Freckles was the first person awake in the household the next morning, and he immediately started the breakfast. Jane, arriving on the scene fifteen minutes later, was surprised and delighted at the boy’s progress.
“We better not waken Mother,” he said. “I don’t suppose she got much sleep last night.”
“I’m afraid not.” Tears came to Jane’s eyes as they rested on the forlorn little dog sitting so disconsolately in the corner of the kitchen. “Freckles, what do you think could have happened to Mary Lou?” she asked.
“I think Tom Adams did something to her. Kidnaped her, probably. But I had one idea this morning, Jane, while I was making the coffee. Maybe he hid her in his own house somewhere! We never thought to search that.”
“Bright boy!” exclaimed Jane, so loudly as to awaken Mrs. Gay, who heard her from her bedroom. For one ecstatic moment the woman hoped that her daughter had been found. But Freckles’ next remark dispelled any such idea.
“It’s worth looking into,” he continued. “But I don’t really think she’s there, or Hattie would come and tell us. I can’t believe Hattie is an enemy—or on Tom’s side. She’s too fond of Mary Lou.”
Mrs. Gay, attired in a kimono and looking white and exhausted, peered in at the kitchen door.
“That coffee smells so good,” she said, “that I just can’t wait for a cup of it.”
Freckles grinned in delight and poured out the steaming liquid. It seemed to revive his mother, and she drank it eagerly. But she could not eat any breakfast.
“We’re going up to Adams’ first,” announced the boy. “I’ll get Stu Robinson to drive us in his car—and we’ll take Silky along. If Mary Lou should be hidden there, Silky’d find her.... And, Mother—if the police come, be sure to have them talk to Horace Ditmar and get a look at that threat he found shoved under his door yesterday!”