“What! You don’t mean you believe Gaffington is the quadrangle thief!” exclaimed Andy, in surprise.
“I don’t believe it, exactly, no. If he’s rich, as you say, certainly he wouldn’t run the risk for the comparatively few dollars he could get out of the thefts. But I will admit that this book business did make me suspicious.”
“Oh, forget it,” advised Andy, with a laugh. “I don’t like Gaffington, and I never did, but I don’t believe that of him.”
“Oh, well, I dare say I’m wrong. It was only a theory.”
“I would like to know who’s doing all this business, though,” went on Andy.
“It’s probably some of the hired help they have around here,” suggested Dunk. “They can’t investigate the character of all the men and women employed in the kitchens, the dormitories and around the grounds.”
“No, that’s right. I only hope my friend Link doesn’t fall under suspicion.”
For a week or so after this, matters went on quietly at Yale. There were no further thefts and the authorities had begun to hope there would be no more. They had about given up the hope of solving the mystery of those already committed.
Then came a sensation. Some very valuable books were taken one night from Chittenden Hall—rare volumes worth considerable money. The next morning there was much excitement when the fact became known.
“Now something will be done!” predicted Andy.