“And you must have supper—I’ll get it ready right away,” said Mrs. Meekin. “Land sakes! To think of such things happening! My goodness!”
She bustled off to get the meal, which was almost ready, and Mr. Bobbsey, with Bert and Mr. Meekin, went to the place where the carriage had been left for just a few minutes alone with Baby May in it. And yet those few minutes were enough for the kidnapping to have taken place.
That it was a kidnapping—and done by the strange old woman in the faded shawl and with the green umbrella—all were now certain. Of course no one had seen her, but everything pointed to her.
“She just waited her chance and then sneaked up,” said Bert.
That seemed to have been the manner of it. The back of the carriage was turned toward the house, to keep the sun out of May’s eyes as she lay asleep. It would have been an easy matter for the old woman—or any one else—to have sneaked up and taken the baby. She could lift the child, asleep as she was, out of the carriage under the cover of the hood, and the children and Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey on the porch could not see this take place.
“Well, I can’t see anything here,” said Mr. Meekin, looking all around the carriage.
“Nor I,” agreed Mr. Bobbsey.
“Let’s take a look up and down the road,” suggested Bert.
But nothing was in sight—no one in view. This was not strange, as there were trees and bushes on either side of the highway, and it would have been an easy matter for the kidnapper to have concealed herself in these for a moment, or longer, and then to have taken some hidden path.
“Well, we must get on the trail at once,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “You have the police, or whoever does such things, send out a general alarm, Mr. Meekin. Bert and I will start off in our car, and when Jim Denton comes, he can do his part.”