In the first place, I visited the haunted house yesterday
morning, and went through it from cellar to garret."
"Alone?" queried Sam.
"Yes, alone. But I carried a pistol, and I had it ready for use, too."
"I don't blame you," murmured Dick. "And I guess you looked to see if
the doors were open, too."
"I did, and smashed out several windows in the bargain. The first
place I investigated was that fireplace, and in it I found this." And
Tom held up a bit of white paper. On it was printed:
m B. Schlemp
uggist.
ain St.
"That is from a druggist," said Dick.
"Exactly. I figure out the name is William B. Schlemp, that he is
a druggist, and that he is doing business at some number on Main
Street," came from Tom. "But I figure out more than that."
"What?"
"The paper was crumpled up, and had in it a few grains of a gray
powder. I set the powder on fire and got that strange vapor that
almost strangled us."
"You did!" cried Sam. "Then that stuff came from that druggist beyond
a doubt."
"So I figure it. But there is no druggist named Schlemp here," went on
Tom, "and the druggist here doesn't know of such a fellow."
"I know what we can do," cried Dick. "Don't you remember, Dan Baxter
said he had worked for a wholesale drug house? We can telegraph and
ask him if he knows of this Schlemp."
"Then let us do it at once," said Tom. "I have his route--the one he
said he was to follow.
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