"You wish to know who bought cyanide, some time ago?" asked the young man.
"Yes," said Tom. "Can you describe Jacob Crouse?"
"I don't know that he gave me the right name," said the clerk. "In fact I suspect he didn't. But he was a young fellow, about your own age and build."
"He was!" exclaimed Tom, and his voice showed disappointment.
"Yes, but he was not so well dressed. In fact he was rather shabby. He said he wanted the stuff to kill rats, and asked the best way to prepare it. I tried to sell him some regular rat poison, but he wanted the cyanide. I told him to mix it with corn meal. He said there were lots of rats on his father's farm."
"He said that?" cried Tom.
"Yes. Oh, they make up all sorts of stories when they want to get suspicious stuff, though there's no law here against cyanide. Why, did some one of your friends poison someone, or commit suicide?"
"Oh, not as bad as that," replied Tom. "Is that all you can tell me about this—this person?"
[Transcriber's note: The next piece of text has several missing fragments, which seem to have been caused during printing. I have indicated the missing text with brackets.]
"Well, about all—hold on, though, he had a big scar on—let me see—on his left cheek. It extended from his eye almost to his [missing words] livid, ugly scar."