"Is Mr. Peterson in?" Nancy asked the girl in charge.

The young woman shook her head. "He's in bed upstairs, ill."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Nancy. "Give him our best wishes, and tell him we hope he'll be well soon."

"Oh, Mr. Peterson expects he'll feel good enough to come down to the shop this afternoon," the girl told her.

"Fine," Nancy replied. "I'll be back."

After Mrs. Gruen had bought some rolls, she and Nancy left the shop with the diary still in Nancy's big purse.

Although disappointed, Nancy said, "Oh, well, I'll see Mr. Peterson later in the day."

Back home, Nancy again looked through the diary, hopeful of learning something from it. As she was puzzling over the blurred, cramped English, a word suddenly caught her eye.

"It's part of an address!" Nancy cried, highly elated. "I'm certain of it!"

Getting her father's magnifying gla.s.s from the desk, Nancy held it above the blurred writing, then read the words:

Riverwood Cottage, Sandy Creek.

Nancy stared at the address. "The Swensons!" she thought excitedly.

The young detective telephoned George and Bess and asked them to come over. When the cousins arrived, she rushed them into the living room and showed them the address.

"Riverwood Cottage, Sandy Creek!" Bess exclaimed. "That's where the Swensons live!"

"Boy, this certainly complicates matters," George declared.

Nancy nodded, knowing she had stumbled on a valuable, yet disturbing clue. Could it be that Honey's father was the man who had set fire to the Raybolt home? If so, what motive could he have had? Intuition warned Nancy that the clue might lead to heartbreak for Honey and her mother.

Nancy's face was so troubled that Bess and George begged her to tell them what she was thinking. Nancy revealed her concern for the Swensons, and also told about the ring Ned had left with her. She then pointed to the Sandy Creek notation.

"So far, this is the only clear-cut clue the diary has yielded." Nancy sighed. "But I hate to think what it may mean."

Bess and George nodded soberly.

"I can't imagine what Honey's father could have to do with the fire," Bess declared. "Yet everything fits in. The strange man you saw running away-the finding of the ring with the Swedish inscription near the hedge-"

"We don't know if it belongs to him," Nancy said quickly. "Remember, there's a 'D' on it, and his initials are J and S."

"Well, the diary must belong to Mr. Swenson, or someone who knows him," George said. "Otherwise, his address wouldn't be in it. I wonder what he's like."

"I wish we could meet him," Nancy returned gravely. She mentioned her futile phone call to the Swenson home.

"What are you going to do about the diary?" Bess questioned curiously. "Turn it over to the police?"

"No, I'll keep it until I can get a translation, and find out whether or not it means trouble for the Swensons."

"Of course this is all only circ.u.mstantial evidence," George reflected. "We're not certain the man you saw is Swedish. Although, according to your description, he could be."

"If he is Mr. Swenson, and he's guilty of setting the fire, I suppose he'll have to be brought to justice," Bess spoke up worriedly.

"I agree," Nancy said quietly. "But somehow I can't believe Honey's father would do a thing like that. She's such a sweet little thing, and her mother is a lovely person."

"I'd hate to get them involved, no matter what!" George declared feelingly. "I'm afraid they don't have enough to eat as it is, and if the father should go to prison-"

"Let's try to take an optimistic view," Nancy said. "Perhaps neither the diary nor the ring is Mr. Swenson's, or if they are, he may have a perfectly blameless reason for having been on the Raybolt grounds."

"I think you're right about working this puzzle out by yourself, Nancy," George commented. "You've had wonderful success on other mysteries. This may be your chance to help Honey and her mother."

"I wish my car were ready now!"

"When will it be?" Bess asked.

"Not until later today. I'll tell you what! Let's walk to the garage. It won't do any harm to spur the mechanic on a bit. When we come back we can stop at Dad's office and ask him if he has traced the Raybolts. He promised to try."

At the garage, the girls were dismayed to learn that repairs on the convertible were only half finished. The mechanic, however, a.s.sured Nancy that the car would be ready by midafternoon.

The girls stopped a few minutes at a department store where Bess bought some kitchen spoons for her mother, then they continued to Carson Drew's office. As usual, the lawyer was busy, but he found time to chat with his daughter and her friends.

"I had my secretary try to get in touch with Mr. Raybolt," he told Nancy, "but so far she hasn't been able to locate him-or his wife. They seem to have vanished!"

"Maybe Felix Raybolt has gone into hiding," Nancy suggested with a wry smile.

"Oh, I've no doubt he'll be heard from, once the news reaches him that his house has been ruined," said Mr. Drew. "I'll keep trying to locate him."

It was nearly twelve o'clock when the girls left the lawyer's office. Bess and George said they must go home to luncheon.

"Come have a bite with me," Nancy urged. "Then we can all go to see Mr. Peterson-if you don't mind taking the bus."

George and Bess eagerly accepted the invitation. They were as curious as Nancy concerning the contents of the diary. Hannah Gruen served a delicious meal, and it was nearly three o'clock before the girls finally boarded a bus to call on the Swedish baker.

"I'm dying to know what the diary says," George declared enthusiastically.

"I hope it won't make things look any worse for Honey's father," Bess murmured apprehensively.

As they alighted near the bakery, the girls were distressed to see an ambulance parked directly in front of the shop. A small group of spectators had gathered.

"There's been an accident!" Nancy exclaimed, quickening her step. "Oh, I hope nothing has happened to dear old Oscar Peterson!"

The girls reached the bakery at the same moment that the ambulance drove away, siren wailing.

"What happened?" Nancy asked a woman who was standing near the door of the shop. "Was someone hurt?"

"It was Mr. Peterson. He had a relapse, and the doctor ordered him to the hospital. Expect he'll be there a few days."

"How dreadful!" said Bess. "But, Nancy, what will you do about the diary now?"