"No other direct evidence, perhaps," admitted Jack, "but, somehow I just feel in my bones that Sam poisoned those horses, and threw the blame on you. He must have seen you leave here with that sweater on, and come back without it. It was just pie for him to say what he did."
Tom slowly shook his head.
"What? Don't you believe Sam guilty?" asked Bert.
"No, I can't say that I do."
"But he is!" asserted Jack. "It was his sweater the farmer saw instead of yours. You're both about the same height and build. Of course Sam did it, Tom."
"No, I can't agree with you. I'll admit I did wear my sweater when I left here the night the horses were poisoned, and I came back without it, but———"
"What in the world happened to it?" demanded Jack.
"That I can't say—yet."
"Will you ever be able to?" Bert wanted to know.
"I hope to in time—perhaps soon now. Mr. Appleby picked it up—that much I'll have to admit."