"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." "It means Alphonsine," cried Missy, leaning against the door for support. "It means revenge and a reward. The boat we watched last night--the sounds I heard in the night--ah, ah, don't let us waste a moment. It was two o'clock when I heard the sound of oars--it is seven now--and a good breeze blowing. Oh, my poor little Jay, where have they got you by this time!" "You suspect that woman," said the father, "that I sent away last autumn? But what motive--what provocation--what could have prompted such an act? I confess I cannot follow you--" "Believe me, and don't waste a moment," cried Missy. "Rouse the village, ring the bells, get out your boat, send for the Roncevalles, telegraph to town to the police. The Roncevalles will take their yacht, she came in yesterday--you know she's fast. Why do you look so doubtful? Mr. Andrews, I love him as well as you do. I am sorry for you, but I shall hate you if you are not quick. Every moment that you doubt me is a moment lost. Jay is in the hands of wicked people. You will never see him again, if you are not prompt. Those creatures have stolen him--they will board some French ship outward bound; don't look for motive--they know you have money--they want revenge for being sent away. Oh, my little boy! What have I brought upon you!" And with a burst of tears, Missy hid her face. The poor man groaned and turned away. He walked to the door and back, as if trying to steady his brain and to think. Missy recovered herself in a moment, and making a step forward, with a passionate gesture of the hands, "Do something," she cried. "Do not, do not waste a moment." Then, seeing he still had not admitted her theory, but was weighing it with a troubled mind, she exclaimed, "Send in a hundred different directions if you will, but send my way first. You have no other plan follow mine till something better comes before you; it is better to be doing something than nothing." "You are right," he said, with sudden resolution, starting towards the library door--"Send a woman over to Captain Perkins; tell Michael to saddle Jenny."