He knows that we are on our guard now. For all he
can tell, we may have detectives in every corridor and he will be very
careful how he ventures near Nan's room to-night. No, he will try some
other way since this one has failed. And in a day or two we will motor
down to Sunny Slopes and relieve Nan's mind about this woman's
property."

In spite of Mr. Mason's very reasonable conviction that the man would
not return to Nan's room, the girls were nervous that night, especially
Bess, and they were all glad when the sun, creeping in through the
window, announced that another beautiful day had begun.

"Goodness!" said Bess, stretching fretfully, "if this keeps up much
longer, Nan Sherwood, I'll just be a wreck, that's all."

"Get your cold water plunge and you will feel better," said Nan, at
which practical suggestion Bess merely grunted.

They were to play a tennis match that day, Rhoda and Walter against Nan
and Grace, and naturally they all had set their hearts upon winning.
Bess had begged off on the ground that it was too warm to play.

It was a glorious morning for the sport, sunshiny and clear, yet cool,
and the girls forgot their restless night as they stepped out upon the
court.

It was not till they started to "warm up" and Nan wound up for her usual
swift serve that they had an inkling of the thing that was to spoil the
fun for that morning, at least.

Nan struck weakly at the ball, which landed ignominiously in the net and
then dropped her racket with a little cry of pain. The girls and Walter
ran to her anxiously, Walter jumping the net and scooping up the ball as
he came.

"What is the matter, Nan Sherwood?" Bess wanted to know. "That's the
funniest ball I ever saw you serve."

"It's my wrist," said Nan apologetically. "It turned just at the wrong
minute. I don't seem to have any power in it."

"Let me see," Walter demanded masterfully, and as he held her little
wrist in his hand Nan noticed that it was red and swollen.

"Oh-h!" she said impulsively, "that must be where the man grabbed me so
tight yesterday. I'm dreadfully sorry to spoil your game," she added,
thinking, as always, more of every one else than of herself.

"Hang the old game," said Walter explosively. "We can play that any
time. But if I could get my hands on that--that----"

"Don't say it," begged Nan, with a little laugh. "You mustn't talk about
people behind their backs, you know."

"But now our game is spoiled, and we have a