“What does this mean? You fellows sure have your nerve with you! Let me go, or I’ll——”
Mortimer stormed and raved, struggling to get loose from the grip of Andy and Dunk.
“I’ll make you fellows sweat for this!” he cried “I’ll fix you! I—I’ll——”
“You’d better keep quiet, if you know what’s best for you,” panted Andy. “We hate this business as much as you ever can, Gaffington! Don’t let the whole college know about it. Keep quiet, for the honor of Yale whose name you’ve disgraced. Keep quiet, for we’ve got the goods on you and the jig is up!”
It was a tense moment, and Andy might well be pardoned for speaking a bit theatrically. Truth to tell he hardly knew what he was saying.
“Yes, take it easy, Gaffington,” advised Dunk. “We don’t want to make a holiday of this affair; but you’re at the end of your rope and the sooner you know it the better. We’ve caught you. Take it easy and we’ll be as easy as we can.”
“Caught me! What do you mean?” asked the unfortunate lad excitedly. “Can’t I come to your room to borrow a book without being jumped on as if I——”
“Exactly! As though you were the thief that you are!” said Andy, bitterly. “What does this mean?”
With a quick motion, letting go of one of Mortimer’s wrists, Andy reached into the other’s pocket and pulled out the bills. “They’re marked with our initials,” he said, and his voice was sad, rather than triumphant. “We left them there to see if you’d take them.”
The production of the bills took all the fight out of Mortimer Gaffington. He ceased his struggling and sank limply into a chair which Dunk pushed forward for him.