Paul sauntered about the room for a few minutes. Apparently he was
glancing at the numerous college pennants and other things that were
upon the walls; but in reality he found himself wrestling with the
strange puzzle that was giving his chum so much concern.

Presently he stood by the window, which was partly open.

"Who owns the Dempsey house now, Jack?" he asked, indicating the building
next door.

"Oh! it is still for sale," replied the other. "They don't want to rent
it again, you know, and ever since that last party moved out of town and
left things looking so bad, Mr. Dempsey has kept it closed up."

"When he lived here, you and Scissors used to be something of chums,
didn't you?" Paul went on.

"Well, yes," the other admitted, "when we were smaller. But ever since
Scissors started going with the Slavin crowd I've cut him dead."

"I wish I lived as close to you as this," Paul observed. "Why, we could
nearly shake hands across the gap. I don't suppose Scissors ever drops in
to see you nowadays?"

"I should say not," laughed Jack; "why, we've been at swords points now
for a year and more, and never even speak as we pass each other."

"Oh! well, of course then it would be silly to think of suspecting him,"
remarked Paul as he sat down again.