THE BOOK
Andy and Dunk, who had jumped up and come to the door of their room on
hearing Frank's explanation, stood looking at him for a second, rather
startled by his news. Then Andy, realizing that this might be a chance
to discover who had been carrying on the mysterious quadrangle
robberies, exclaimed:
"Come on down this way! The hall ends just around the corner and there's
no way out. It's a blind alley, and if the fellow went down here we sure
have him!"
"Good for you!" cried Dunk. "Wait until we get something to tackle him
with in case he fights."
"That's so," said Andy. "Here, I'll take our poker, and you can have the
fire tongs, Dunk."
From a brass stand near the fireplace Andy caught up the articles he
mentioned.
"Where's something for me?" asked Frank.
"Here, take the shovel," spoke Dunk passing it over. "Say, what sort of
a fellow was it you saw run out of your room?"
"I didn't have much chance to notice, he went so like a flash."
"Was it--er--one of our fellows--I mean a college man--did he look like
that?" asked Andy. He was conscious of the fact that he had rather
stammered over this. Truth to tell, he feared lest Link might have
yielded to temptation. Since the episode of Dunk's watch Andy had been
doing some hard thinking.
"Well, the fellow did look like a college chap," admitted Frank, "but of
course it couldn't be. No Yale man would be guilty of a thing like
that."
"Of course not!" agreed Dunk. "But say, if we're going to make a capture
we'd better get busy. Are you sure there's no way out from this
corridor, Andy?"
"Sure not. It ends blank. The fellow is surely trapped."
They hurried out into the corridor, and started down it, armed with the
fire irons. Though they had talked rather loudly, and were under
considerable excitement, no attention had been attracted to them. Most
of the rooms on that floor were not occupied just then, and if there
were students in the others they did not come out to see what was taking
place.
"Say, it would be great if we could capture the thief!" said Dunk.
"Yes, and end the quadrangle mystery," added Andy.
"I don't care so much about ending the mystery as I do about getting
back my tennis cup and the book," spoke Frank.
"What sort of a book was it?" Andy inquired.
"A reference work on inorganic chemistry," answered Frank. "Cost me ten
plunks, too. I can't afford to lose it for I need it in my work."
"Some book!" murmured Andy, as the three hastened on.
They tried door after door as they passed, but most of them were locked.
One or two opened to disclose students dressing or shaving, and to the
rather indignant inquiries as to what was wanted, Dunk would exclaim
hastily:
"Oh, we are looking for a fellow--that's all."
"Hazing?" sometimes would be inquired.
"Sort of," Dunk would answer. "No use telling 'em what it is until we've
got something to show," he added to his companions. They agreed with
him.
They had now reached the turn of corridor where a short passage, making
an L, branched off. So far they had seen no trace of the thief.
"There's a big closet, or storeroom, at the end," explained Andy. "The
fellow may be hiding in there."
An examination of the few rooms remaining on this short turn of the
passage did not disclose the youth they sought. All of the doors were
locked.
"He may be hiding in one of them," suggested Dunk.
"If he is all we'll have to do will be to wait down at the other end, if
we don't find him in the store room," spoke Andy. "He'll have to come
out some time, and it's too high up for him to jump."
"It's queer we didn't hear him run past our room," remarked Dunk.
"He had on rubber shoes--that's why," explained Frank. "He went out of
my room like a shadow. At first I didn't realize what it was, but when I
found my stuff had vanished I woke up."
"Rubber shoes, eh?" said Andy. "He's an up-to-date burglar all right."
"Well, let's try the storeroom," suggested Dunk, as they neared it. They
were rather nervous, in spite of the fact that their forces outnumbered
the enemy three to one. With shovel, tongs and poker held in readiness,
they advanced. The door of the big closet was closed, and, just as Andy
was about to put his hand on the knob, the portal swung open, and out
stepped--Mortimer Gaffington.
"Why--er--why--you--you----!" stammered Andy.
"Did you--have you----?" This was what Dunk tried to say.
"Is he in there?" Frank wanted to know.
Mortimer looked coolly at the three.
"I say," he drawled, "what's up? Are you looking for a rat?"
"No, the quadrangle thief!" exclaimed Andy. "He went in Frank's room and
took his book and silver cup, and lit out. Came down here and we're
after him! Have you seen him?"
"No," replied Mortimer, slowly. "I came up here to get Charley Taylor's
mushroom bat. He said he stuck it in here when the season was over, and
he told me I could have it if I could fish it out. I had the dickens of
a time in there, pawing over a lot of old stuff."
"Did you get the bat?" asked Dunk.
"No. I don't believe it's there. If it is I'd have to haul everything
out to get at it. I'm going to give it up."
As he spoke he threw open the closet door. An electric light was burning
inside, and there was revealed to the eyes of Andy and his chums a
confused mass of material. Most of it was of a sporting character, and
belonged to the students on that floor, they using the store room for
the accumulation that could not be crowded into their own apartments.
"A regular junk heap," commented Frank. "But where the mischief did that
fellow go who was in my room?"
"It _is_ sort of queer," admitted Andy, as he looked down. Without
intending to do so he noticed that Mortimer did not wear rubber-soled
shoes, but had on a heavy pair that would have made noise enough down
the corridor had he hurried along the passage.
