DISAPPOINTMENT
"Hello! What's up?"
"What's the excitement, Tom?"
Thus his two chums greeted our hero when he entered with the human
interrogation mark in tow.
"Something doing," responded Tom briefly.
"Did you trace the empty bottle so soon?" asked Jack.
"No, I didn't have time. But George here--out with it! Tell 'em what
you told me."
"I was coming along," began George, "when Tom ran into me and
knocked------"
"Never mind those horrible details," advised Tom, reflectively rubbing
that portion of his anatomy that had come in contact with George. "Cut
along faster."
"Well, I was coming to tell Tom that I saw Sam Heller being taken to
the doctor's office by old Appleby," went on George.
"Get out!" cried Bert, incredulously.
"Sam Heller!" gasped Jack. "I wonder if Appleby's found out that it
was Sam who poisoned his horses, and set the hay on fire?"
"That's it, I believe," said George. "That's why I came to tell Tom.
You're cleared all right now, old man."
His chums looked at him, but Tom only shook his head. "No such luck,"
he said in disappointed tones. "Sam may have been corralled by the old
farmer, but it's for something else besides the fire and poisoning."
"What makes you think so?" asked Jack. "Why won't you believe Sam
Heller guilty, Tom."
"Because I know he isn't."
"You do? Then you must know who is."
"No, that doesn't follow."
"Look here!" cried Jack, coming close to his chum, and placing his
hands on his shoulders, the while looking him squarely into the eyes.
"I can't understand you. Here you go and say Sam isn't guilty, and you
know it. And yet you say you don't know who did the business. You
didn't do it yourself, I'm sure, and yet------"
"Say Jack," spoke Tom gently. "Believe me, if I was _sure_ of what I
only _suspect_ now I couldn't really tell who poisoned those horses.
There's a mystery about it, and I'm trying to get to the bottom of it.
I want my name cleared more than anything else in the world, but I want
it done in the right way. I don't want to cast suspicion on the wrong
person. Now, George, tell us all you know about Sam being caught. It
may help some."
"Well, I don't know an awful lot," went on George, as he accepted a
chair that Jack pushed out for him. "I was coming in from a little
trip to town when I saw, coming across the campus, two fellows--at
least I thought they were two of our fellows, but when they got under
one of the lights I saw it was Sam and the old farmer. And, believe
me, Appleby had hold of Sam as if he was a thief and him the constable."
"As if Appleby was the thief?" asked Bert.
"No, as if Sam was. What's the matter with you fellows, anyhow, that
you can't understand United States talk?" and George looked around half
indignantly.
"The trouble is that you mix up your pronouns," said Tom. "Go ahead.
We got as far as that Appleby had hold of Sam as if Sam was a thief."
"Yes, and Sam was demanding to be let go, while the old farmer was
saying: 'Now I've got ye! Consarn ye! I'll teach ye t' come sneakin'
around my place! I'll have ye up afore th' doctor'!"
The boys all laughed at George's realistic imitation of the farmer's
talk, for it was quite correct.
"And then what happened?" asked Jack.
"That's all, except that I came on here in a hurry, and Sam was fairly
dragged into the doctor's office by Appleby."
There was silence in the room of the chums for a moment, and then Bert
remarked:
"Well, Tom, what do you make of it?"
"I don't know," was the answer, slowly given. "It looks queer, and yet
Sam may have only trespassed on Appleby's place by chance."
"Don't you believe it!" exclaimed Jack. "He had some object all right."
"And it's up to us to find out what it is," added Bert.
"No, I'll try it," insisted Tom. "This is my game."
"But we're going to help you play it!" exclaimed Jack. "What's the
matter with you, anyhow? Don't you want us to help you clear yourself
of this suspicion that's hanging over you?"
"Of course I do, but------"
"'But me no buts,' old man. Just you let us help you out in this. Now
it wouldn't look well for you to go around sneaking under the doctor's
windows, trying to hear what's going on. But it wouldn't hurt either
of us," and he indicated, by a sweeping gesture, himself and his two
close chums.
"So, Tom, my boy," he went on, "we'll just see what we can learn. The
doctor's sure to hold an audience with Appleby and Sam in the big front
office, and he always has a window open, for Merry is a fresh air
fiend, you know. Some of the talk will leak out and it may give us a
clew."
"All right," assented Tom, after a moment's thought. "Go ahead. I
don't believe it will amount to anything, though. Then I can go on
with my drug store end of it," and he briefly explained to George where
he had been headed for when the interruption came.
"Shall we all go?" asked Bert. "Won't it look sort of queer for three
of us to be hanging around the doctor's house?"
