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 the league will put Mr. Paul Hazelton on the blacklist."

Again Henry Cope tugged at Locke's coat skirts; he looked pitifully downcast and disheartened.

"You tole me," he whispered dolefully, "that you had it on 'em somehow, but it seems t' me that they've got it on you."

"Wait a minute, Mr. Cope," was the cool reply; "this meeting is not over, and there is something mighty interesting yet to come." He turned to the others. "Mr. President, I have some witnesses, waiting outside at my request, whom I ask leave to introduce. I will call them."

Stepping swiftly to one of the open windows, he thrust his head out and called. Directly footsteps were again heard on the stairs. The door was flung open to admit Sam Bryant, the bell boy of the Central Hotel at Kingsbridge, followed by a stranger, who did not seem more than twenty years of age. The entrance of the boy appeared, for once, at least, to jostle Bob Hutchinson out of his usual unemotional calm, and the manager glared at Sam, alarm and menace in his unpleasant eyes.

"I have asserted that this letter," said Locke,