"Not—not to my knowledge, Mr. Haley," the storekeeper said, shaking his head slowly.
"Oh, Nelson!" gasped Janice, coming nearer and touching his arm lightly.
The young man's hands were clenched. He had a temper and it nearly mastered him now. But he had learned to control himself. Otherwise he could never have been as successful as he was in handling his pupils. His eyes darted lightning at the druggist; but the latter was too excited to realize Nelson Haley's mood.
"This fellow has been to the postmaster to try to discover if I bought my money-order the other day with gold coin; but the postmaster obeyed the rules of the Department and refused to answer. He and the other committeemen are doing every underhanded thing possible to injure me. Cross Moore even tried to get into my rooms to search my trunk—but Mrs. Beaseley threatened him with a broom.
"It doesn't surprise me that Mr. Massey should attempt in this way to find what he calls 'a clue.' The only clue he and his friends are looking for is something with which to connect me with the robbery."
Janice's light touch on his arm again, stayed his wrathful words; but the druggist's freckled face glowed—red under the young man's gaze.
"Wal!" he grunted, shortly, "we're bound to look after our own skins—not after yours, Mr. Haley."
"I believe you!" exclaimed the schoolmaster in scorn, and turned away.
"But, say, Hopewell, ye ain't answered me yet," went on Massey, again addressing the storekeeper.
"Well—I couldn't say offhand——"