"Well, I can't say any more," he finished. "Now let's forget all this, and have a game of chess, somebody. It will make me sleep good."
"I'm going to cut," said George. "You fellows can play."
Tom and Jack sat down to the royal game, while Bert got out a book, and for a time silence reigned in the apartment.
Tom made an early trip to town the next day. He went directly to the drugstore, the torn label of which was on the bottle he had found to contain a trace of poison.
Without going into details, but announcing who he was, he asked if the druggist could give him any information as to who had bought the cyanide.
"Well, I can look at my records," said the pharmacist. "I keep a list of all persons to whom I sell poison, and make them sign a receipt for it. Of course I have no means of knowing that the names are true ones. There are some poisons I sell only on a doctor's prescription, but it is not against the local law to dispense cyanide, and it has many legitimate uses. I'll look it up for you."
He disappeared behind his ground-glass partition, to return presently, announcing:
"My clerk made that sale. He'll be in presently, and he can tell you who bought the stuff. The name signed is Jacob Crouse, however."
"Jacob Crouse," mused Tom, and he slowly shook his head. Yet there was a gleam of hope in his eyes. "Maybe it isn't him after all."
Tom spent a fretful half hour, waiting for the clerk to come in, and he was nervous lest some of the school lads enter and question him as to his presence in the place. For Tom was not anxious that his errand be known except to his chums. But none from Elmwood Hall came in, and shortly the clerk arrived. There was a whispered conference between him and the proprietor, and the clerk addressed Tom.