This surmise proved to be correct. About half an hour later a tall, well-groomed, prosperous-looking chap entered the lobby, and was instantly seized by the two Princeton men and mauled after the fashion of college mates who haven’t met each other in some time. He was unfeignedly glad to see Lefty, and when the first exuberant greetings were ended they settled down in a corner of the lobby to talk over old times. “You’re fat as a pig, Oggie,” Lefty remarked, with fond bluntness. “I’d like to have you on the squad for about a month.” Wilmerding waved away the suggestion with horror. “No, thanks! I never took to exercise. I’m very well satisfied as I am. Never did like to see every bone in a fellow’s body.” He paused an instant, and then chuckled. “But this is the best ever, running across you three old Princeton plugs in a bunch. Where’s Elgin? I was talking to him before supper, and I’ll be hanged if he isn’t a pretty decent chap. Never cared very much for him at college, but he seems to have improved a lot since then.” The silence which followed his remark was eloquent. Wilmerding glanced from one frowning face to the other, and raised his eyebrows. “What’s the matter?” he inquired. “Have I struck a false note?” “You certainly have if you sized up that cur as decent,” Stillman retorted impulsively. “You don’t mean it!” Wilmerding exclaimed. “Why, he seemed very pleasant. What’s he done to get you two on his neck?” “What he did at college was enough to get any self-respecting fellow down on him, let alone the dirty tricks he’s tried since then.” The plump chap looked puzzled. “At college?” he repeated. “I don’t understand, Jack.” “You will when I tell you that he was the one who stole Bob Ferris’ watch and money, and then tried to put the blame on Lefty.” The effect of his words on Wilmerding was extraordinary. The healthy glow faded swiftly from the plump cheeks, leaving them pale and mottled. His jaw dropped, and for an instant he sat staring at the reporter with startled eyes. “Impossible!” he gasped at last, in a hoarse, trembling voice. “It’s not impossible,” Stillman retorted sharply. “The whole thing’s as plain as print. Lefty caught him with the goods.” Slowly Wilmerding turned his eyes on Locke. The look in them was that of one who is unable to credit the evidence of his senses. “It’s true,” Locke affirmed, wondering curiously what brought that extraordinary expression into the other’s face. “I saw the watch in his possession.” Wilmerding dropped his lids and swallowed hard. For a moment or two he sat staring at his lap, where his plump, well-cared-for hands lay, the fingers tightly interlaced. His mouth was twitching nervously and his face was still pale. At last he raised his head again and glanced at Stillman. “It isn’t possible, Jack,” he said unevenly. “You’ve made a big mistake.” “Don’t be a fool, Oggie,” the reporter snapped. “There isn’t a chance of that. What the deuce do you know about it, anyhow?”