THE CUP DISAPPEARS
“Then you’ve got it in your hand,” said Gerald untroubledly and without
turning.
“I haven’t! I tell you it isn’t here!”
“Not there!” Gerald turned and stared at the table and from the table
to Dan’s hands and from thence to his face. “But――why, I put it there
not two hours ago!”
“Are you sure?” Dan looked about the room. “Didn’t you tuck it away in
a drawer somewhere?”
“No, I took it out of the bag and put it right here on the table.”
Gerald placed his hand on the spot. “And then I went over there to the
radiator and warmed my hands and feet and looked at it.”
“Well, it’s mighty funny,” grumbled Dan. “You’d better look in your
bureau, Gerald.”
“But I tell you I left it there, Dan!” Nevertheless Gerald opened the
drawers one after the other and peeked in. “It was there when I went
out. I didn’t touch it after I took it out of the bag.”
“What did you do with the bag?” asked Dan, making an unsuccessful
search among the cushions of the window seat.
“Tossed it on the table. Isn’t it there?”
“Not a sign of it.” Dan thrust his hands in his pockets and frowned
across at his roommate. “Look here, chum, this is sort of peculiar. Are
you certain you went for it?”
“Am I certain――” began Gerald exasperatedly. “Don’t be silly, Dan! Of
course, I’m certain. I’m not likely to forget it, for I almost froze
coming home.”
“You didn’t drop it on the way? Or leave it anywhere?”
“I brought it up here and put it on the table there,” answered Gerald
decidedly and a trifle impatiently. “Some one has taken and hidden it;
that’s all there is to it; and I think it’s a pretty poor joke.”
“Was anyone with you?”
“No, I was alone. Let’s look around the room. Some fellow must have
stuck it away somewhere.”
“I don’t see who could have done that,” answered Dan. “I don’t believe
anyone has been in here this afternoon except you.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” answered Gerald crossly. “I know I
left it there and now it’s gone. Look under your bed, Dan.”
They searched the room thoroughly, looked under the beds and the window
seat and the chiffoniers, peered into the dark corners of the closets,
pulled things off the shelves, investigated the mattresses and, in
short, turned the place upside down. Then they sat down and stared at
each other.
“Well, it beats me,” said Dan hopelessly. “All I can think is that you
imagined it, Gerald.”
“I didn’t imagine it, I tell you! Did you look thoroughly in your
bureau?”
“Yes,” Dan replied, but went back to it and took everything out of
the drawers, and Gerald did the same with his belongings. Then they
lifted photograph frames and looked behind the radiator and searched
in equally impossible places. Finally Dan sank into a chair and Gerald
subsided on his bed.
“It isn’t in this room,” said Dan decidedly. “Either you imagined that
you brought it up here, Gerald, or some one has been in and taken it
away.”
“Then some one has taken it,” said Gerald decisively. “Do you suppose
Tom could have come in and seen it and taken it over to Dudley?”
Dan’s face cleared.
“I’ll bet that’s just what happened,” he said. “We’ll stop there when
we go to supper and find out. It couldn’t have been anyone but Tom. Alf
was at hockey and no one else would have any right to touch it. Let’s
wash up and run over there.”
“I don’t suppose anyone would steal it,” said Gerald half questioningly.
“Steal it! Of course not! No one ever gets up here but the fellows and
the chambermaids and the faculty. Besides, it isn’t likely that a thief
would have taken the bag too.”
“No, that’s so,” Gerald agreed. “I guess Tom found it and thought Alf
wanted it over there.”
But that theory was short-lived. When they reached 7 Dudley they found
Tom and Alf just leaving the room to go to commons for supper.
“Say, Tom, did you burglarize our room this afternoon?” asked Dan.
“If I did I’ll bet I didn’t get much,” was the answer. “Why?”
“Didn’t you get the cup?”
“The cup? What cup are you talking about?”
“The hockey cup. Quit fooling, Tom. You took it, didn’t you?”
Tom saw by the earnest look on Dan’s face that that youth was not
joking and so he answered seriously:
“I haven’t been near your room to-day, Dan. What’s up?”
“Why, Gerald says he brought the hockey cup home from Greenburg and put
it on the table and left it there when he went to practice. It isn’t
there now and we’ve searched high and low for it.”
“That’s a funny game,” said Alf anxiously. “Is that straight, Dan?”
