“Perhaps you know that the Remsens also own a fine residence that fronts on the Hudson River, eh? Not far from Fishkill?” “I didn’t know it; but that makes no difference. What about it?” “That is where they are staying just now; and Nan is there with them. She is to be their guest until spring. I believe there is a whole season of pleasure mapped out for Nan, and she is to be made quite the lioness—and all that.” “I understand. But what has all that got to do with——” “I am coming to that, Chick. That is what brings me to the rather remarkable tale that Nan told me.” “I see.” “To let you in on the ground floor of the story at once, a burglar got into the house up the river, a few nights ago. Nan surprised the burglar at work, made him give up his booty, agreed to say nothing about it to the members of the household, and let him go. But, it appears, that instead of relinquishing his booty and going away empty handed, he only gave up what was in sight, and actually got away with a diamond necklace and some other jewels that belonged to Mrs. Remsen, and to some of her guests. Nan says that what was actually stolen represented close to forty thousand dollars.” “Jimmy always was discriminating, when it came to a selection of jewels,” said Chick, with a slow smile. “Right again. But because of the disappearance of those jewels, Nan finds herself in a perplexity. Now, I’ll tell you the story just as it is.” “All right.” “It happened last Thursday night. Nan had not been feeling up to the mark that day. She had kept herself rather to herself, since morning. During the day Mrs. Remsen told Nan that she was expecting another guest that evening—a gentleman from the South, named Dinwiddie; Ledger Dinwiddie, to be exact.” “Rather a high-sounding title, that; eh?” “Yes. Well, Nan didn’t go down to dinner that evening, so she did not meet the guest, when he arrived. She retired early—that is, she arranged herself in comfortable attire, and kept to her own room, where she passed the time in reading. About eleven o’clock, she tried to compose herself to sleep, but after an hour of vain effort in that line, she decided that it was of no use, and sought another book. There did not happen to be one handy which interested her, and so, garbed in a wrapper, she descended the stairs to the library.” “It sounds like a chapter out of a book, Nick.” “It does, for a fact; but you haven’t got the real thing, yet.” “Go ahead, then.” “She had bed slippers on her feet, which made no sound as she walked. She crossed the lower hall, after descending the stairs, and stepped into the library, reaching around the jamb of the doorway, as she did so, to switch on the electric lights—and she did it so quickly that she failed to notice that there was a single light already burning in the room.” “More and more like a novel, Nick.”