“All the other thefts happened in this locker, didn’t they?” inquired Ripley, suspiciously.

“Yes—–­if thefts they were,” admitted Dr. Thornton.

“Nothing missing from the other locker room?”

“Nothing.”

“Doctor,” went on Ripley, as though loath to utter the words, I hate to suggest anything of the sort.  But—–­er—–­but—–­has the monitor of this locker been searched after any of the—–­er—–­disappearances?”

“Ripley, you forget yourself!” cried the principal.

“What do you mean!” flared Dick, in the same breath, turning crimson, next going very white.

“Doctor, I’m sorry,” spoke Ripley, with great seeming reluctance, “but that pin is a costly one.  I ask that the monitor be searched!”

CHAPTER VII

DICK’S TURN TO GET A JOLT

“Ripley, you don’t realize what you are saying!” cried Dr. Thornton, gazing at the sophomore in very evident distress.

“I only know that I’m all broken up, sir, over losing my costly pin,” persisted Fred.  “And I know my father will be angry, and will raise a row at the School Board’s meeting.”

Dick Prescott, standing by, had turned from scarlet to white, and back again.

“But Ripley,” explained the principal, almost pleadingly, “the act would be illegal.  No one has a lawful right to search the person of anyone except a properly qualified police officer.  And even the police officer can do so only after he has arrested a suspected person.”

“Oh, then I suppose, sir, there’s no show for me to get any real justice done in this matter,” muttered Fred, with an air of feigned resignation.

But by now Dick Prescott felt that he must speak—–­or explode.

“Dr. Thornton,” he cried, chokingly, “the charge made against me, or, at least, implied, is an outrageous one.  But, as a matter of justice to me, now that the hint has been cast, I ask that you, sir, search me right here and now.”

“Then you’ve had time to hide the pin!” muttered Fred, in a very low voice.

Dick Prescott heard, but he paid no heed to the fellow.

“Dr. Thornton, will you search me—–­now?” insisted the young freshman.

“But I don’t want to, Prescott,” appealed the principal.  “I haven’t the remotest suspicion of you, anyway, my dear boy.”

“I ask the search, sir, just as a matter of justice,” Dick insisted.  “If it were not too strong a word, then I would say that I demand to be searched here and now.”

Suiting the action to the word, Dick Prescott, standing proudly erect, raised both arms over his head.

“Now, please, doctor, just as a matter of simple justice,” begged the young freshman.

“Oh, very well, then, Mr. Prescott,” sighed the principal.  “But I never had a more distasteful task.”

Into one of the side pockets Dr. Thornton projected a shaking hand.  He drew out only some scraps of paper, which he promptly thrust back.  Then he inserted a hand in the jacket pocket on the other side.