MOONLIGHT
When Nan told her story to the Masons a little later they were not only indignant but very genuinely worried. Walter declared that he would "catch that man and wring his neck before the day was up," which boast, though extremely extravagant, brought strange comfort to Nan, shocked as she had been by the events of the morning.
Mr. Mason wanted to shadow the man, but Nan begged him not to do that until after they had had a chance to look up Mrs. Bragley's property for her and see what it was worth.
"If that's the way you feel," Mr. Mason decided sympathetically, "it seems to me the best thing to do is to get to Sunny Slopes as soon as possible, take a look at this land, and employ an attorney, if need be, to be sure her title is clear. Then if this man is illegally trying to wrest the land from its rightful owner, we will employ a detective and see that the fellow is brought to justice. I want to lift the load from these young shoulders," he said, looking down at Nan with the nice smile that made everybody like him. "They are too young to carry the troubles of other people yet."
Nan smiled up at him gratefully, and perhaps the interview might have ended there had Walter allowed it to. But Walter was still tremendously worried about Nan.
"But Dad," he said, turning to his father accusingly, "you certainly can't mean that you are going to let that man wander around loose so that he can worry Nan all he wants to. Why, this is four or five times already that he has nearly frightened her to death. Why," he continued, waxing more excited as he thought about it and glaring at the anxious group of people as though it were in some way all their fault, "he isn't going to stop when he so nearly got what he wanted to-day. He may come back again to-night——"
"That is very unlikely," Mr. Mason broke in, in a cheerful, matter-of-fact tone. "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 whole long morning on our hands," wailed Grace. "I wish I had slept a couple of hours longer."
"I tell you what we'll do," said Walter, with sudden inspiration. "We'll take some fishing tackle—Grace and I have enough to go round—and go out in the little old Bargain Rush to a place I know of where the fish just come trotting up begging to be caught. How about it, girls? Are you on?"
It seemed that they were, enthusiastically so, and half an hour later Grace was declaring that she was sorry about poor Nan's wrist, of course, but if this wasn't better than playing a hot game of tennis and probably getting beaten, her name wasn't Grace Mason, that's all.
Walter was right about the fish—they seemed to enjoy being caught, and when, almost at noon time, they came back to the hotel with Walter bringing up the rear with the result of the morning's sport proudly displayed, strangers followed them with envious eyes and people they knew stopped them to ask where they had found the fish.
As for Nan, she tried hard to enter into the old round of gaieties with her usual enthusiasm, for she knew that to show how worried she was would only spoil the fun of her friends. But to herself she acknowledged that she would not really be able to enjoy anything again until the mystery of those dangerous papers in her bag was finally cleared up and she was free from espionage once more.
Walter seemed to be the only one who really understood her state of mind and when she pleaded a headache that afternoon and broke an engagement with the girls to go to the cocoanut grove for tea, it was Walter who silenced their protests and took her himself up to her room.
"I'm awfully sorry about this," he said, taking the wrist, which had been rubbed with liniment and neatly bandaged by Mrs. Mason, in one of his sunburned hands and patting it awkwardly. "Does it ache very much now?"
"N-no. It doesn't ache at all," said Nan, adding quickly to cover her confusion as she drew her hand away, "I think you had better go down to the girls now, Walter. They will think you've deserted them."
"Oh, all right," said Walter, and perhaps it was only Nan's imagination that made her think he looked hurt. "Be sure and save the first two dances for me to-night."
He went out quietly, and for a long time after he had gone Nan stood looking at the closed door. Then her glance dropped to her bandaged wrist and she smiled a little.
"Boys are so funny," she murmured—to no one in particular.
There was a big dance that night, and when the time came to dress Nan still further incensed the girls by refusing to dress.
"How would I look in an evening dress and—this thing?" she asked, holding up her bandaged wrist.
"No one ever would look at your wrist when your face is along, Nan Sherwood," said Rhoda, at which Nan laughed but still remained firm.
