“What suspicion?” cried half a dozen.
“Never mind that,” said Rudolph, with a hasty glance toward Louise; “let’s be off, and talk afterward.”
“We men must decide on our routes and all take the road at once,” proposed Rudolph.
“It’s pitch dark,” said Runyon.
“Would you like to wait until morning?” demanded Rudolph, sarcastically.
“No; I want to rescue that baby,” said the big fellow.
“Then take the north road, as far as Tungar’s ranch. Stop at every house to inquire. When you get to Tungar’s, come back by the McMillan road. That’s a sixty mile jaunt, and it will cover the north and northwest. Take Mr. Merrick with you. Now, then, off you go!”
Runyon nodded and left the room, followed gladly by Uncle John, who longed to be doing something that would count. The others soon heard the roar of the motor car as it started away on its quest.
Then it was arranged for Arthur to drive back to Escondido to make inquiries and to watch the departure of the evening train, the only one to pass the station since baby had been missing. He was to carry Major Doyle with him and return by another route. Hahn promised to cover with his own car the only other two roads that remained to be searched, and he figured that they would all return to the house within two or three hours, when – if still there was no news – they might plan a further pursuit of the fugitive baby.
Helen Hahn had promised not to leave Louise until baby was found, and before starting Arthur assisted his wife to her room, where he left her weeping dismally one moment and screaming for little Jane the next.
Sing Fing had sent a maid to announce dinner, but no one paid any attention to the summons.
After the three automobiles had departed, Patsy and Beth remained in the nursery and left Helen and a maid with Louise. Once alone, Miss Doyle said to her cousin:
“Having started them upon the search, Beth, you and I must take up that pertinent suggestion made by Mr. Hahn and face the important question: ‘Why?’”
“I’m dying to be of some use, dear,” responded Beth in a disconsolate tone, “but I fear we two girls are quite helpless. How can we tell why the baby has been stolen?”
“Has she been stolen?” inquired Patsy. “We mustn’t take even that for granted. Let us be sensible and try to marshal our wits. Here’s the fact: baby’s gone. Here’s the problem: why?”
“We don’t know,” said Beth. “No one knows.”
“Of course some one knows. Little Jane, as our friend Bul Run reminded us, can’t walk. If she went away, she was carried. By whom? And why? And where?”
“Dear me!” cried Beth, despairingly; “if we knew all that, we could find baby.”
“Exactly. So let’s try to acquire the knowledge.”
She went into Mildred’s room and made an examination of its contents. The place seemed in its usual order, but many of Mildred’s trinkets and personal possessions were scattered around.
“Her absence wasn’t premeditated,” decided Patsy. “Her white sweater is gone, but that is all. This fact, however, may prove that she expected to be out after dark. It is always chilly in this country after sundown and doubtless Mildred knew that.”
“Why, she used to live here!” cried Beth. “Of course she knew.”
Patsy sat down and looked at her cousin attentively.
“That is news to me,” she said in a tone that indicated she had made a discovery. “Do you mean that Mildred once lived in this neighborhood?”
“Yes; very near here. She told me she had known this old house well years ago, when she was a girl. She used to visit it in company with her father, a friend of old Señor Cristoval.”
“Huh!” exclaimed Patsy. “That’s queer, Why didn’t she tell us this, when we first proposed bringing her out here?”
“I don’t know. I remember she was overjoyed when I first suggested her coming, but I supposed that was because she had at last found a paying job.”
“When did she tell you of this?”
“Just lately.”
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing more. I asked if she had any relatives or friends living here now, but she did not reply.”
“Beth, I’m astonished!” asserted Patsy, with a grave face. “This complicates matters.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Because, if Mildred knows this neighborhood, and wanted to steal baby and secrete her, she could take little Jane to her unknown friends and we could never discover her hiding-place.”
“Why should Mildred Travers wish to steal baby?” asked Beth.
“For a reward – a ransom. She knows that Arthur Weldon is rich, and that Uncle John is richer, and she also knows that dear little Toodlums is the pride of all our hearts. If she demands a fortune for the return of baby, we will pay it at once.”
“And prosecute her abductor, Mildred, afterward,” said Beth. “No, Patsy; I don’t believe she’s that sort of a girl, at all.”
“We know nothing of her history. She is secretive and reserved. Mildred’s cold, hard eyes condemn her as one liable to do anything. And this was such an easy way for her to make a fortune.”
Beth was about to protest this severe judgment, but on second thought remained silent. Appearances were certainly against Mildred Travers and Beth saw no reason to champion her, although she confessed to herself that she had liked the girl and been interested in helping her.
“We have still Inez to consider,” said she. “What has become of the Mexican girl?”
“We are coming to her presently,” replied Patsy. “Let us finish with Mildred first. A girl who has evidently had a past, which she guards jealously. A poor girl, whose profession scarcely earned her bread-and-butter before we engaged her. A girl whose eyes repel friendship; who has little to lose by kidnapping Jane in the attempt to secure a fortune. She was fond of baby; I could see that myself; so she won’t injure our darling but will take good care of her until we pay the money, when Toodlums will be restored to us, smiling and crowing as usual. Beth, if this reasoning is correct, we needn’t worry. By to-morrow morning Arthur will receive the demand for ransom, and he will lose no time in satisfying Mildred’s cupidity.”
“Very good reasoning,” said Beth; “but I don’t believe a word of it.”
“I hope it is true,” said Patsy, “for otherwise we are facing a still worse proposition.”
“Inez?”
“Yes. Inez isn’t clever; she doesn’t care for money; she would not steal Jane for a ransom. But the Mexican girl worships baby in every fibre of her being. She would die for baby; she – ” lowering her voice to a whisper, “she wouldkill anyone for baby.”
Beth shivered involuntarily as Patsy uttered this horrible assertion.
“You mean – ”
“Now, let us look at this matter calmly. Inez has, from the first, resented the employment of Mildred as chief nurse. She has hated Mildred with a deadly hatred and brooded over her fancied wrongs until she has lost all sense of reason. She feared that in the end baby Jane would be taken away from her, and this thought she could not bear. Therefore she has stolen baby and carried her away, so as to have the precious one always in her keeping.”
“And Mildred?” asked Beth.
“Well, in regard to Mildred, there are two conjectures to consider. She may have discovered that Inez had stolen baby and is now following in pursuit. Or – ”