ith 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.

"Well, what can they do that hasn't already been done?" asked Dunk.
"They may make a search of every fellow's room. I wish they'd come here.
Maybe they'd find that my watch, after all, has hidden itself away
somewhere instead of being taken."

"They're welcome if they want to look here," said Andy. "But I don't
believe they'll do that. They'll probably get a real detective now."

And that was what the Dean did. He disliked very much to call in the
public police, but the loss of the rare books was too serious a theft to
pass over with the hiring of a private detective.

Just what was done was not disclosed, but it leaked out that a close
watch was being kept on all the employees at Yale, and suspicion, it was
said, had narrowed down to one or two.

One day Link called on Andy to pay back the money he had borrowed.

"There's no hurry," said Andy. "I don't need it."

"Oh, I want to pay it back," said the young farmer. "I have plenty of
cash now," and he exhibited quite a roll of bills.

"Been drawing your salary?" asked Andy, with a laugh.

"No, this is a little windfall that came to me," was the answer.

"A windfall? Did someone die and leave you a fortune?"

"No, not exactly. It came to me in a curious way. I got it through the
mail, and there wasn't a word of explanation with it. Just the bill
folded in a letter. A hundred-dollar bill, it was, but I had it
changed."

"Do you mean someone sent you a hundred dollars, an