Andy could scarcely understand it. Surely, he thought, there must be some mistake. He was glad there was not a crowd of students about to witness the humiliation of Link—a humiliation none the less acute if the charge was groundless.

“Wait a minute—hold on!” exclaimed Andy, sharply, and there was something in his voice that caused the detective to pause.

“Well, what is it?” the officer growled. “I haven’t any time to waste.”

“Do you really want him on a robbery charge?” asked Andy.

“I do—if his name is Link Bardon,” was the cool answer. “I guess he won’t attempt to deny it. I’ve been on his trail for some time.”

“That’s my name, sure enough—I have no reason to deny it,” said Link, who had turned pale. His eyes had traces of tears in them. After all, he was not much older than Andy and he was a gentle sort of youth, unused to the rough ways of the world.

“I thought I was right,” the detective went on. “I’ve been watching for you. Now the question is—are you coming along quietly, or shall I have any trouble?”

“I won’t give you any trouble—certainly not,” protested Link. “But this is all a mistake! I haven’t taken a thing! You know I wouldn’t steal, don’t you, Mr. Blair?”

“I certainly believe it, Link, and I’ll do all I can to help you. What are you going to do with him?” he asked the detective.

“Lock him up—what do you suppose?”

“But can’t he get out on bail?”

“Oh, it could be arranged. I have nothing to do with that. I’m just supposed to get him—and I’ve got him!”

“But I—I haven’t done anything!” insisted Link.

“That’s what they all say,” sneered the detective. “Come along!”

“Do—do I have to go with him?” asked Link, turning to Andy in appeal.

“I’m afraid so,” was the answer. “But I’ll go with you and try to get bail. Don’t worry, Link. It’s all a mistake. You’ll soon be free.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” warned the officer. “I’ve been searching your room, young man, and I guess you know what I found there.”

“You certainly found in my room only the things that belonged to me!” exclaimed Link, indignantly.

“Did I? What do you call this?” and the detective took from his pocket a small book. Andy recognized it at once as one of the valuable ones taken from Chittenden Hall.

“You—you found that in my room?” cried Link, aghast.

“I sure did. In your room on Crown street. Now maybe you won’t be so high and mighty.”

“If you found that in my room, someone else put it there!” declared Link. “I certainly never did.”

“Well, I won’t say that couldn’t happen,” spoke the officer coolly, “but if you think I planted it there to frame up some evidence against you, you’ve got another guess coming. I took your landlady into the room with me, to have a witness, and she saw me pull this book out from the bottom of a closet.”

“I never put it there!” protested Link.

“You can tell that to the judge,” went on the officer. “How about all the money you’ve been sporting around to-day, too?”

Link started. Andy, too, saw how dangerous this evidence might be.

“I’ve had some money—certainly,” admitted Link.

“Where’d you get it?”

Link hesitated. He realized that the story would sound peculiar.

“It was sent to me,” he answered.

“Who sent it?”

“I don’t know. It came in the mail without a word of explanation.”

The detective laughed.

“I thought you’d have some such yarn as that,” he said. “They all do. I guess you’ll have to come with me. I’m sorry,” he went on in a more gentle tone. “I’m only doing my duty. I’ve been working on the quadrangle case for some time, and I think I’ve landed my man. But it isn’t as much fun as you might think. I’ll only say that I believe I have the goods on you, and I’ll warn you that anything you say now may be used against you. So you’d better keep still. Come along.”

“Must I go?” asked Link again of Andy.

“I’m afraid so. But I’ll have you out on bail as soon as I can. Don’t worry, Link.”

Andy learned from the detective before what judge Link would be arraigned and then, as the young farmer lad was led away in disgrace, Andy started back to his room.

“I’ve got to get Dunk to help me in this,” he reasoned. “To go on bail you have to own property, or else put up the cash, and I can’t do that. Maybe Dunk can suggest a way.”

Andy was glad it was so dark that no one could see Link being taken away by the officer.

