“This morning. I got a pair of socks out. It was all right then.” Something rattled under his hand as he spoke, and he picked up a steel key-ring with five keys attached. “If folks are going to get fresh this way,” he muttered, “I’d better put these somewhere--” He stopped, stared for an instant at the keys and then swung around and strode to the closet. From the shelf he lowered the black suit-case. In a moment he had unlocked it and thrown the lid back. Jim, watching over his shoulder, spoke relievedly. “It’s there,” he said. But Clem had the folded envelope in his hand, and it was empty! He looked blankly over his shoulder. “Well, what do you know!” he ejaculated. Jim shook his head. “Sure it was there, Clem?” “Great Scott, you saw me put it there, didn’t you? Night before last, or night-- Gosh, that makes me sore!” “How much was in the envelope?” asked Jim. “Twenty-seven--no, twenty-two dollars. I lent you five. That left a two-dollar bill and four five-dollar gold-pieces. Oh, I don’t care such an awful lot about the money, but it’s rotten to know that there’s a thief in the dormitory! Why, it may be--” [Illustration: It’s rotten to know that there’s a thief in the dormitory.] “It might have been some one from one of the other halls,” said Jim. “Or maybe a sneak-thief from outside.” “Oh, it might be any one!” Clem slammed the bag shut and tossed it back to the shelf. “He was after those keys, whoever he was, and that’s the reason he messed everything up so. But how did he know where they were, eh? The other drawers are just as I left them. How about yours? Better have a look.” “I don’t think they’ve been touched,” Jim reported. “Guess whoever was in here came while we were both out this afternoon. How long were you gone?” “I haven’t been here since about half-past two, until just now. I was over at Upton for an hour or more. Then Carl Stevens and I went downtown. What time’s it now? Twenty past five? Well, that’s nearly three hours. When were you up last?” “Just before practice. About five to three, I guess.” Clem, hands in pockets, stared at the floor and then flung himself into a chair. “Well, I’m going to report it. Something will have to be done if a fellow can’t leave his room door unlocked. I don’t care a hang about the money, Jim, but I’d certainly like to catch the sneak that got it!” Jim, still standing, nodded. “Come to think of it, Clem, it wouldn’t be hard for a fellow to walk in the Meadow street gate and go through a dozen rooms if he found ’em empty. All he’d have to do would be pretend that he was looking for some fellow and didn’t know where he lived, sort of.” “The way you looked for Dolf Chapin last year,” said Clem, managing a brief smile. “Still, he’d have to get past Mr. Tarbot, and his door is nearly always open and looks right into the corridor down there.”