"Hey, George!"
"Yeah?" said Ethelbert, checking a pass in the act of throwing.
"Come here, please. Mr. Grogan wants to see you."
Day's tone made Ethelbert's heart sink as he lumbered off the field. When he squeezed into the dressing room he found Grogan, looking as unhappy as he, Ethelbert, felt.
"George," said Grogan, "I hate to tell you this, but the committee has decided nix."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, they passed a new rule. No more gigantanths, pithecanthropes, or other products of the Huebner experiments will be allowed to play in the League. To make sure they've added a top-weight rule: nobody over 350 pounds."
"Gee," was all Ethelbert could say.
Day spoke up: "They can't do that in the middle of the season, Ollie."
"Maybe not, but they did. George, I'll arrange for the truck to take you back to your reservation free, if you want to go. You want to go, don't you?"
Ethelbert frowned. "How about my art course?"
"Oh, that's all off. You can't carry out your end of the contract, so you can't expect me to carry out mine, can you? I'm letting you off easy."
Ethelbert shook his great head: "I remember that contract just exactly, Mr. Grogan, and it said I was to get my course regardless of whether I was able to play or not. You remember, I insisted on that"
Grogan spread his hands. "Be reasonable; George. I'm having money troubles of my own, and with you out of the picture I can't afford your course. Can't get blood out of turnips, you know."
"You mean," rumbled Ethelbert, "you want to get out of your promise and this is a good excuse. Why, you dirty little so-and-so, I could break your back, like this —"
"Yeek!" Grogan dodged behind the coach and fumbled in his pocket. "Don't come a step nearer! Keep back or I'll cool
His hand brought out a small pistol. As Ethelbert hesitated, Grogan sidled toward the door, then dashed out. Ethelbert took two steps after him and got stuck in the door.
He pulled himself back inside the dressing room, shaking the building to its foundations, and turned upon Day. The coach paled and started to slink out the other door.
"Don't be scared of me, Mel!" roared Ethelbert. "I'm not mad at you."
"Well —"
"I know what it is. Just because you think I'm big and ugly, I'm some kind of gorilla that goes into wild rages and bites off a guy's head. All right, if that's how you feel. I thought you was a friend of mine."
"I'm sorry, George; I guess you did give me a turn for a moment. What are you going to do now?"
"Dunno. You know how much I eat compared to you little guys. My money won't last long at that rate. What do you do when somebody runs out on his promise?"
"Well, if it was me, I'd get a lawyer and sue."
"Don't you have to pay lawyers a lot of money ahead of time?"
"Usually yes, but some of 'em take cases on a contingent-fee basis. If they win, they take a percentage; if not, they don't get anything."
"Do you know any lawyers?"
Day closed his eyes for a few seconds. "We-ell, don't ever let Ollie know I tipped you off; after all I work for him. But if you go see Charlie MacAlpine at this address, he'll take care of you. Take your contract along."
Ethelbert went home with Szymczak as usual. Next morning, he persuaded the quarterback to drop him off at the lawyer's address on his way to practice.
When Ethelbert squeezed his way into the lawyer's office, the girl at MacAlpine's switchboard screamed and upset her chair. The sound brought MacAlpine from his sanctum — a stout, sleepy-looking man with a great gray mop of hair. The lawyer calmed the girclass="underline"
"Now, now, this is Mr. Ethelbert, who made an appointment by telephone. Nothing to get excited about. Come into the inner office, Mr. Ethelbert, and tell me your troubles. I think you can get through this door if you turn sideways."
When Ethelbert had told his story, MacAlpine said: "Ordinarily I don't take contingent-fee cases, but in this case I'll do it. The case would be worth the cost to me in free publicity if I never made a cent on it." He grinned through his fat and chuckled.
After they had gone over the contract, MacAlpine said: "All right, then, I'll draw up the complaint today; file it first thing tomorrow and have Grogan served."
"What'll I do meanwhile?"
"What do you mean, what'll you do?"
"I haven't got a job or anything, and I can't go on living off Bill Szymczak. And I don't think Mr. Grogan will let me use the truck any more when he learns I'm suing him."
"That's so. Look, I know a man near here I once did a favor for, and he's the manager of a hotel. I think I can get him to take you. And I'll see that you eat until the case is settled."
"Gee, I don't know how to thank you, Mr. MacAlpine."
On the way out, Ethelbert was tempted to ask the switchboard girl for a date, then thought better of it.
As Ethelbert and the lawyer walked along the street, little crowds formed to gape from a respectful distance. Ethelbert did not like it but could not think of anything to do about it.
The manager of the Elysian Hotel did not seem over-pleased to get a thousand-pound guest. He muttered about breaking down his beds.
"That's all right," said Ethelbert; "I wouldn't know how to sleep in a bed anyhow. Just put a couple of mattresses on the floor and I'll be okay."
"But, Mr. Ethelbert," said the manager, "can I count on you not to hang around the lobby? Not that we discriminate against people of your kind, you understand, but if somebody came in after a party to register at our hotel, and looked up and saw you, he might change his mind."
"Oh, I'll stay in my room all the time, except when I'm out to see Mr. MacAlpine," said Ethelbert. "I don't know Chicago well enough to go wandering around by myself; I'd get lost."
Next morning, MacAlpine telephoned Ethelbert: "Trot up to my office, George. Grogan and his lawyer are on their way."
At the office, MacAlpine told him: "They may want to settle out of court. I'll hide you in the inner office here. No matter what happens, keep still. I'll come in and tell you what they offer."
"Mr. MacAlpine," said Ethelbert, "maybe I'm being too tough on poor Mr. Grogan —"
"Bunk! Ollie Grogan's never given a sucker an even break in his life."
Ethelbert waited in the inner room, hearing faint voices, until MacAlpine came in: "George, they've offered to give you two-thirds of the price of your art course if you'll call off the suit. I had quite an argument. First they insisted you weren't human, and I had to cite a dozen cases to prove otherwise. Then they wanted to offer only a quarter or a half."
"What do you think?"
"I think you'd be smart to take it. Considering Ollie's financial condition, I'm afraid that if we try to get our last pound of flesh we'll only drive him into bankruptcy. The story going round is that he lost fifty thousand to some gangster in a poker game, and this individual is beginning to bear down on him."
Ethelbert thought. "Okay, Mr. MacAlpine. What do I do now?"
"We'll see." MacAlpine led his client into the outer office, where he shook hands with Grogan and his lawyer, all bearing glassy smiles upon their faces. Grogan said: "If you'll wait until tomorrow, George, I'll pay you —"
"Why not today, Mr. Grogan?"
Grogan shrugged. "Have to get the dough —"
"Excuse me, but don't you have one of them bank accounts? You could write a check."
"No, I don't like 'em. I keep my stuff in cash."
"Well then, I'll go with you to where you live, and you can pay me there."
MacAlpine said: "That seems reasonable to me, Mr. Grogan. After all —"
"All right," sighed Grogan. "You guys ready to go right now?"