“Yes. The only thing I could think of was that Tom had happened in and
taken it over here.”
“Have you looked everywhere in the room?”
“Rather! The place looks like a pigsty; we’ve pulled everything out of
the drawers and even looked under the mattresses. Oh, it isn’t there,
Alf. Some one, I don’t know who, has taken it out of that room. I
suppose they’ve done it for a joke, but if I catch them I’ll show them
who the joke is on.”
“Well, let’s go over to supper. Afterwards we’ll go up to your room and
see if we can’t find it.”
“You’re welcome to look,” said Dan impatiently, “but I tell you it
isn’t there.”
“Perhaps whoever swiped it will bring it back by that time,” said Tom
cheerfully. “I guess some fresh chump saw it and thought he’d have some
fun with you fellows.”
“I’d like to be there when he returned it,” growled Dan, as they
hurried across to Whitson and supper.
Half an hour later they climbed the stairs to 28. They all more than
half expected to see the silver trophy standing on the table when Dan
threw the door open. But it wasn’t there. Alf made the other three sit
down and himself began a systematic search of the premises. At the end
of ten minutes, however, he was forced to agree with Dan and Gerald.
The Pennimore Cup was not in 28 Dudley, wherever it might be. Dan sat
down and took one knee into his hands.
“Now let’s get at this thing,” he said. “Tell us just what happened
after you got to Proctor’s store, Gerald.”
“I gave him your note and told him I’d come to take the cup back. He
went to the window and got it and put it in the flannel bag. I took it
and walked home with it and when I got up here――――”
“Wait a minute,” Alf interrupted. “Didn’t you say you stopped and got a
hot chocolate somewhere?”
“No, I said I wanted to, but I was afraid that if I went into Wallace’s
he would recognize me and make a fuss about his broken glasses.”
“So you didn’t stop anywhere after you left Proctor’s?”
“No, not until I got to the bridge.”
“The river bridge? Why did you stop there?”
“Because Harry Merrow called to me. He and some other chaps were
skating just above the bridge.”
“What did he want?” asked Alf.
“He asked if I was going to skate. He thought the bag was a skate bag,
you see. I told him I had the cup in it.”
“Then what?”
“Then,” continued Gerald, trying hard to recall the conversation, “he
asked me to go and get my skates and said the ice was fine. I said I
had to report for hockey practice. He asked if I expected to make the
team and I said not this year. And then I was cold and came on home.”
“What did you do with the cup while you were talking?”
“I kept it under my arm.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t set it down anywhere――say, on the top of the
bridge girder?”
“No, it was under my arm all the time.”
“All right. You brought it straight up here. Didn’t stop anywhere else
first?”
“No, I came right up to the room and took the cup out of the bag and
put it there. And I tossed the bag about here. Then I went over to the
radiator and stood there about ten minutes, I guess, getting my feet
and hands warm. And I was looking at the cup and wondering if we would
win it. I remember thinking that if Broadwood got it for keeps I’d have
dad present another one.”
“Good idea, Gerald. Then what happened?”
“Then I remembered that I’d have to hurry to get to practice on time,
and so I――――”
“Picked up the cup and put it away. Where did you put it?”
“I didn’t touch it, Alf! I just left it where it was and went over to
the gym.”
“Did you close the door as you went out?” asked Tom.
“I――I think so. I’m not sure. I was in a hurry, you know.”
“You don’t remember hearing it close behind you?”
“N-no, I don’t. But I’m sure I _almost_ closed it, Tom.”
Tom arose and went into the hall, leaving the door some six inches
ajar. Then he returned and opened it wider, and finally he came back,
closing it behind him.
“The door would have to be almost half open,” he reported, “for anyone
in the corridor to be able to see the cup where Gerald put it. You’re
sure you didn’t leave it that far open, Gerald?”
“Positive,” was the reply. “I may not have latched it, but――――”
“Hold on a minute,” Dan interrupted. “The window at the end of the
corridor was open at the top this afternoon. I remember that because it
was so blamed cold when we came up before supper.”
“What do you mean?” asked Alf. “That some one might have got in that
window?”
“Of course not! I mean that if there was a draft in the hall this door
might have blown open if Gerald didn’t latch it as he went out.”
“That’s so. How was it when you came back?”
“Closed,” answered Dan promptly.
“Shut tight,” agreed Gerald.
