CHAPTER XXXI "PLAY BY PLAY"
At one o'clock the next afternoon the cement seats of Soldiers' Field,where seventy thousand spectators were to witness a football classic ofunparalleled interest, began filling up. The place had been sold out forten days. Even before the Red Rover vanished every ticket was gone. Therewere several reasons for this. It was a charity game; the entire netproceeds of the game were to be expended on the city's needy. It was thegreat game of the year. The rivalry between Old Midway and Northern hadever been keen, never keener than now, for this game was to decide thechampionship of the conference. The Red Rover was to play, and it hadbeen rumored abroad that this would be his last game, that he would notreturn to his squad in the following autumn. It was to be the Old Midwaycoach's last game. He had definitely retired. And those who loved theGrand Old Man of football were legion.
So here they were gathering early. Some coming from afar had arrivedearly. Some, fearing that the place had been oversold, were hastening tosecure their seats.
All morning there had been a whisper abroad. "The Red Rover will playto-day." Thus the whisper ran. One heard it on the street corner, behindthe counters in department stores, in the corner cigar store. When theover-curious rang up a newspaper office they were greeted by a curtdenial. "We know nothing of it. Wish we did!" Bang! went the receiver.The phones of Old Midway's office rang constantly. "No! No! No!" thepatient clerks repeated over and over. "He has not returned to OldMidway."
So over that great city expectancy hung like a thin cloud. And the earlyarrivals on the field whispered:
"Will he be here?"
* * * * * * * *
In the office beside the lighthouse on far away Passage Island sat DrewLane and Johnny Thompson. Whatever else happened, they would not see thegame. There were two others who would not see that game. Tony Piccalo andSpike O'Connor sat moodily in the far corner.
"It's some time before the game," Drew commented dryly, casting asignificant glance at a radio that stood against the wall. "Just abouttime for a little story. You'll be interested in this." He turned toJohnny. "You've guessed at a part of it. Now it all may be told.
"You fellows--" He addressed himself to the others. "You fellows are notkidnapers by profession. Give the devil his dues. But for all that, thefellow who stoops to kidnaping in order that he may gain an end just onceis lost, or should be. It's the lowest crime on the docket, the leastromantic, the most cowardly.
"You," his voice rose, "are professional gamblers, and that rates youpretty low, too."
He turned to Johnny. "You see, what happened was this. These fellows,with Tony's brother, Angelo, have been operating a gambling den beneathAngelo's flower shop for a long time. Race track stuff, baseball poolsand all that. Somehow we didn't get next to them until you found thatjimmy bar that lifted the Red Rover's window, and the shoe that made theinvisible footprint was brought in by the Rat. Then we began to suspectsomething.
"When you brought in that batch of shavings from Angelo's favorite pocketknife and we found they matched those made near the scene of thekidnaping; when you told us about being thrown from that room beneath theflower shop, we knew we were on the way."
The pair of culprits sat listening in stolid silence. Johnny heaved asigh. So he had been useful in this search. He was glad.
"We found out in no time at all," Drew went on, "that these birds hadorganized a football pool. They were betting on a grand scale on to-day'sgame, giving all manner of odds. And why not? You cowards!" He shot alook at the corner of the room. "You knew all the time that you meant tokidnap the Red Rover and hide him on Isle Royale until the game was over.
"The game." His voice dropped. "The game has not yet started. Thekick-off is at two o'clock. And such a game as it will be!
"You see," he turned again to Johnny, "when we knew what you haddiscovered, the rest was easy. Tony, here, is a licensed pilot and ownsthat big amphibian. Owns it! Strange what some men will do to get moremoney when they are already rich! But crooked money calls for more andmore, always more and more. That's why a crooked dollar is such aterrible thing to possess.
"Since Tony had that plane and he had been at Isle Royale last summer, asyoung Angelo told you, as soon as we saw that clipping about themysterious plane over Isle Royale, we knew just where to go.
"You know the rest." He smiled at Johnny. "How we found them and gotthem, how we flew here in the red racer just in time to prevent thebroadcasting of our great discovery.
"What you don't know, and what these fellows don't exactly know," hiseyes snapped, "is what is about to happen down there in the city.
"There'll be a football game played. Right! The Red Rover will play.He'll win!
"And here comes the kidnapers' reward. Some crooks get to jail rich. Theybeat the rap or go free in two years, still rich. None of that here!"
He turned once more to the corner. "You fellows, you and your associateshave bet your last dollar on the team that was to defeat Old Midwaybecause of your crookedness. We know where all that money is stored. Thatteam will not win. My pal, Tom Howe, and plenty more cops are ready tosee that every dollar you wagered is paid. Andthen--you--will--be--broke!"
A groan came from the corner.
"You think that's too tough!" Drew leaped to his feet. "It's not! Nothingis too bad for a kidnaper.
"And you, Tony!" He pointed a finger. "You kidnaped that Berley Todd, adefenseless girl, because you could, and because you thought you couldpull down twenty extra grand for yourself.
"She'll be cheering on the side lines." He laughed a happy laugh. "Thatlittle girl will be cheering for the Red Rover, the best sport that everlived. And you fellows are going to sit right in this room, getting theradio report and hearing yourselves go broke play by play. _Play byPlay!_"