"They've sent over from the other house to know if Jay is here," said the waitress, out of breath, showing she had run up-stairs very fast.
"Here!" cried Missy, springing to the door and opening it. "How should he be here? Do you mean to say they cannot find him?"
"Oh," gasped Ann, putting both hands on her heart, "Eliza's in a dreadful way. She's just got in from spending the night at home, and went up to the nursery to dress the children, and opened the door softly, and there was Jay's crib empty, but Gabby sound asleep."
"He'd gone into his father's room, no doubt," said Missy, pale and trembling.
"No," cried the woman, "she ran right off to Mr. Andrews' door, and he called out the child wasn't there, and in a terrible fright, she came over here. When I told her no, I knew he wasn't, she flew back."
"Go there, quick, and tell me if they find him in the kitchen or dining-room; maybe he missed Eliza and crept down-stairs and fell asleep on the sofa in the parlor."
This mission suited Ann exactly; she ran as her mistress bade her, but failed to come back with news. Missy dressed in a moment of time. She saw it all; she knew what she had heard in the night; she knew what the boat had meant hovering about the harbor, shooting out of sight. She knew what was the explanation of the fire, for which no one had ever been able satisfactorily to account. She began to realize what it was to have an enemy. The thought of that child's cry, so suddenly smothered last night, sent a pang through her. She scarcely knew how she got her clothes on; her hands shook as with an ague. When it came to opening the front door to let herself out she found they were as weak as if she had had a fever. Half-way across the lawn she met Ann, who shook her head and wrung her hands, and turned back, and followed her. Ann liked to be in the proscenium box when there was a tragedy on the boards; it would be dull laying the breakfast table when all this excitement was going on next door (though a trifle more useful). She ran after her mistress, who did not stop till she reached the gate that led into the Andrews' yard. There she found herself face to face with Mr. Andrews, who had come hurriedly down the path with the confused air of one who had been waked from sleep by a sudden and stunning blow.
"What does it mean," he said to her, as she came into the gate.
"You haven't found him?" she said, as they went together towards the house. "Where are his clothes—what has been taken—what doors were open?"
"His clothes are left—only a blanket from the bed is missing—no doors were open—a ladder was against the nursery window. I am bewildered. I don't know what it means at all."