"Oh, _dear_, Papa Sherwood!" gasped Nan. "What is the matter with that
horrid man? He says the most dreadful things about you!"
"What's that?" demanded her father, quickly. "What do you know
about Bulson?"
"More than I really want to know about him," said Nan, ruefully. She
related briefly what had happened a few days before on Pendragon Hill.
"And when he called you a rascal, I--oh! I was very, very angry! What did
he mean, Papa Sherwood?"
But her father postponed his explanation until later; and it was really
from her mother that Nan heard the story of Mr. Sherwood's trouble with
Ravell Bulson. Mrs. Sherwood was very indignant about it, and so, of
course, was Nan.
A week or more before, Mr. Sherwood had had business in Chicago, and in
returning took the midnight train. The sleeping car was side-tracked at
Tillbury and when most of the passengers were gone the man in the berth
under Mr. Sherwood's began to rave about having been robbed. His watch
and roll of banknotes had disappeared.
The victim of the robbery was Mr. Ravell Bulson. Mr. Bulson had at once
accused the person occupying the berth over his as being the guilty
person. Nan's father had got up early, and had left the sleeping car long
before Mr. Bulson discovered his loss.
The railroad and the sleeping car company, of course, refused to
acknowledge responsibility for Mr.
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