“How did that book get in Link’s room?” mused Andy. “That sure will tell against him. But I know he didn’t steal it. Some other janitor or helper who could get into Chittenden may have taken it, and then got afraid and dumped it in Link’s closet. A lot of college employees live on Crown street. I must get Link a lawyer and tell him that.”

Andy found Dunk in the room, and excitedly broke the news to him.

“Whew! You don’t say so!” cried Dunk. “Your friend Link arrested! What do you know about that? And the book in his room!”

“Somebody else put it there,” suggested Andy.

“Possibly. But that money-in-a-letter story sounds sort of fishy.”

“That is a weak point,” Andy admitted. “But we’ll have to consider all that later. The question is: How can we get Link out on bail? Got any money?”

Dunk pulled out his pocketbook and made a hurried survey.

“About thirty plunks,” he said.

“I’ve got twenty-five,” said Andy. “Link has nearly a hundred himself.”

“That won’t be enough,” said Dunk. “This is a grand larceny charge and the bail will be five hundred dollars anyhow. Now I’ll tell you the best thing to do.”

“What?”

“Hire a good lawyer. We’ve got money enough, with what Link has, to pay a good retaining fee. Let the lawyer worry about the bail. Those fellows always have ways of getting it.”

“I believe you’re right,” agreed Andy. “We can put up fifty dollars for a retainer to the lawyer.”

“I’ll telegraph for more from home to-night,” said Dunk. “Andy, we’ll see this thing through.”

“It’s mighty good of you, Dunk.”

“Nonsense! Why shouldn’t I help out your friend?”

“Do you think he’s guilty?”

“I wouldn’t want to say. Certainly I hope he isn’t; but I’d like to get my watch back.”

“Well, let’s go get a lawyer,” suggested Andy.

A sporty senior, whom Dunk knew, and who had more than once been in little troubles that required the services of a legal man, gave them the address of a good one. They were fortunate in finding him in his office, though it was rather late, and he agreed to take the case, and said he thought bail could be had.

Andy and Dunk made a hasty supper and then, letting their studies go, hurried to the police court, where, occasionally, night sessions were held.

Link was brought out before the judge, having first had a conference with the lawyer Dunk and Andy had engaged. The charge was formally made.

“We plead not guilty,” answered the lawyer, “and I ask that my client be admitted to bail.”

“Hum!” mused the judge. “The specific charge only mentions one book, of the value of two hundred dollars, but I understand there are other charges to follow. I will fix bail at one thousand dollars, the prisoner to stand committed until a bond is signed.”

Andy and Dunk gasped at the mention of a thousand dollars, but the lawyer only smiled quietly.

“I have a bondsman here, your Honor,” he said.

A man, looking like an Italian, came forward, but he proved to have the necessary property, and signed the bond. Then Link was allowed to go, being held, however, to answer to a higher court for the charge against him.

“Now if you’ll come to my office,” suggested the lawyer, “we’ll plan out this case.”

“Oh, I can’t thank you two enough!” gasped Link, when he was free of the police station. “It was awful back there in the cell.”

“Forget it,” advised Dunk, with a laugh. “You’ll never go back there again.”

The consultation with the lawyer took some time, and when it was over Link started for his room. He was cheered by the prospect that the case against him was very slight.

“Unless they get other evidence,” specified the lawyer.

“They can’t!” cried Link, proudly.

Andy and Dunk went back to their room, to do some necessary studying. On their way they stopped in the Yale branch postoffice. There was a letter from home for Andy, and when he had read it he uttered such an exclamation that Dunk asked:

“Any bad news?”

“Yes, but not for me,” replied Andy. “This is from my mother. She writes that Mr. Gaffington—that’s Mortimer’s father—has failed in business and lost all his money. This occurred some time ago, but the family has been keeping it quiet. The Gaffingtons aren’t rich at all, and Mortimer will probably have to leave Yale.”

“Too bad,” said Dunk, and then he started off, leaving Andy to read the letter again.