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THE CRIME

Ever since Saki's Colonel, in "The Unberable Bassington," first announced that the Bandicoot had been lost, together with the roc and the borogove, and even hinted that there might not be much point in looking for it, the perverse have been looking. What became of the Bandicoot? No one ever knew. Well, hardly anyone, but a student of biology, casting about through the caverns of Peabody Museum this week, came upon a curious bit of taxidermy. The label, like all Peabody labels, was in flower long before Saki's colonel, and it reads "Broad-Billed Bandicoot." Spurred on by his discovery, the student of biology is now planning to invade Widener's "Books Uncatalogued for Lack of Funds, 1932-1933, 115,000." After all, there are still a few books of Tacitus and Livy unaccounted for.

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Several strollers were unnerved last Saturday night by a top-hatted apparition in the shrubbery beside Kirkland House, impatiently pushing twigs out of his eyes and muttering to himself. One, more curious than his fellows, drew nearer to do a little caves dropping. The muttering resolved itself into: "You'd think that Lehman Hall could afford to lay a sidewalk here."

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