“This is terrible!” ejaculated Charlie. “I never liked Clymer, and it is only lately we found out he was actually crooked in many little ways; but for all that I should never have dreamed him capable of committing such a dastardly act as setting fire to the store, not to speak of abandoning a fellow creature to such a fearful death as must have been the case if his plan had succeeded. Jack,” continued his chum, grasping him by the hand and shaking it warmly, “Mr. Prawle not only owes his life to you a second time, but father and all of us owe you a debt of gratitude for saving our property.”
“Don’t mention it, Charlie; rather thank an all-wise Providence, whose humble instrument I was, that an awful crime has been averted.”
“Boys,” interrupted the voice of Dr. Fox at that moment, “I want you to help me carry our strange visitor into my office.”
“Sure we will,” answered the boys in a breath.
“How is he?” asked Jack, as they drew up alongside the still unconscious Prawle. “Not dead, I hope.”
“No,” replied the doctor, in a serious voice, “but he is in a bad way. He has been drugged by chloroform. Must have tried to take his own life.”
“Not at all,” answered Jack, much to the doctor’s surprise. “If he is drugged, it is the work of Otis Clymer.”
“Impossible!” cried Dr. Fox, incredulously.
“Well, after I tell you what I know of this night’s, or rather morning’s, affair, I think you will agree that a deliberate murder, as well as arson, has been attempted.”
And Jack retailed the whole story to the doctor as soon as he and Charlie had laid Prawle upon the office lounge.