"How could he make any such claim. It is preposterous, Mr. Cope, as you ought to know. I hope you haven't let that man bluff you. Why, he doesn't know who I am!"
"Oh, but he does—that's the thing of it. He
