Runyon drove on a while in silence.
“Did she describe little Jane accurately?” he asked, in his high, piping tenor.
“She didn’t describe her at all,” said Uncle John, provoked by such insistence. “There isn’t likely to be more than one baby missing, in this lonely section of the country.”
The big rancher made no reply. Both were keenly eyeing every object that fell under the light of the lamps. Presently they caught sight of a small white house half hidden by a grove of tall eucalyptus. There was no driveway, but the car was stopped at the nearest point and Uncle John got out. To his surprise Runyon followed him, saying:
“Two heads are better than one, sir.”
“What do you mean by that, sir?” asked Mr. Merrick, sternly. “Don’t you think I’m competent to ask a question?”
“You don’t ask enough questions,” returned Runyon frankly. “I’m not sure we’re on the right trail.”
“Well, I am,” declared Uncle John, stiffly.
It took then some time to arouse the inhabitants of the house, who seemed to have retired for the night, although it was still early. Finally a woman thrust her head from an upper window.
“What’s wanted?” she inquired in querulous tones.