"Maybe you dreamed it," suggested Mortimer. "I didn't see anything of
anyone coming down here, and I was in that closet some time, rummaging
away."
"Must have been pretty warm in there--with the door closed," suggested
Dunk.
"It was hot. The door swung shut when I was away back in a corner trying
to fish out that bat, and I didn't want to climb back and open it. Well,
I guess I'll go clean up. I'm all dust."
Truth to tell, he was rather disheveled, his clothes being spotted in
several places with dust and cobwebs, while his face and hands were also
soiled.
"Well, I guess he fooled us," commented Andy. "I can't understand it,
though. We came down this hall right after him, and there's no stairway
going up or down from this end. How could he give us the slip?"
"Easily enough," said Mortimer. "He could have slid into some empty
room, locked the door on the inside and waited until you fellows rushed
past. Then he could come out and go down the stairs behind you without
you seeing him."
"That's what he did then, all right," decided Dunk. "We might as well
give it up. Report your loss, Frank."
"Yes, I will. Whew! Another quadrangle robbery to add to the list. I
wonder when this thing will stop?"
No one could answer him. Mortimer switched off the light in the store
room, remarking that he'd have another look for the bat later. Then he
accompanied Andy and the others on their way back down the corridor.
Gaffington departed to his own dormitory, while Frank went to report to
the Dean, and Andy and Dunk turned into their room.
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Andy.
"I don't know," responded his roommate. "Mortimer's explanation seems to
cover it."
"All the same we'll leave our door open, on the chance that the thief
may still be hiding in some empty room, and will try to sneak out,"
suggested Andy.
"Sure, that's good enough."
But, though they watched for some time, no one came down the corridor
past their room but the regular students.
And so the theft of the book and silver cup passed into history with the
other mysteries. Further search was made, and the private detective
agency, that had been engaged by the Dean, sent some active men scouting
around, but nothing came of it.
The Christmas vacation was at hand and Andy went home to spend it in
Dunmore. Chet, Ben and his other school chums were on hand, and as Andy
remarked concerning the occasion, "a jolly time was had by all."
Chet and Ben were with Andy most of the time, and when Andy told of the
doings at Yale, Chet responded with an account of the fun at Harvard,
while Ben related the doings of the Jersey Tiger.
Andy's second term at Yale began early in the new year, and he arrived
in New Haven during a driving snow storm. He went at once to his room,
where he found a note from Dunk, who had come in shortly before.
"Come over to the eating joint," the missive read, and Andy, stowing
away his bag, headed for the place.
"Over in here!"
"Shove in, plenty of room!"
"Oh, you, Andy Blair!"
"Happy New Year!"
Thus was he greeted and thus he greeted in turn. Then, amid laughter and
talk, and the rattle of knives and forks, acquaintanceship and
friendship were renewed. Andy was beginning to feel like a seasoned Yale
man now.
The studies of the second term were of increasing difficulty, and Andy
and Dunk found they had to buckle down to steady work. But they had
counted on this.
Still they found time for fun and jollity and spent many a pleasant
evening in company with their other friends. Once or twice Mortimer and
his cronies tried to get Dunk to spend the night with them, but he
refused; or, if he did go, he took Andy with him, and the two always
came home early, and with clear heads.
"They're a pair of quitters!" said Len Scott, in disgust, after one
occasion of this kind. "What do you want to bother with 'em for, Mort?"
"That's what I say," added Clarence Boyle.
"Oh, well, I may have my reasons," returned Mortimer, loftily. "Dunk
would be a good sort if he wasn't tied fast to Andy. I can't get along
with him, though."
"Me either," added Len. "He's too goody-goody." Which was somewhat
unjust to Andy.
The winter slowly wore on. Now and then there would be another of the
mysterious robberies, and on nearly every occasion the article taken was
of considerable value--jewelry, sporting trophies or expensive books.
There was suspicion of many persons, but not enough to warrant an
arrest.
One day Hal Pulter, who roomed in Wright Hall, near Dunk and Andy,
reported that an expensive reference book had been taken from his room.
The usual experience followed, with no result.
Then, about a week later, as Andy was walking past the small building at
High and Elm streets, where the University Press had its quarters, he
came up behind Mortimer Gaffington, who seemed to be studying a book.
Andy wondered somewhat at Mortimer's application, particularly as it was
snowing at the time. This enabled Andy to come close up behind
Gaffington without the latter being aware of it, and, looking over the
shoulder of the youth, Andy saw on the fly-leaf of the volume a peculiar
ink blot.
At once a flash of recollection came to Andy. Well did he know that ink
blot, for he had made it himself.
"Why, that's Pulter's book!" he exclaimed, speaking aloud
involuntarily. "Where did you get it?"
Mortimer turned quickly and faced Andy.
"What's that?" he asked, sharply.
"I say that's Pulter's book," Andy went on.
"How do you know?" asked Mortimer.
"Why, by that big ink blot. I made it. Pulter was in our room with the
book just before it was stolen, and my fountain pen leaked on it. That
sure is Pulter's book. Where did you get it? That's the one he made such
a fuss about!"