Page:The Winning Touchdown.djvu/192

178 Bascome and the letter. "I'm sorry I took you away from your friends," he went on.

"Oh, that's all right. I'd rather have you speak openly like this, than be thinking a lot of queer things. No, I'm out of it. The letter had nothing to do with your clock or chair," and with this denial Bascome turned back toward his own room.

"Good night," he called to Tom; that is, unless you'll join us?"

He paused and looked back.

"No, thank you, I'm going to turn in."

Tom swung around, and was about to proceed down the corridor, when the torn pieces of the letter Bascome had destroyed caught his eye. By this time the other youth had entered his room, before Tom could call to him that perhaps he had better pick up the scraps.

"Oh, well, leave them there," mused Tom. "I guess if he doesn't care whether or not anyone sees them, I oughtn't to."

Slowly he walked along, when a piece of paper, rather larger than the other fragments, was turned over by the draft of his walking. It was directly under a hall light, and Tom could not help seeing the words written on it. They stood out in bold relief—three words—and they were these: