"Well, I can't understand it myself, Mabel," he replied.

"Are you sure you didn't sign that contract, thinking it was something else--an order for something, or something like that?" questioned Clara.

"I'm not in the habit of signing anything without knowing what it is,"

said the crack pitcher. "If any of those fellows had brought such a thing to me to sign, I would have handed it back and given the fellow a piece of my mind. No, there is something else in all this, though what it is I haven't the faintest idea."

"It's too bad we're so far away from those fellows just at present," put in Jim. "If we were close by we might interview them, and find out some of the details that are as yet missing. And then maybe somebody would get a broken head," he added vigorously.

"Oh, Jim! would you break anybody's head?" burst out Clara in horror.

"I sure would if he was trying to put Joe in such a hole as this!"

returned the young man promptly. "Maybe you don't understand what a black eye this is calculated to give your brother."

"Oh, yes, I can understand that well enough," sighed Joe's sister.

"I think it's the meanest thing that ever could possibly happen!" burst out Mabel. "And I don't wonder that Jim is angry enough to break somebody's head for it," and she looked lovingly at Joe.

"Oh, I suppose it will come out all right in the end," answered Joe. But he said this merely to ease Mabel's mind. Secretly he was afraid that he was in for some real trouble.

It was early spring when they landed in Naples, but the winter had been prolonged more than usual and it was too cold to play. At Monte Carlo and Nice, however, they were able to get in two games, both of which were won by the All-Americans. This put the teams again on an equality as to games won and lost, and revived the hopes of the All-Americans that they might still come out ahead in the series.

They made but a short stay in Paris, and the weather was so inclement that games were out of the question. But it would have taken more than bad weather to prevent the shopping and sightseeing that all had been looking forward eagerly to in the great French capital, and they enjoyed their visit to the full.

In London they met with the greatest welcome of their trip. They played at Lord's Oval, the most famous grounds in the United Kingdom, and before an audience that included the most distinguished people in the realm, including the king himself.

The American colony, too, was there almost to a man, and the United States amba.s.sador lent his presence to the occasion.

It was the most distinguished audience, probably, that had ever witnessed a baseball game.

And here it was that Joe did the most brilliant pitching of the trip. His tireless arm mowed down his opponents inning after inning. They came to the bat only to go back to the bench. His mastery of the ball seemed almost uncanny, and as inning after inning pa.s.sed without a hit being made, it began to look as though he were in for that dream of all pitchers--a no-hit game.

Brennan, the Chicago manager, fidgeted restlessly on the bench and glowered as his pets were slaughtered. He tried all the tactics known to clever managers, but in vain. It was simply a day when Baseball Joe was not to be denied.

His comrades, too, gave him brilliant support and nothing got away from them, so that when finally the last man up in the ninth inning in the All-American team lifted a towering skysc.r.a.per that Joe caught without stirring from his tracks, a pandemonium of cheers forced him to remove his cap and bow to the applauding crowds again and again.

Not a man had scored, not a man had been pa.s.sed, not a man had reached first, not a man had hit safe. Joe had won the most notable game in his whole career!

CHAPTER XXIX

THE RUINED CASTLE

With London as their center the teams made flying trips to Edinburg, Glasgow and Dublin. In all three places they received a royal welcome, for the fame of that great game in London had spread throughout the nation and all were eager to see the hero of that occasion.

Under other circ.u.mstances Joe would have been jubilant, for he was at the very height of his reputation, the girl he loved was with him, as well as his only sister and his closest friend, but ever in his thoughts like the spectre at the feast was that matter of the signed contract--the abominable thing that smirched his reputation and branded him to the world as false to his word and bond.

Again and again he sought to find the key to the mystery. It seemed like some monstrous jugglery, something akin to the fakir's tricks that he had witnessed at Colombo where the impossible had seemed so clearly possible.

Try as he would he could find no explanation of the puzzle and his friends were equally powerless to suggest a solution.

The game at Dublin, which commenced auspiciously for the Giants, was turned into a rout by a rally of the All-Americans in the ninth. A rain of bingles came from their bats and they won easily with six runs to spare.

"Got it in the neck that time, old man," said Joe to Jim, after the game.

"But we can't always win. What do you say to getting a buzz wagon and taking a little spin out into the country? The girls will be getting ready for that reception at the Viceroy's castle, and they'll be too busy dolling up to care what becomes of us."

"Good idea," said Jim, and the two friends made their way to a public garage, secured a good car together with a driver, and whirled away into the open country.

They had made perhaps twenty miles through the beautiful Irish scenery when Joe called Jim's attention to a cloud bank forming in the west.

"Better skip back, old man," he said. "We're due for a wetting if we don't."

"Plenty of time yet," objected Jim. "Those look to me just like wind clouds. Let's see a little bit more of Ireland."

They went on perhaps five miles further and then Jim found that his confidence was misplaced. The clouds grew blacker, an ominous muttering was heard in the sky and a jagged flash of lightning presaged the coming storm.

"You see I was right," said Joe. "In this open car we'll be drenched to the skin. Turn around, Mike," he said to the driver, "and let's see how fast this old boat of yours can travel in getting back to Dublin. Throw her into high and give her all you've got."

The driver obeyed and the car fairly purred as it sped back toward the city. But fast as it was, the storm was faster. Great raindrops pattered down, and they looked anxiously about for shelter.

"What's that place up there, Mike?" asked Jim, pointing to a rambling stone structure on an elevation perhaps a hundred yards from the road.

"'Tis the castle o' the last o' the O'Brian's, hivin rist his sowl,"

replied Mike. "But they do be sayin' the place is hanted, an' 'tis a brave man that would be shteppin' inside the dhure."

"I'm a brave man, then," cried Jim. "For I'll face a dozen ghosts before I would this storm. Turn in, Mike, and we'll wait there till the rain is over."

With a muttered protest Mike did as directed, and a moment later the young men stepped jauntily through the ruined portal, while Mike, shocked at their temerity, crossed himself and, throwing an oilskin over his head, crouched low in his seat, preferring the discomfort of the open to the unknown terrors that might lurk beyond the doorway of the ruined castle.

The friends had scarcely stepped inside before the rain came down in torrents.

"Lucky we got here just as we did," remarked Joe, as they leaned up against the masonry of the ruined hall and looked out at the cloudburst.

"It surely was," agreed Jim. "I wish we had a little more light. It's as dark as Egypt in here."

"I've got my pocket flashlight with me," said Joe, reaching toward his hip pocket. "But listen, what's that?"

"I didn't hear anything," returned Jim, a little nervously, it must be admitted.

The two ball players kept perfectly still for a minute and heard what seemed to be the murmur of voices a room or two away.

"Can it be that the last of the O'Brians is rambling about the castle?"

whispered Jim, with a feeble attempt at raillery.

"More likely some travelers stormbound like ourselves," returned Joe practically. "Let's take a squint at them."