"Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?"

     "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!"

     "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here."

     "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!"

     "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick."

     "You stay here, Huck, till I come."

     Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before.