"This beats everything! It doesn't seem possible, unless she has been spirited away; for how could any one pass me on those steps without my seeing them?"
"Could he have swarmed one of the posts?" Eustace asked.
"I shouldn't say he could," Robertson replied, "but it looks as if he did. How could a man swarm a post with a sleeping child in his arms?"
"Black-fellows are dreadfully clever," said Kate.
"Hush," said Mrs. Robertson, "the poor lady is coming to herself. Don't let her hear you talking like that. Oh dear, how will she bear it?"
The poor woman's eyes were full of tears. She knew well enough what a mother's feelings would be under such awful circumstances.
"Every corner of the house was searched," said Robertson meditatively.
"We didn't look under the beds," said Nesta.
"Silly," said Eustace. "As if a black-fellow would have stopped to be looked for under a bed."
"Yes—that's no go," said Robertson; and just at that moment there came such a strange sound from under the very bed they were standing by that every one jumped—a sound that brought Mrs. Orban back to her senses far quicker than any of good Mrs. Robertson's restoratives, for it was the voice of Becky herself.