“Why did you do it, Mortimer?”
“Why? I guess you know as well as I do. Everything is gone—dad’s whole fortune wiped out. We haven’t a dollar, and I had to leave Yale. We kept it quiet as long as we could. I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t bear to!
“Oh, call it what you like—foolish pride perhaps, but I wanted to stay here and finish as I’d begun—with the best of the spenders. That’s what I’ve been—a spender. I couldn’t be otherwise—I was brought up that way. So, when I found I couldn’t get any money any other way I began stealing. I’m not looking for sympathy—I’m telling the plain truth. I took your watch, Dunk. I took those books. I smuggled one into Link Bardon’s room, hoping he’d be suspected. There’s no use in saying I’m sorry. You wouldn’t believe me. It’s all up. You’ve got me right!”
He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
Andy and Dunk felt the lumps rising in their throats. They had to fight back the tears from their eyes. Never before had they taken part in such a grim tragedy—never again did they want to.
“You—you admit all the quadrangle thefts?” faltered Andy.
“Every one,” was the low answer. “I took Carr’s book and silver cup—I hid them in the closet that day you fellows caught me. I took Pulter’s book, too. I was desperate—I’d take anything. I just had to have the money. I took the money Len thought he lost that night in the campus. Well, this is the end.”
“Yes, it’s the end,” said Dunk, softly, “but not for us. We’ve got to think of Yale.”
There was a footstep outside the door. The three started up in some alarm. They were not ready yet for disclosures.
“Beg pardon,” said a calm voice, “but I could not help hearing what was said. Perhaps I can help you.”