“I’ll tell them,” he thought. “Maybe they can see through it, for I’ll be hanged if I can. ‘The alarm clock!’ I wonder if I would be justified in picking up the rest of the pieces, and seeing what I could make of them? No! Of course I couldn’t read another fellow’s letter, even to solve the mystery. It’s not serious enough for that.”
Then Tom, after another look at the scrap he had, thrust it into his pocket, as much for the sake of preventing it from falling into the hands of curiosity seekers, as for any other reason.
“We’ll see what Phil and Sid can make of it,” he mused, and then, hearing someone approaching, Tom hastened on to his own room.
“It certainly is queer,” said Phil, when Tom had told him the result of his little excursion. “I think I’d almost have picked up the whole letter. Bascome couldn’t have cared much about it, or he wouldn’t have thrown the pieces into the hall. Guess I’ll go get ’em.”
“No, we can’t do a thing like that,” declared Sid quickly. “I know a better plan.”
“What?” inquired Tom.
“Let’s ask Wallops if he had a note to deliver to Bascome from Lenton. He may have gotten in our room by mistake.”
“Of course!” cried Tom, quickly. “The very thing. Maybe that will help clear it up.”
It was comparatively early, and Wallops was found in the janitors’ quarters.
“No,” he replied, in answer to Sid’s inquiry, “I haven’t seen Mr. Bascome or Mr. Lenton this evening, and I had no note for either of them, nor from one. And I wasn’t in your room.”