“Ah, this is like old times!” exclaimed Ray with genuine satisfaction, as he sunk back into the large easy chair that stood by the hearth in his front room.
“Yes,” I answered. “It seems months since we were in these rooms before. They appear to have been well cared for; no dust anywhere.”
“Oh, I told the janitor I was going to return this evening, so he was in here during the morning cleaning. Now let us light up the gas and make ourselves comfortable.”
Ray scratched a match, and lit every burner in the room. “An illumination in honor of our return,” he called out, while I put down the parcels I had carried over for Ray, and dropped on the sofa, stretching myself out at ease.
At dinner Ray had asked me to help him to get a few of his things over from the room we had occupied, as he was anxious to take possession of his old apartments without delay. Accordingly we gathered his necessities together, and brought them with us on our way back to Fred Harrison’s room, where we expected to find Tony.
We discovered, however, that Harrison’s roommate had come in during our absence, and had relieved Tony, who had gone away shortly before we arrived. We found Fred resting quietly, and, though still suffering some pain, much improved in condition. He seemed greatly distressed when he saw us, and in a broken and almost tearful voice confessed having taken brandy before the game, and condemned himself for his folly in unmeasured terms.
The sorry exhibition he had made of himself, and the injury he had sustained, affected him but little. These he regarded as but the natural consequents of his foolish act, which he fully deserved; but that the college should have suffered so humiliating a defeat through his weakness grieved him most, and he could find no words of self reproach severe enough. We comforted him as best we could, and then left him with the promise that we would call the next morning.
“And now,” said Ray, as he drew the heavy curtains to, “I could almost feel reconciled even to our absurd defeat, it is so pleasant to get back here again. We can lie off and look at the matter calmly and comfortably.” Here he resumed his chair.
“Comfortably, I own, but scarcely calmly yet,” I answered. “I am already suffering in anticipation, under the reproachful looks of the students. We will have to face them all to-morrow, and, for my part, I must say I am scarcely equal to the ordeal.”
“Oh, pshaw! I don’t mind that,” said Ray. “Besides, I think you exaggerate the matter. I don’t think the fellows will make us feel uncomfortable. We did our level best and they know it. They know as well as we do what lost us the game; and, in view of his hard luck, they will treat poor Fred with the utmost indulgence.”
“But just think of our condition now. Our chances for the championship are lost. This defeat is a damper from which we are not likely to recover during the whole season. I don’t see how you can look at that calmly,” I said, with some show of impatience.
“Well,” rejoined Ray, with a smile, “I must be brutal enough to say that I do. Perhaps you are right about the championship. The prospects are certainly not encouraging now, but I still hold the conviction that we can beat Park College, and there will be infinite satisfaction to me in that.”
“What change of positions on the nine have you in mind?” I asked.
“I’d put Harold Pratt on first base,” said Ray. “He is tall and has a long reach. Then, for a new third baseman, I should choose Percy Randall by all means.”
“Haven’t you had enough of Percy Randall?” I asked with a smile.
“In one way, yes, quite enough,” answered Ray, “but on the nine and under my control, I think he would make an excellent man.”
“I agree with you,” I said, after a moment’s consideration. “The man isn’t born who could rattle Percy Randall.”
“I suppose he will be glad enough to play,” observed Ray.
“Glad!” I answered. “He will never cease to thank us for another opportunity to get even with those Park men. He will play like a young tiger.”
“I think the best thing we can do then is to notify him at once,” said Ray. “I have some of the letter heads of the Baseball Association in my desk. I will write without delay and tell him to be on hand Monday noon for practice.”
Ray rose, and went to the roll top desk which stood near one of the windows. Taking his key from his pocket, he fitted one into the lock and tried to turn it. It caught in some way and would not move. Pressing on the sliding top, the desk, to his surprise, opened readily.
“Why, it is unlocked!” he exclaimed. “That is very curious. I am very sure that I locked it when I left two weeks ago, and nobody—why, confound it! What is all this?”
I got up hastily and joined him.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
“Matter enough. Look at the confusion here—the ink bottle upset all over a lot of my papers, and everything turned topsy turvy. Oh, this is simply exasperating! I put everything away with scrupulous care in this desk. There are papers here that I wouldn’t have touched for anything. I suppose that stupid old janitor has upset things in moving the desk.”
“But why was it unlocked?” I asked anxiously.
“I haven’t the least idea. I am sure I did not leave it so, for I kept valuable things here. In this drawer I kept my bank deposit book.”
Ray opened the drawer as he spoke. It was perfectly empty. He looked at me in speechless astonishment as he fumbled about in the vacant drawer.
“Why, the old thief,” he burst out angrily, “he must have been robbing me this morning. Here, wait a minute, I’ll find out about this,” and Ray dashed out into the hall.
In about ten minutes he returned with a puzzled and bewildered expression on his face.
“Learn anything?” I asked.
Ray shook his head.
“I am further off than before. Old Jarvis swears that he hasn’t been in the room,” he said.
“But I thought you said he had been cleaning up here this morning,” I remarked wonderingly.
“So I believed, but he tells me that Ridley was the only one who came in, and that he spent not more than fifteen minutes here, dusting around a little. Ridley says that he tried to open the desk in order to clean it out, but found it locked.”
“Then it was locked this morning?”
“If they say what is true. I don’t know whether to believe them or not, appearances are so bad.”
“I can hardly believe that either Ridley or old Jarvis would steal in that way,” I said.
“I hate to think so, but what other solution is there? They certainly did not act or speak as if they had done it. Both of them were badly worried over it, but they seemed to be innocent. I told them that the thief could be traced by the bank book.”
“That is no severe loss,” I said, “for you can advise the bank about the matter without delay, and they will watch out for the fellow that took it.”
“No, that does not make me uneasy,” answered Ray. “It is the doubt about the thief that troubles me. I wonder whether he disturbed anything else.”
Ray took out a match and entered the adjoining room. Scarcely a second had passed after he disappeared from view, when there came a sharp, quick cry, then a succession of harsh exclamations, the rapid shuffling of feet, and the sounds of a fierce struggle. It lasted but a moment, and before I had time to realize the situation, and hurry to Ray’s assistance, before I had half reached the door, Ray emerged from the darkness of the other room, panting heavily, and dragging by the neck a crouching, struggling fellow who was fighting hard to shake himself loose.
We seized him roughly, and together threw him upon the sofa, Ray putting one hand upon his breast.
Then for the first time the full light of the gas fell on the face of our captive. It was Len Howard.