"Oh get out!" interrupted Jack. "You do just as you please, Tom, and we'll fill in, or play wherever you want us. This is your game, anyhow, though we want to help you all we can. Just say the word."
"That's good of you," assented our hero. "I think it would be best if I went alone. I'll tell you later what I find out. I think I'll go now. It isn't too late."
"It's after hours," said Bert.
"Well, I'll take a chance," decided Tom, and putting on his hat and coat he prepared to leave the dormitory, first having ascertained that the coast was clear.
Tom was half way down the corridor of the building where he and his chums roomed, and he was thinking of what might come from his prospective interview with the druggist, when, as he turned a dark corner, he ran full tilt into someone who was coming with some speed in the other direction.
"Wha—what's the matter! Who—who are you?" gasped Tom, when he had recovered his breath.
"I—I—who are you?" came the quick retort, and the voice was suspicious. Whoever it was evidently was not going to be caught by a prowling monitor.
"George Abbot!" gasped Tom, as he recognized the voice of his chum.
"What in the world is the rush? What's the hurry?"
"News! I've got great news!" cried George. "Cats! But you knocked the wind out of me all right. I—I was coming fast myself, I guess. Where are you going?"
"Out," replied Tom briefly. "But what's the news?"