"Can't you arrange to capture the bold, bad men a little ahead of schedule?" Penny bantered. "I wish it would prove as simple as that." "It seems a shame to give up the vacation, because you've worked so hard lately. You really need a long rest." "We'll both take it when this case is solved," Mr. Nichols promised. "Run along now, for I'm particularly busy." Not in the least offended by the abrupt dismissal, Penny blew her father an impudent kiss as she went out the door. Since the death of Mrs. Nichols many years before, Penelope and her father had lived together in a large white house on Hilburn Street with only Mrs. Gallup, an elderly housekeeper, to see that the establishment ran smoothly. It was not surprising that under such an arrangement the fifteen-year-old girl enjoyed rare freedom. Yet Penny never abused her privileges and she enjoyed the complete confidence of her father. Penny owned her own roadster and drove it well. To be sure, the car was a second-hand model, but one of which she was very proud, for she had paid for it herself by teaching swimming at the Y.W.C.A. Automobiles, Penny discovered to her chagrin, had an unpleasant way of breaking down at odd moments, and for that reason her expense account usually was far ahead of her allowance. Occasionally, Mr. Nichols came to her rescue with very acceptable gifts of tires and spare parts. Reaching the tennis court, Penny parked her car on a near-by street. She found Susan Altman, her chum, already awaiting her. "It's almost too hot today for tennis," the dark-haired girl complained as she took her position at the baseline of the cement court, preparing to serve the first ball. For two long hours the girls battled back and forth. Although usually they were well matched, upon this particular day Susan found herself unable to cope with her companion's sizzling service and well-placed drives. Finally, after completely missing a ball which Penny had sent over the net with bullet-like speed, she threw down her racquet in disgust. "I've had enough punishment! That makes the third straight set you've won." "It's getting almost too dark to see the ball," Penny said generously. "Shall we call it an evening and finish off with something to eat?" They crossed over to Eby's Café, a favorite haunt of Belton City's younger set. The booths were quite deserted. "Everyone seems to have gone away for the summer," Susan mourned as she pondered over the menu. "I suppose you'll be leaving soon too, Penny." "No chance of it, I'm afraid. Dad has become involved in a new case which may keep us in town indefinitely." "I wish my father were a detective," Susan commented a trifle enviously. "It's too bad about the vacation of course, but your life is exciting at least."