“Looks, then, as though some one might have been in,” said Tom.
“Great Scott!” said Dan. “There’s no question about that, Tom. Gerald
is sure he left the cup here on the table and now it’s gone. Some one
came in, all right enough, but who was it?”
“Who is this Merrow chap?” asked Tom. “Is he the youngster that rooms
with Arthur Thompson, Gerald?”
“Yes,” answered Gerald.
“You remember Merrow,” said Alf impatiently, “the kid that Gerald and
Thompson pulled out of Marsh Lake last spring?”
“Oh, yes. Well, he isn’t the sort to try a joke like this, is he? You
see, he seems to be the only one that knew Gerald had the cup.”
“Not the only one,” said Gerald. “There were six or seven other fellows
around there; Craig and Milton and――and Bicknell; I don’t remember the
rest; two or three of them I didn’t know. And Hiltz was there, too,
only he was farther away.”
“Hiltz!” said Dan.
“Hiltz,” murmured Alf. The three exchanged questioning glances.
“Was he near enough to hear what you and Merrow were saying?” asked
Dan. Gerald considered.
“I don’t believe so. He might have heard, though. You know voices sound
pretty plain on the ice.”
“How far was he from where you were?”
“About seventy-five or eighty feet, I think.”
“Was he nearer than that to Merrow?”
“Oh, yes, Merrow was about twenty feet from the bridge. Hiltz was
sitting on the bank at the right. I suppose he was fifty feet from
Harry.”
“What do you think?” asked Alf, turning to Dan. Dan shook his head in a
puzzled way.
“I don’t know,” he said. “He might have. Maybe he thought it would be
a good way to get even with the three of us at one fell swoop. By the
way, where does he live?”
“In Whitson; second floor,” answered Tom. “I don’t know his number,
though.”
“If we could find out what he did after Gerald left him,” muttered Dan.
“Harry Merrow might know how long he was on the ice.”
“Yes, but he might have come in here any time during the two hours from
three to five.”
“Yes, but if he meant to swipe the cup he would have done it while he
was certain that both Gerald and I were at hockey practice, and he
would probably have done it early in the afternoon.”
“It wouldn’t have been a hard thing to do,” said Tom. “He knew you were
both on the ice, there aren’t many fellows around at half past three,
say, and on a cold day like this most every fellow that is at home
keeps his door closed. He might have walked in here, taken the cup, put
it under his coat and walked out again, and no one would have seen him.”
“Suppose he did,” said Alf. “What do you think he would do with it?
Hide it in his room?”
“Not likely, I guess,” answered Tom, “but still he might. There are
plenty of places around the school he might have put it. If we were
only certain he had taken it――――”
“That’s the trouble,” growled Alf. “We can’t go to him and say, ‘Hiltz
you stole the Pennimore Cup out of Dan’s room this afternoon and we
want it back!’ After all, I don’t believe Hiltz is a thief.”
“I don’t suppose he is,” said Dan, “and he probably wouldn’t call it
thieving. If he has taken it he’s done it just to make trouble for
us and with no idea of keeping the cup himself. Probably he means to
return it before the game, or leave it where it will be found.”
“It’s just the same as stealing,” exclaimed Gerald angrily, “and I’ll
bet he did it! He knew I had it and he hates me like poison since I
beat him in the cross-country, and more since I got into Cambridge. And
he hates Dan for defeating him at the election.”
“Well, I’m inclined to think you’re right, Gerald,” said Alf. “But the
question before the meeting is: What are we going to do? We’ve got
to get hold of that cup before the game on Saturday, and to-morrow’s
Friday. We’d look like a pretty lot of idiots if we had to tell
Broadwood that we’d lost the cup! I wish we hadn’t gone and exhibited
it in Proctor’s window.”
“Oh, we’ve got to get hold of it before Saturday,” said Dan. “What
we’d better do, I guess, is to report it to Mr. Collins. On the face
of it it’s a plain case of theft, and we’re not supposed to have any
suspicions of Jake Hiltz.”
“That’s so, I guess,” agreed Alf. “Perhaps Collins can scare whoever
took it into giving it back. Anyhow, I’ve got to go home and study.
Suppose you and Gerald come over after study hour and we’ll find
Collins and put it up to him.”
“All right,” Dan agreed. “But I would like to know where Hiltz spent
his afternoon!”