"Oh, just out for my health," replied Sam, with a wink at his crony,
Nick.
As to Tom's position, it was the same as it had been. No official action had been taken against him—indeed none could be, since there was no good evidence to connect him with the crime. And yet he was suspected, and could not seem to prove his innocence.
"It's the queerest thing why he won't tell about where he went that night when he came in, smelling of smoke, and later, how he lost his sweater," commented Jack to Bert. "If I didn't know Tom, I'd say he had some hand in the business."
"And yet Tom didn't. And it wasn't his pin."
"Of course not. But a lot of the fellows think he's guilty. And Sam keeps his crowd on edge about it. He's always referring to Tom as the 'poisoner' and so he keeps the thing alive, when, if it wasn't mentioned, it might die out."
"That's right. The mean sneak! And yet I guess Tom would rather have it kept alive until he makes out his case, than to have it die down, and the suspicion still be against him."
"Oh, of course. And yet it doesn't seem as if he had a chance to make good."
"Oh, you leave it to Tom," said Bert. "He's got pluck, and if he has any decent sort of luck he'll pull out ahead."
"Well, maybe. Tom Fairfield's luck is proverbial you know. Look how he came out ahead in the shipwreck, and the finding of the treasure in the old mill."
The two chums were still discussing the case of their friend when they entered their room, and saw our hero busy writing letters.