“Let me look at it,” demanded Mr. Parker.

“It mighty hard to read.  It sure is a scan-lous bit of writin’.”

With this comment the colored woman handed over to her master a bit of dirty wrapping paper.

On it was scrawled in almost illegible characters: 

“U wont git hur agin.—­The Romanys.”

“The Romanys!” exclaimed Peggy.

“Yes; that’s the gipsy word for themselves,” said Mr. Parker.  “I’m afraid that the same band that had her before has stolen her again.”

“What are we to do?” wailed Bess.

“Hush!” said Jess; “let Mr. Parker decide what is best.”

They stood about with dismayed faces.

Miss Prescott was weeping softly.  Peggy could hardly keep back her tears.  The little brown Wren had become very dear to all of them.  It was a hard blow indeed to lose her like this.

“But how could they know that she was here?” objected Jimsy.

“Why, that silly newspaper report that went out when you arrived here about your adventures on the way and the romantic rescue of Wren.  If they had come across that it would have given them a clew.”

“They were traveling south then, Wren said, and that was two weeks ago.  They would have had ample time to reach this vicinity.”

“That is so,” rejoined Mr. Parker solemnly; “I’ll make telephonic inquiries at once.  They may have been seen in the vicinity.”

“While you are doing that we’ll examine the room.  They may have left a clew there,” said Roy.

Roy and Jimsy darted upstairs on this errand.  On looking round the place it was clear enough how the abductors had gotten in.  Outside the window was an extension roof.  It would have been very easy for an active man such as gipsies usually are to have clambered in and out again without detection.

Taking a lantern they examined the ground outside.  On a flower bed below the roof was the imprint of a man’s feet.

“Notice anything peculiar about it?” asked Jimsy, for Roy was bending earnestly over the prints.

“Yes, I’d know that foot print again anywhere,” he said; “see, one side of the man’s boot was broken, the one of the right foot.  His toes show here on the ground.”

“That might be a good clew if it was daylight; but right now—­”

Jimsy sighed.  It was manifestly impossible to do any tracking of the man with the broken boot in the darkness.

“We’ll have to wait till daylight.”

“Yes, bother it all.  They may be miles away by that time.”

“I doubt it.  I wouldn’t wonder if they hide right around here.  There are lots of good places, and they know that the hue and cry will be so hot that they would be caught if they traveled.”

“That’s so.  Maybe we can find them, after all.”

“Let’s hope so.  Well, we can do no more good here.  Let’s go in.”

Peggy met them at the door.  She seemed wildly excited over something.