"It will," assented Jack, "and, therefore, we won't all hang out in the
same place. I'll get under the big office window; Bert, you can take
the window on the other side, and George will guard the front door."
"Guard the front door? For what?"
"Well, just sort of drape yourself around it," suggested Jack, who had
assumed the direction of matters. "Maybe you can overhear something as
Sam and Appleby come out. I don't just like this sort of thing," he
added, "but the end justifies the means, I think."
Tom nodded gravely. The stain against his name had affected him more
than he cared to admit. The three lads went out and Tom sat down in
moody silence to await their return. They were not long away, and came
back together, rather silent.
"Well?" asked Tom questioningly, as his chums entered.
"Nothing much," answered Jack in despondent tones. "We were almost too
late, but I did manage to overhear something. Sam and Appleby came out
a short time after we got there. It seems that the farmer caught Sam
sneaking around his barn, and as he's been suspicious, and on the watch
ever since the poisoning of his horses, he rushed out in a hurry and
collared him."
"What explanation did Sam make?" asked Tom.
"All I could hear was that it was a mistake, and that he wandered off
the road in the darkness."
"The same as we did when we got in the corn," said Tom. "So that's all
there was to it?"
"Except that Appleby was ripping mad, and threatened to have the next
school lad arrested whom he found on his property. We'll have to make
a new course for cross-country runs after this I guess, for we used to
run across his big meadow."
"Yes," assented Tom. "Well, I didn't think it would amount to
anything. I'm much obliged, though."
"You wait!" insisted Jack. "This isn't the bottom of it yet, not by a
long shot."
"What do you mean?" asked Tom curiously.
"I mean that Sam isn't such a loon as to get off the road on to
Appleby's land just by mistake, or because it was dark."
"You mean he went there purposely?"
"I sure do."
"What for?" and Tom gazed curiously at his chum.
"That's what I've got to find out. He had some object, and I shouldn't
be surprised but what it was you, Tom."
"Me?"
"Yes. He hasn't succeeded in driving you out of the Hall as he hoped,
and now he's up to some more mean tricks."
Tom shook his head. He had a curious disbelief in Sam's guilt.
"Go ahead on that line if you like, Jack," he said. "But I can't agree
with you. I'm going to follow my bottle clew to-morrow, and nothing
the others could say would make Tom admit that Sam had a hand in
poisoning the horses, or in setting the hay on fire.
"But look how ready he was to accuse you," insisted Bert.
"That was only to clear himself," said Tom. "The fact of his sweater
being like mine was a strange coincidence, and he had to say something."
"He was ready enough to accuse you," put in Jack. "Say, Tom, old man,
why don't you come out and tell us where you went that night--and why?
Tell us what you did--how your sweater got away from you, and was found
on the farm. Go ahead!"
"Do!" urged Bert.
But Tom shook his head.
"I can't--not yet," he said. "I promised Ray------"
He stopped suddenly. His chums leaned forward eagerly.
"Well, I can't say any more," he finished. "Now let's forget all this,
and have a game of chess, somebody. It will make me sleep good."
"I'm going to cut," said George. "You fellows can play."
Tom and Jack sat down to the royal game, while Bert got out a book, and
for a time silence reigned in the apartment.
Tom made an early trip to town the next day. He went directly to the
drugstore, the torn label of which was on the bottle he had found to
contain a trace of poison.
Without going into details, but announcing who he was, he asked if the
druggist could give him any information as to who had bought the
cyanide.
"Well, I can look at my records," said the pharmacist. "I keep a list
of all persons to whom I sell poison, and make them sign a receipt for
it. Of course I have no means of knowing that the names are true ones.
There are some poisons I sell only on a doctor's prescription, but it
is not against the local law to dispense cyanide, and it has many
legitimate uses. I'll look it up for you."
He disappeared behind his ground-glass partition, to return presently,
announcing:
"My clerk made that sale. He'll be in presently, and he can tell you
who bought the stuff. The name signed is Jacob Crouse, however."
"Jacob Crouse," mused Tom, and he slowly shook his head. Yet there was
a gleam of hope in his eyes. "Maybe it isn't him after all."
Tom spent a fretful half hour, waiting for the clerk to come in, and he
was nervous lest some of the school lads enter and question him as to
his presence in the place. For Tom was not anxious that his errand be
known except to his chums. But none from Elmwood Hall came in, and
shortly the clerk arrived. There was a whispered conference between
him and the proprietor, and the clerk addressed Tom.
"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."
[missing line]
[missing words] good! [missing words] I'm much obliged to you, and
with a smile of hope our hero hurried from the drug store, followed by
the curious glances of the proprietor and the clerk.