“Cannot you trace where the drug went to, Tom?”

“That might be possible, although a good many people saw and heard of it while our firm handled it.”

“Was any of it sold or used in the vicinity of Sidham?”

“No, but—­” The young commercial traveler stopped short.  “I think—­But no, it can’t be.  And yet—­”

“What, Tom?” she asked eagerly.

He shook his head.  “What’s the use?  It would only drag me into the mud deeper.  I really can’t see what’s to do,” he went on with something of anguish in his tones.

“I am certain the very best thing you can do is to go to Uncle Adam and tell him everything.  He will help you and clear up this great mystery.”

“But he is working for Margaret.”

“Yes, but I know he will work for you—­after he has heard your story.  But you must tell him everything.”

“Where is he now?”

“Somewhere around your mother’s home, or in Sidham, I think.  I can find out for you,”

“Very well, I will go to him and ask him if he is willing to side with me as well as with Margaret.  But watt, I think I’ll go and see Margaret first.  You can send word to Mr. Adams that I want to see him.  Tell him I will be at the Beechwood Hotel.  He can send me a message there.  Tell him I can clear up some points which may seem queer to him.”

“I will, Tom,” Letty looked much relieved.  “Oh, I am sure he will help you!  He has never yet failed to accomplish anything he has undertaken!”

An hour later saw Tom Ostrello on his way to Sidham.  His face was careworn and he looked to be ten years older than he had a week before.  He was in a thoughtful mood and scarcely looked out of the car window as the train rushed onward to its destination.

Arriving at the town, he speedily learned that Margaret had been taken to the home of Martha Sampson and was said to be in a serious if not dangerous state.  This caused him to halt, and he was half inclined to give up the idea of interviewing her,

“It will only make her condition worse,” he mused.  “And, poor girl, she seems to have suffered more than her share already.  Perhaps I had better wait until I hear from Adam Adams.”

But then he determined to learn exactly how she was, anyway, and turned his footsteps toward the cottage, which stood on a side street of the town, backed up by a patch of woods leading to the river.  He was just in sight of the place when he heard a cry, and a man came running out of the cottage, followed by a woman and a policeman.

“Where is she?  Where is she?” cried the man, and Tom Ostrello recognized Raymond Case.

“Hullo!  What’s up?” queried the commercial traveler.

“Margaret!  She is gone!” cried Raymond.  He ran back of the house.  “I can’t see anything of her!” he added with a groan.

“Margaret gone?  I thought she was sick.”

“So she is.  She was out of her mind and slipped out of her room while the nurse went downstairs for some broth.  I was in the parlor writing a letter.”