to say:

"No, I'm going to deny nothing. You have caught me. I own up. What are
you going to do about it?"

"That's just it," said Dunk. "We don't know what to do about it."

Silently Mortimer began taking from his pockets several pieces of
jewelry, evidently the things he had stolen from the rooms of other
students.

"That's all I have," he said, bitterly.

Andy and Dunk looked at him a moment without speaking and then Andy
asked:

"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."

Andy swung open the door wider, and saw, standing in the hall, a man he
recognized as one taking a post-graduate course in the Medical School.
He was Nathan Conklin, and had taken a room in the freshman dormitory
because no other was available just at that time.

"Do you