"They've stolen the baby!" Annie wailed.
Peter felt a cold chill run up his back as he peered into the empty carriage. For a moment he was silent, struggling to grasp the full horror of the fact; then he laid a hand, none too lightly, on Annie's shoulder, and shook her into a state of coherence.
"Stop yer noise an' tell me when it happened."
"Just now! Just a few minutes ago. The baby was asleep, an' Vittorio, he had some new flowers in the farther bed, an' he wanted me to tell him their name. I wasn't gone more'n five minutes, an' when I come back I peeked in to see if the baby was all right, an' the carriage was empty! We've hunted everywhere. He's gone—stolen just like the lap-robes."
Annie buried her head in her arms and commenced sobbing anew. Peter's face reflected the blankness of the others.
"Lord! This is awful! What will its mother be sayin'?"
Annie's sobs increased at this agonizing thought.
"It's them Armenian-lace women," Nora put in. "Master Bobby says they're gypsies, and are always stealing babies and holding them for ransom."
"Haven't ye done anything?" he cried. "Didn't ye telephone for the p'lice?"
"Master Bobby wouldn't let us. He says the local police are blind as bats and what we need are detectives. An' above all, he says, we must not let it get into the papers; his father is awful mad when anything gets into the papers. Leave it to him, he says, and he'll have the gypsies shadowed."