“It’s done,” said Lester.
“Good work. The queerest thing has happened about mine. It’s disappeared absolutely. I’ve turned my room upside down, hunting for it.”
“You must have left it somewhere—in the library, perhaps,” suggested Richard.
“No, I haven’t taken it outside my room. Besides, the rough draft as well as the typewritten copy has vanished. I could have sworn that I left them on my desk last night when I went out. I spent the evening at home, reading to Mr. Dean. It was late when I got back to my room, and I really didn’t notice whether the theme was on my desk then or not. This morning when I looked for it I couldn’t find it. Somebody must have taken it to play a trick on me, but he’d better get it back to me soon.”
“Who would do a thing like that?” asked Richard.
“Oh, it may be some one’s idea of a joke,” replied David.
“Even if it’s lost it won’t make any special difference to you, will it?” asked Lester. “You’re all right in the course?”
“Oh, yes, I’m all right in the course, though I suppose it would probably lower my mark. But the thing is so mysterious—the disappearance of both the rough draft and the typewritten copy!”
“What do you make of it, my dear Wallace?” said Richard, turning to Lester.
“Nothing. It’s queer enough certainly. What was the theme about, Dave?”