I have a deep abiding interest, and that is Mr. Ladd. Have you your binoculars with you?"
"No."
"Then by all means beg, borrow or steal two pairs before this afternoon. We might easily miss half the fun without them. Are our seats near the starting line for the sprints?"
"Yes. The big demand was for seats near the finish line."
"The start will be much more interesting, Carnes. I was somewhat of a minor star in track myself in my college days and it will be of the greatest interest to me to observe the starting form of this new speed artist. Now Carnes, don't ask any more questions. I may be barking up the wrong tree and I don't want to give you a chance to laugh at me. I'll tell you what to watch for at the track."
THE sprinters lined up on the hundred yard mark and Dr. Bird and Carnes sat with their glasses glued to their eyes watching the slim figure in the colors of the Illinois Athletic Club, whose large "62" on his back identified him as the new star.
"On your mark!" cried the starter. "Get set!"
"Ah!" cried Dr. Bird. "Did you see that Carnes?"
The starting gun cracked and the runners were off on their short grind. Ladd leaped into the lead and rapidly distanced the field, his legs twinkling under him almost faster than the eye could follow. He was fully twenty yards in the lead when his speed suddenly lessened and the balance of the runners closed up the gap he had opened. His lead was too great for them, and he was still a good ten yards in the lead when he crossed the tape. The official time was posted as eight and nine-tenths seconds.
"Another thirty yards and he would have been beaten," said Carnes as he lowered his glasses.
"That is the way he has won all of his races," replied the doctor. "He piles up a huge lead at first and then loses a good deal at the finish. His speed doesn't hold up. Never mind that, though, it is only an additional point in my favor. Did you notice his jaws just before the gun went?"
"They seemed to clench and then he swallowed, but most of them did some thing like that."
"Watch him carefully for the next heat and see if he puts anything into his mouth. That is the important thing."
Dr. Bird sank into a brown study and paid no attention to the next few events, but he came to attention promptly when the final heat of the hundred yard dash was called. With his glasses he watched Ladd closely as the runner trotted up to the starting line.
"There, Carnes!" he cried suddenly. "Did you see?"
"I saw him wipe his mouth," said Carnes doubtfully.
"All right, now watch his jaws just before the gun goes."
THE final heat was a duplicate of the first preliminary. Ladd took an early lead which he held for three-fourths of the distance to the tape, then his pace slackened and he finished only a bare ten yards ahead of the next runner. The time tied his previous world's record of eight and four-fifths seconds.
"He crunched and swallowed all right, Doctor," said Carnes.
"That is all I wanted to be sure of. Now Carnes, here is something for you to do. Get hold of the United States Commissioner and get a John Doe warrant and go back to the hotel with it and wait for me. I may phone you at any minute and I may not. If I don't, wait in your room until you hear from me. Don't leave it for a minute."
"Where are you going, Doctor?"
"I'm going down and congratulate Mr. Ladd. An old track man like me can't let such an opportunity pass."
"I don't know what this is all about,
