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"Oh, well, I'll set the alarm clock, and we'll get up an hour earlier in the morning and floor it," suggested Andy. "Burning the candle at both ends!" protested Dunk, with a sigh. "Ain't I terrible? But lead me to it!" As they went out of Wright Hall, Andy looked across the campus and saw Gaffington, and some of his boon companions, approaching. "Just in time," he murmured.
"I'm counting on it!" When they came back, after a hasty session at the "eating joint," there was a note for each of them tucked under the door, which they had managed to lock pending the attaching of the new mechanism. "From Gaffington," announced Dunk, ripping his open. "He's giving a blow-out to-night. Wants me to come."
"Well, Andy, how do you size it up?" asked Dunk, when Pulter had gone back to his apartment and Andy and his chum sat in their cozy room before a crackling fire. "How do you mean?" asked Andy, to gain time. "Why, about Gaffington having that book. Didn't it look sort of fishy to you?" "It did in a way, yes. But his explanation was very natural. It all might have happened that way."
"Come in!" invited Andy, and he started as Mortimer Gaffington slid in. Andy gave him a quick glance, but either Mortimer was a good actor, or he did not feel his father's loss of money, providing the news Mrs. Blair had sent her son was correct. "Hello, Andy," greeted Gaffington, as he slumped into an easy chair. "Where's Dunk?" "I don't know. Bob Hunter was just in looking for him.
Andy started as he recognized the voice of Gaffington. "Oh Dunk! Are you there?" was called, gleefully. "Yes, I'm here," was the answer, and it sounded to Andy as though his chum was glad to hear that voice. "Come out and have some fun. Bully show at the Hyperion. No end of sport. Come on!" Mortimer, with Clarence Boyle and Len Scott, came around the corner of the corridor, arm in arm.
How Gaffington kept up the pace and still managed to retain his place on the football team was a mystery to many. He had wonderful recuperative powers, though, and was well liked by a certain element. "Hello, Dunk!" he greeted Andy's roommate. "You're looking pretty fit." "Same to you though you look as though you'd been having one." "So I have rather strenuous practice to-day.
"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.
Don't say anything about it, though probably I was wrong. It was decent of Gaffington not to let me lose it all." And Dunk thrust the ten dollar bill into his pocket. It was several days after this when Andy, crossing the quadrangle, saw a familiar figure raking up the leaves on the campus. "What in the world is he doing here if that's him?" he asked himself. "And yet it does look like him."
"Oh, you and Blair off scouting?" asked Gaffington, pausing before the two. "We were going out yes," admitted Dunk. "We'll make a party of it then. Fall in, Blair!" Andy rather objected to the patronizing tone of Mortimer, but he did not feel like resenting it then. Should he go? Dunk glanced at his chum somewhat in doubt. "Will you come, Andy?" he asked, hesitatingly. "Yes I guess so."
One day Hal Pulter, who roomed in Wright Hall, near Dunk and Andy, reported that an expensive reference book had been taken from his room. The usual experience followed, with no result. Then, about a week later, as Andy was walking past the small building at High and Elm streets, where the University Press had its quarters, he came up behind Mortimer Gaffington, who seemed to be studying a book.
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