CHAPTER XXXVII

THE DOCTOR’S DOUBTS

“Yes,” said Doctor Hetner, sitting in his office, facing Manager Kennedy, “of course it’s possible for such a thing to happen. Of course, the man’s mind may be affected, and he may not remember his former life and friends. At the same time, he may be suffering under a delusion, which has led him to take a new name and assume a different character. Such instances, although rare, are well known to medical science.”

“What brings them about?” inquired Kennedy eagerly.

“Overstudy, overwork, a diseased condition of the body or mind, a sudden shock――oh, numerous things. It has almost a thousand different forms. Psychologists and physicians who make a study of the subject recognize many of the symptoms.”

“Have you made a study of it, doc?”

“Not what you might call a thorough study, although, of course, among my books I have many which deal with neurasthenia and its allied forms. Still, I’ll give you my word that I never for a moment recognized the symptoms in Hazelton. It seemed to me that the fellow, when he met me on the train, was simply declining to acknowledge an old acquaintance for reasons of pride or something of that sort. That it was aphasia didn’t occur to me. It’s likely you know how he happened to go into baseball under a fake name?”

“But there ain’t no disgrace playing baseball these days,” growled the old manager. “There’s as clean a set of fellers in the game as you can find anywhere.”

“Nevertheless, prejudice exists in the minds of many old-fashioned persons, such as Phil Hazelton’s father must be. To them, playing baseball is a great deal like taking part in a circus performance. They can’t see that it has become an honorable, legitimate, recognized profession, followed by hundreds upon hundreds of clean, honest young men. You understand why I doubt this being a genuine case of loss of identity? I believe Hazelton is trying to hide himself under an assumed name and personality.”

Old Jack shook his head.

“He ain’t no fool, doctor; he can’t help knowing that I know him and you know him. Elgin knows him, too. If he was a simple-minded idiot, he might continue to try to keep up the bluff. I tell you, that boy has gone wrong in his garret, and something ought to be done for him. I don’t know just how to do it.”

“Well, now, look here,” said the doctor; “I’m coming over to Deering in a day or two, Kennedy. In the meantime, I want you to try to trip Hazelton. Lead him into some sort of a give-away, an admission, then nail him. Tell him it isn’t any use to stick to the bluff.”

“And have him get red-headed and tell me to go straight to――well, you know where.”

“Never mind that.”

“But I do mind. With him pitching for the Deers, we can put ourselves into first place in two weeks’ time. I know just what he can do. Talk about John Coombs, the iron man, or ‘Cy’ Young in his palmy days――why, Lefty Locke is as good as either of them. He can pitch three days running, if necessary; and two or three games a week, with a day between each, is like loafing for him, especially in this bush league. Oh, I don’t want him to quit me!”

“I don’t blame you,” said Hetner, laughing; “but I don’t believe he’ll quit. Yet, if he belongs to the Blue Stockings, and they’re in need of him――”

Kennedy growled. “Then it’s up to me, if I’m decent, to let ’em know where they can find him. No matter how I feel about the way I was treated, it’s up to me just the same.”

“Still,” said the physician, “if the man isn’t right in his head, it would be wrong for him to go on pitching baseball without any treatment whatever.”

“Treatment?” said Kennedy. “Does treatment always cure ’em?”

“Sometimes it won’t do a blessed bit of good. Nothing cures them but a long rest, and, perhaps, a sudden accidental occurrence which flashes back into their brain the realization of their true identity. Sometimes a situation may be successfully planned to bring this about; more often the most skillful planning results in absolute failure. But remember, I haven’t stated that Hazelton is a victim of such a delusion.”

“We’ll find out whether he is or not, doctor,” said the old manager, rising. “If he’s fooling, I’ll catch him at it. I’ll let you know right away if I trip him somehow. So long, doc.”

Kennedy had time to snatch a bite at the hotel and accompany the team to the station to take the train for Deering. Arriving at the latter place, they were welcomed by a gathering at the station, for the whole town had learned by telephone the result of the game in Hatfield.

“Where’s your new pitcher, Jack――where is he?” they shouted. “He ought to be all right.”

“He is,” assured Kennedy, waiting on the car platform until Lefty was forced to appear. “He didn’t let the Bucks have a run after he mounted the slab. Here’s Bob Stranger, gents, and, believe me, he’s the man I’ve been looking for to win the pennant with. If I can keep him, we’ll nail it.”

“Keep him!” yelled one of the crowd. “If you let him get away, your life won’t be safe around these parts!”