“Give it up.  If he would only tell a fellow,” and Bert stalked about the room in something of a rage against his absent chum.

“While I don’t for a second believe Tom had anything to do with this business,” went on Jack, “it’s up to us, as his friends, to look the thing squarely in the face.”

“Yes, I suppose so.  But what do you mean?”

“I mean we ought to consider the evidence against him as well as in his favor.”

“I suppose so.  Well, what’s the worst?”

“There are some things we know, that other people don’t know,” said Jack slowly.  “For instance, we know he was out on the night the hay stacks burned.”

“Yes, that’s right,” admitted Bert.

“And he came in, smelling horribly of smoke.”

“So he did, but the hay wasn’t ablaze until long after he was in, Jack.”

“Hay would smoulder a long time.  Mind!” Jack added quickly, “I’m not for a minute hinting that Tom did it.  I’m only considering what his enemies would say.”

“That’s right.  Well, what else?”

“Well, he was out on the night the horses were poisoned, and he wore that horribly-colored sweater.  I don’t see what possessed him to buy such a scream of a thing.”

“Me either.”

“He went out with it,” went on Jack slowly, “and he came in without it.”

“By Jove!  So he did!” cried Bert.  “I’d forgotten about that.  It begins to look bad.”

“Not at all!” cried Jack quickly.  “I’m only considering a possible case, mind you.  And there’s one other point.”

“Out with it.  We might as well have the worst and then we can begin to work to help him.”

“Well, you know that day we came in, and found him doing some experiments?”

“Yes.   He was monkeying with------”

“Cyanide,” broke in Jack.  “The very stuff the horses were poisoned with.”

“So he was!” whispered Bert In tense tones.  “But for the love of heaven don’t tell anyone!”

“No danger.  I’m only saying this to show how bad it might be made to look for Tom in case anyone put all these things together.”

“But no one will.”

“I hope not.  And now let’s see how we can help him.”

“Say, what about the school pin?” asked Bert.  “Have you really lost yours?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then why------”

“It’s this way,” went on Jack.  “I saw that Tom’s was gone, and, fearing that it might look bad for him, I pretended it was a common thing for us to lose or mislay our emblems.”

“You did?”

“Sure.  I wasn’t going to make it look too bad for Tom.”

“That’s right.  But are you going to mention it to him?”

“I am not—­not until this thing is cleared up, anyhow.”

“Jove!  It looks bad!” murmured Bert.

The two chums talked the matter over from several different standpoints, and the only conclusion they arrived at was that unless Tom gave them more information as to who, if anyone other than himself, wore the sweater on the night in question, they could do nothing.