“And be sure you do lock,” warned Andy. “I don’t want to lose any more stuff. Say, Mortimer must have my sleeve links, all right.”
“All wrong, you mean. And my watch, too! I wonder if we’re on the verge of a discovery?”
“It looks so,” said Andy, grimly.
Quickly and silently they went to the storeroom. They were not disturbed, for there were several class dinners on that night, and most of the occupants of Wright Hall were out. Andy and Dunk intended going later.
They rummaged in the closet and, when about to give up, not having found what they sought, Andy unearthed a pair of rubbers.
“These might be what the fellow wore,” said Dunk, as he looked at them. “He could easily have slipped them off. See if there are any marks inside.”
Andy looked and uttered a startled cry. For there, on the inner canvas of the rubber, printed in ink, were the initials “M. G.”
“They’re his, all right!” spoke Andy, in a low tone.
“Then he’s the quadrangle thief,” went on Dunk. “Come on back to our room, and we’ll talk this over. Something’s has got to be done.”
“That’s right,” agreed Andy. “But what?”