Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch

That was the spur she needed. She glanced around the room a moment and then asked:

“Who built this wing, Arthur?”

“Cristoval, I suppose. I’ve heard it was the original dwelling,” he replied. “The rest of the house was built at a much later date. Perhaps two generations labored in constructing the place. I do not know; but it is not important.”

“Oh, yes it is!” cried Patsy with increasing ardor. “The rest of the house is like many other houses, but – these walls are six or eight feet in thickness.”

“Adobe,” said Arthur carelessly. “They built strongly in the mission days.”

“Yet these can’t be solid blocks,” persisted the girl, rising to walk nervously back and forth before the walls. “There must be a space left inside. And see! the major’s bed stands close to the outer wall, which is the thickest of all.”

He stared at her in amazement and then, realizing the meaning of her words, sprang to his feet. Beth was equally amazed and looked at her cousin in wonder.

“Oh, Patsy!” she exclaimed, “the baby hasn’t been lost at all.”

“Of course not,” declared Patsy, her great eyes brilliant with inspiration. “She’s imprisoned!”

CHAPTER XII – ANOTHER DISAPPEARANCE

For a time the three stood regarding one another with startled eyes. Then Arthur gasped: “Great heaven! what fools we’ve been.”

“Come!” cried Patsy. “The nursery.”

They rushed down the corridors to the staircase and thence into the court. The door of the nursery stood ajar and Arthur first entered and lighted a lamp.

The light fell full upon the face of a man seated in a low rocking chair and holding a half smoked cigarette in his mouth. He was fast asleep. It was old Miguel, the ranchero.

Arthur shook his shoulder, savagely, and the man wakened and rubbed his eyes. Then, seeing who had disturbed him, he quickly rose and made his characteristic low, sweeping bow.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Weldon, angry and suspicious.

“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.”

He led the way to the little room adjoining, the one Inez had occupied. In one corner of the floor was a square hole, with steps leading down to a sort of blind pocket. Holding a lamp in one hand Miguel descended the steps and pushed against a block of adobe that formed part of the outer wall. It swung inward, disclosing a cavity about four feet in width and fully six feet high. The interior could be plainly seen from the room, by stooping close to the floor. There were shelves in the cavity and upon one of them stood a jar of milk.

“Oh,” cried Patsy, clasping her hands together. “I told you the wall was hollow!”

Arthur followed Miguel down the steps. He took the lamp and examined the little room. All the walls that formed it seemed solid.

Miguel was holding the block that served as a door. He released his hold, when Arthur had again ascended, and the block swung back into place.

As they returned to the nursery, Weldon asked:

“Do you know of any other rooms in the wall, Miguel?”

The man shook his head, uncertainly.

“I know there be other rooms in thees wall,” said he, “for Señor Cristoval have told me so. Hees father make the places to keep things safe from robbers – perhaps to hide from others, too. But where such places are ees the secret of the Cristovals. The room I show you ees all I know about. I thought that was secret, too; but no; the New York nurse tell Inez of that room, an’ Inez she keep Mees Jane’s milk there, to be cool.”

“Mildred told of the room!” exclaimed Arthur in astonishment.

“Yes,” said Beth, “she used to visit this house as a girl, when Cristoval lived here, and she must have known some of the secret rooms.”

“Ah, that ees what I theenk,” agreed old Miguel. “There ees more room in thees wall; that I know. If thees Mildreed know one room, she may know more. So I theenk she and Inez have go into some room of the wall an’ take Mees Jane with them. Some way, they cannot get out again.”

“Exactly!” cried Patsy triumphantly. “They are somewhere in that wall, imprisoned, and the major really heard the baby cry.”

“But – Miguel, Miguel!” pleaded Arthur, earnestly, “can’t you remember how the wall opens? Think! Think carefully.”

“I do theenk, Meest Weld; I theenk till I go sleep, an’ you find me here.”

“Now, let’s do some thinking ourselves,” suggested Beth. “The opening that leads into the wall must be from this very room. Miguel thinks so, too, and that’s why he came here. Let us examine the wall.”

They undertook to do this, holding the lamps close to the adobe blocks and inspecting every crack. The cement used in joining the blocks had crumbled away at the outer edges in almost every instance, and it was impossible to tell if any block was removable or not. Miguel or Arthur pushed hard against every block in the room, from those nearest the floor to those far above their heads; but not one yielded a hair’s breadth.

“Suppose we go outside,” said Patsy. “Perhaps there is some window, or grating, that will give us a clue.”

So they took old Miguel’s lantern and went into the garden where they could view the outer side of the wall. A tangle of climbing vines grew against the wing, but there was no window or other opening on the first floor. Above, on the second floor, were two windows, one of which admitted light and air to the blue room.

“How about the other window?” asked Beth.

“That,” said Arthur, “must be in an unused room at the end of the corridor. We have never furnished it.”

“I think it might be well to examine that room,” suggested Patsy.

So they reentered the house and, followed by Miguel, ascended to the second floor. The door of the library was ajar and those seated there, seeing Arthur and the girls pass, came trooping out to ask what they were doing.

Patsy briefly explained the new theory they had conceived to account for the disappearance of baby and the two nurses, and the idea was so startling that all became eager to join in the investigation.

They invaded the vacant room in a body, several of the men carrying lamps. It was in size and shape a duplicate of the blue room, with its one window deeply embedded in the wall, the surface of the embrasure being covered with heavy redwood planks.