CHAPTER XXIX
THE ACCUSATION
“Pulter’s book, eh?” murmured Mortimer, slowly, as he turned it about, looking on the front and back blank pages.
“It sure is,” went on Andy, eagerly. “I’d know that ink blot anywhere. Pulter let out a howl like an Indian when my pen leaked on his book. The blot looks like a Chinese laundryman turned upside down.”
“That’s right,” agreed Mortimer. “Queer, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” went on Andy, his curiosity growing. “Where did you get it?”
“Found it,” spoke the rich lad, quickly. “I went out to the new Yale Field to see how the stadium was coming on, and I saw this under a clump of bushes. I knew it was a valuable book, so I brought it back with me. It hasn’t got Pulter’s name in it, though.”
“No,” went on Andy. “His name was on the other front leaf. That was worse blotted with the ink than this one, and he tore it out. But I’m sure that’s Pulter’s book.”