Punch had to revise one of his estimates immediately. There was nothing fat or soft about Judy’s fiancé. What gave him that stout look was clear muscle. He was a much more impressive and formidable-looking figure like this than when he was covered up with clothes. “Where in the world have you been?” he said to Punch’s charge. “Got lost,” the other said cheerfully. “Punch, here, rescued me.” “Well, look alive,” Bruce commanded, “if you’re going to play tennis.” “I’m not,” his cousin told him. “Changed my mind.” “How’s Judy?” Bruce asked Punch. “Has she come out yet?” Punch said he didn’t think so. He hadn’t seen her, anyhow. “It’s a shame you won’t be able to see her play, Bill. Her form’s simply immense, and she gets around the court like a little wildcat.” Punch knew he didn’t like Bruce Applebury when he heard him say this. He was talking already as if he owned her. And what was rather strange, he got the impression that Bill Grant didn’t like it very well either. He was feeling rather silly as he came down-stairs from The Club over having doubted Bill Grant’s authenticity as a cousin of the bridegroom and having almost suspected him of being a burglar. He had half a mind to try to do as Judy had commanded and forget the necklace. But to his orderly young mind this would have been impossible. He simply couldn’t leave loose ends. So he crossed to his grandmother’s door and knocked lightly. He didn’t suppose she was there, for she seldom came down-stairs but once before dinner. He just wanted to make sure, once more, that everything was all right. He was on the point of letting himself in, since no voice answered his knock, when he heard footsteps. The door was opened, and he was confronted by Miss Digby. She had a sort of harassed, interrupted air as she opened the door, and it changed to something like exasperation when she saw who the visitor was. “What do you want?” she demanded. She didn’t offer to let him in. “Nothing,” he told her truthfully. “I just wanted to make sure that everything was all right.” “Oh, Punch,” she cried, “go away! Stop bothering about that necklace. Your grandmother’s just come up to lie down. She’s going to rest until dinner time. The strain of meeting so many people was a little too much for her. So don’t be a nuisance if you can help it.” “All right,” he said, “I won’t,” and she closed the door. He hung about the upper hall for a little while hoping, since Judy’s door was half open, that she would come out, but she didn’t, so he went forlornly out to the court. His spirits came up, little by little, out here in the sunshine. There was a lot of good fast tennis. Applebury played insatiably; a hard, wary, efficient sort of game. It was evident he loved it. Punch kept an eye open for Bill Grant, who he hoped would appear among the onlookers, but in this he was disappointed.