s, but not enough to warrant an
arrest.

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.

Andy wondered somewhat at Mortimer's application, particularly as it was
snowing at the time. This enabled Andy to come close up behind
Gaffington without the latter being aware of it, and, looking over the
shoulder of the youth, Andy saw on the fly-leaf of the volume a peculiar
ink blot.

At once a flash of recollection came to Andy. Well did he know that ink
blot, for he had made it himself.

"Why, that's Pulter's book!" he exclaimed, speaking aloud
involuntarily. "Where did you get it?"

Mortimer turned quickly and faced Andy.

"What's that?" he asked, sharply.

"I say that's Pulter's book," Andy went on.

"How do you know?" asked Mortimer.

"Why, by that big ink blot. I made it. Pulter was in our room with the
book just before it was stolen, and my fountain pen leaked on it. That
sure is Pulter's book. Where did you get it? That's the one he made such
a fuss about!"

CHAPTER XXIX

THE ACCUSATION

"Pulter's book, eh?" murmured Mortimer, slowly, as he turned it about,
looking on the front and back blank pages.

"It sure is," went on Andy, eagerly. "I'd know that ink blot anywhere.
Pulter let out a howl like an Indian when my pen leaked on his book. The
blot looks like a Chinese laundryman turned upside down."

"That's right," agreed Mortimer. "Queer, isn't it?"

"Yes," went on Andy, his curiosity growing. "Where did you get it?"

"Found it," spoke the rich lad, quickly. "I went out to the new Yale
Field to see how the stadium was coming on, and I saw this under a clump
of bushes. I knew it was a valuable book, so I brought it back with me.
It hasn't got Pulter's name in it, though."

"No," went on Andy. "His name was on the other front leaf. That was
worse blotted with the ink than this one, and he tore it out. But I'm
sure that's Pulter's book."

"Very likely," admitted Mortimer, coolly. "I'll take it to him. I'm glad
I found it. Going my way?"

"Yes," and Andy walked beside the lad from his home town, thinking of
many things. Mortimer went into Wri