“Good!” he said. “That is right, too. I arrived that very evening. Now, I wonder if it could have been me? I used to walk in my sleep when I was a child, although I don’t remember that I had the habit of purloining necklaces when I did so. But, then, one never can tell.” “Indeed one cannot,” retorted Nan. And then, assuming the air of one who was joking, she added: “I should advise a close inspection into your past record, Mr. Dinwiddie, if it is true that you formerly were in the habit of prowling about houses in the night.” “Gladly!” he exclaimed, joining in the general laugh that followed. “Will you give us the benefit of searching yours, also, Miss Nightingale?” A slow flush stole into the cheeks and brow of Nan Nightingale, but she was equal to the occasion. She replied: “It will not be necessary that you should search. Fortunately there is one who has known me many years. Mr. Carter can supply all particulars that may be required.” “I am afraid,” said Duryea, “that what was intended as a joke all around has taken a serious turn. Let us drop it before we begin to indulge in personalities. Nevertheless, Miss Nightingale, it is well to have a person so renowned as Nick Carter to vouch for one. I only wish that he could perform the same service for me.” “Perhaps, Mr. Dinwiddie, I might be able to do that, also,” replied Nick quietly. “It is my profession to know something about a great many people who do not suppose that I know them at all. However, as you say, the conversation is taking too serious a turn. I will propose a game of tennis with you, Mr. Dinwiddie; what do you say?” “Gladly. Come along. Singles?” “Yes. Singles. There is a vacant court.” “All right. You’re on. But I warn you, Mr. Carter, I am considered an expert.” “So much the better. I think I just suggested that about you in quite another line, did I not?” CHAPTER V. THE GHOST OF JIMMY. The game of tennis was over. There were indications of a shower, and the spectators had scampered toward the wide verandas for shelter, so that Nick Carter and the so-called Ledger Dinwiddie stood alone near one end of the net. It was the opportunity which Nick wanted. “Well, Jimmy, this is a bolder game than usual, that you are playing, isn’t it?” he asked smilingly. Duryea raised his eyes to the detective’s without a trace of resentment in them, and also without a vestige of surprise visible. He also raised his brows interrogatively. “Now, I wonder where in the world you hit upon that name?” he said, in reply, and his expression denoted nothing more nor less than wonderment. “That is what my dear old dad used to call me, Jimmy! James Ledger Dinwiddie is my full name. How’d you hit upon the Jimmy part of it?” “Oh, come, Jimmy, don’t try to play it out with me. You know it won’t work. You are Jimmy Duryea, all right—and the climate of The Birches isn’t good for you, just now.”