“Wears gilt hairpins, too,” laughed Bob, stooping and picking up what was even more a give away as to sex than the uncertain tracks of high heels.
“Oh, you jewel!” cried Josie. “Meaning you and not the hairpin, Bob. I’m certainly glad you are in on this. I didn’t see the hairpin and it will mean a lot more to me than anything.”
“Let me present it to you,” said Bob, bowing low with mock courtesy. “Josie, you delight my soul. I feel like Dr. Watson in attendance on Sherlock Holmes. But joking aside, I believe if poor little Philip has really been kidnaped it was by some person or persons who had been hiding in this room.”
“Sure! But it was only one person because there are no signs of other footprints. Thank goodness the floor was stained with a dark varnish. It makes the footprints so much easier to define. Well, Bob, there is no use in hanging around here. I reckon we’d best get out and hustle.”
Josie regretted that she had not telephoned police headquarters immediately after hearing from Ursula that Philip was missing, but remembering the last time, she had felt the chief might think that like the boy in the fable she had called “wolf” too often. Now he must be informed of the trouble and get his men busy on the case. The kidnapper had several hours start and no time was to be lost or, as Josie expressed it, “the scent might get cold.”
Ursula was in a state of mind bordering on frenzy. She walked up and down the room wringing her hands and moaning piteously.
“If only I had not gone over to the Conants’,” she wailed. “Or if I only had locked the door. I’ve always been afraid to lock the boys up in a room for fear of fire and they couldn’t get out. My baby Philip! My baby Philip!”
Josie stood by her side and endeavored to calm her.
“See here, Ursula, you must listen to me a moment and you must tell me some things I want to know. You must be very frank and conceal nothing.”
“I never have, Josie—nothing of the least importance, that is.”