escape them. It was a plain white envelope, and was sealed.
"That throws some light on the mystery, and bears out my suspicion," went on Tom.
"What light?" asked Sid.
"And what suspicion?" demanded Phil.
"The suspicion that Langridge has had a hand in this mystery, and that Bert Bascome has been in our room since we last left it. That letter wasn't here when we went out, I'm sure of that, so Bascome must have dropped it when he brought back the clock."
"Brought back the clock!" cried Phil. "Do you mean to say he took it—and the chair?"
"I don't know that I do, but either he or Langridge had a hand in it," asserted Tom, positively. "Langridge probably put Bascome up to it, to annoy us. You know Bascome and that bully were quite thick with each other before Langridge was forced to leave."
"But this letter isn't in the handwriting of Langridge, Tom," objected Sid. "I know his fist well enough."
"That's right," agreed Phil. "But I can tell you who did write this."
"Who?" demanded Tom and Sid, in a breath.
"Henry Lenton," was the quiet reply.
"What, the fellow you suspected of making the false key?" cried Tom, in startled tones.
