along at random, hampered by the huge tray. He had covered ten yards or more when he became aware that a small figure with a big slouchy cap pulled down over his eyes was racing along in front of him. Big Cap looked back for an instant, disclosing a keen, ratty little face, the stub of a cold cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth. Then the small man suddenly swerved to the left and disappeared into a box-like compartment. It was a telephone booth, Speedy discovered, and there was a whole row of them stretching out along that part of the Stadium.
On an impulse Speedy leaped into one of the booths. He slammed the door behind him. But he had reckoned without his tray. The booth was too narrow to contain both him and his impediment. The tray was caught outside. And it was too late now to rid himself of it. The two cops were standing just abaft the booth and were looking the other way into the grandstand, evidently believing Speedy had disappeared down there.
It was an exciting moment in the game and the whole crowd was on its feet yelling. Speedy wondered what had happened. It was just his luck to be caught in here just when the best part of the contest was going on! But his regrets promptly vanished and he bent an alert ear to the thin partition dividing him from the tough-looking little fellow in the next booth when he heard the latter talking over the 'phone and mentioning a familiar name.
"Carter is getting rid of old man Dillon today—" the man in the next booth was saying. Just then
