“I realize that. If I thought for a moment that baby was in any peril I would go distracted, and scream louder than poor Louise is doing. Do you hear her? Isn’t it awful?”
“Let us tell Louise these things,” said Beth, rising from her chair. “What you call your ‘deductions’ are terribly tragic, Patsy, but they reassure us about baby. Shall we go to Louise?”
“I think it will be better,” decided Patsy, and they left the nursery and stepped out into the court. At the far end of the open space stood huddled a group of men, all of whom bore lanterns. Patsy advanced to the group and discovered them to be the Mexican laborers from the quarters. Old Miguel advanced a pace and bowed.
“We search for baby—for Mees Jane—eh?” he said, questioningly, as if desiring instructions.
“That is a happy thought, Miguel,” replied the girl. “The others are scouring the roads in their motor cars, but the country needs searching, too—away from the roads, in the fields and orchards. Send your men out at once, and scatter them in all directions.”
Miguel turned and rapidly harangued his followers in the Spanish patois. One by one they turned and vanished into the night. Only the old man remained.
“Ever’bod’ love Mees Jane,” he said simply. “They all want to find her, an’ ask me to let ’em go. Good. They will search well.”
In spite of the words there was a tone of indifference in Miguel’s voice that attracted the girl’s notice. He did not seem in the least worried or agitated, nor did he appear to attach much importance to the search. Yet Patsy knew the aged foreman was one of “Mees Jane’s” most devoted admirers.
“Where do you think baby is?” she asked abruptly.
“Quien sabe?” he answered, and then in English, “who knows?”