"Oh, well," said Bess, flouncing over to her closet and taking out a pretty white net and blue satin dress, "I suppose you will have your own way, Nan. But one way or another, that old Mrs. Bragley and her miserable papers have just spoiled our trip. I wish she was in Jericho!"
"It was Guinea last time," Nan laughed at her.
Since Nan refused to dance that night, Walter also refused. Try as she might, Nan could not get him to alter his decision, and finally gave up the attempt in despair.
"Grace and Bess will be furious," she said.
"Let them," he answered recklessly. "There are plenty of other fellows around. See that moon over there? Say, Nan, I have a bully idea."
They were standing in one corner of the veranda of the Royal Poinciana. The veranda looked strangely deserted that night, the dance being at its height in the ballroom within, and it being still a little early for the inevitable drifting of couples from the heat of the ballroom to the cool breezes of the porch.
"An idea?" asked Nan, feeling adventurous herself. "Tell me."
"Back there somewhere the Bargain Rush is waiting," said Walter, his voice boyishly eager. "Since we can't dance, we might as well 'putt.' And—it seems too bad to waste that moon."
Nan thought so, too, and a moment later they were running hand in hand through the garden to the spot where the Bargain Rush waited. They scrambled on board, Walter started the engine, and they drifted out into the magic stillness of the night.
"Now tell me," said Walter after a while, his eyes shifting from the moonlit waters of the lake to Nan where she sat curled up in one of the chairs, gazing dreamily out over the shadowy water, "isn't this better than dancing?"
"It's awfully nice," admitted Nan.
"I get so tired of the hot ballroom, and the bright lights," went on the boy, as he bent over the engine, to see that it was running properly.
"Well, I get tired of the lights myself, Walter."
"And those flashing jewels! Why will some of the women load themselves with so much jewelry?"
"I'm sure I don't know. I think too much jewelry is horrid."
"I suppose some folks think that is the one way to let others know that they have money."
Nan drew a deep breath. "Look at the moon, Walter, isn't it simply wonderful?"
"Sure is. And I think——"
Walter came to a sudden stop. Another motor boat had loomed up, running dangerously close to the Bargain Rush.
"Hi, keep away from there!" called out the boy.
"They'll run into us!" exclaimed Nan, in sudden alarm.
"Don't get scared, sonny!" sang out a man in the other motor boat and then he suddenly veered out of the way, but with only an inch or two to spare.
"The great big clown!" burst out Walter, in just anger. "He did that just to give us a scare."
"It was no way to do," said Nan. She was not a little shaken by the unexpected happening.
"I hope he runs into a tree, or a rock, or something."
"There he goes, along the other shore of the lake," said Nan, a few seconds later. "See, I think he is trying to scare the folks in that other motor boat."
"He's either crazy or a fool," murmured Walter.
The unknown motorist was evidently amusing himself at the expense of those less daring than himself, and he raced up and down the lake several times. But soon a larger motor boat put out and bore down upon him.
"We've been laying for you," said a man who was evidently an official. "You'll not try any more of those tricks."
"That's right—place him under arrest," said another man, one who had come close to suffering a collision. "I'll make a charge against him."
"I was only having a little fun," whined the man who had been racing around.
"You can tell your story at the police station," was the answer. And then the fellow was placed under arrest.
Nan and Walter continued their ride in the moonlight, and soon the unpleasant incident was forgotten. They talked of their good times at Palm Beach, and then the youth referred to what Nan proposed to do for Mrs. Bragley.
"Nan, I'm awfully sorry you are so worried about those old property papers," remarked Walter presently. "Why don't you turn them over to my dad?"
"I thought you'd say that, Walter," she returned. "I've been expecting it. Why don't I? Well, to tell the truth, I don't know. I—I guess I am a little headstrong about it."
"Headstrong?" he repeated, plainly puzzled.
"Yes. You see Bess and the others think I am so—so—well, so scared I can't keep them in my possession. Well," Nan drew a deep breath, "I am scared. But, just the same, I'm not so scared as all that—and I'm going to prove it to them, so there!"
Walter gazed at her in open admiration for a moment.
"Nan, you're a brick!" he cried.