"That's the chap. He wrote this letter to Bascome; I'm sure of it."
"Then those two are in the game against us!" came from Sid. "Oh, say, this is getting more puzzling than ever! What can we do about it—Langridge—Bascome—Lenton—who's guilty—who had our clock?"
"I'm going to find out one thing!" declared Tom, with energy.
"What's that?" asked Phil, as his chum arose and strode toward the door.
"I'm going to give Bascome this letter, and find out what he was doing in our room."
"You may make trouble," warned Phil.
"I don't care if I do! I'm going to get to the bottom of this," and holding the envelope as if it might somehow get away from him, Tom strode from the apartment, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, while back in the room his chums listened to the ticking of the clock that formed a link in the curious mystery.
