“I am look for Mees Jane,” returned the old man calmly.
“In your sleep? Come, get out of here.”
“Wait a minute, Arthur,” said Beth, reading Miguel’s face. “He knows something.”
Arthur looked at the man critically, reflecting that there must be a reason for his presence in the nursery. Miguel had been fond of baby Jane. Was he merely disconsolate over her loss, or—did he really “know something”?
“Miguel once told me,” said Patsy, speaking slowly, “that he used to live in this house, in Cristoval’s time, and knows it thoroughly.”
The old man bowed.
“I theenk,” said he, “perhaps we find Mees Jane here—not somewhere else.”
“Why do you think that, Miguel?”
It was Patsy who questioned him. He mused a bit before replying.
“The old señor—the father of my Señor Cristoval—was strange mans,” said he. “He make thees house a funny way. Come; I show you.”