“Stout woman, about thirty-five, abnormally small feet, always carries her head on one side and has a way of zigzagging when she walks.”
“You have seen her then?” laughed the chief.
“No, but that is the way Ursula Ellett describes her.”
“What color hair?”
“She didn’t say, but you know and I know and the wig maker knows that the color of hair doesn’t cut much ice. Anyhow, please keep your eyes open for this person, who goes by the name of Fitchet at home and is a trained nurse.”
The chief promised and rang for a plain clothes man to get immediately on the job, while Josie hurried back to the Higgledy Piggledy Shop.
Ben had returned and reported no sign of his little brother at their home. Darkness had set in and snow had begun to fall like a fine powder. Ursula sat like a statue, dolls piled around her. She looked up as Josie entered and tried to smile. Josie reported that she had set the police on the track of Fitchet and if it could be possible that she had anything to do with the disappearance of little Philip she would be found forthwith.
“What could she want with him?” Josie asked. “Not that he isn’t wholly desirable and lovely, but would that be anything to the type of woman Miss Fitchet seems to be?”
“I don’t know, but Mr. Cheatham is capable of any villainy and not above any small meanness. I must get out on the street and help hunt my darling,” cried Ursula.
“No, my dear, you must stay right here. It is very cold and you are so wrought up you could do no good. The boy will be found in no time and you must be ready to hold him in your arms when he gets back,” declared Josie.