Scarcely daring to breathe，they stood in tense attitudeslistening for a repetition of the baby's cry.Only an awesome，sustained silence rewarded them.
The major's open watch upon the table ticked out the minutes—？ve—ten—？fteen.Then the doctor crept back to the library and quietly resumed his book.Presently Runyon joined him.
"Between you and me，Doc，"said the big fellow，"Idon't take much stock in ghosts.""Nor I，"returned Dr.Knox."Major Doyle is overwrought.His imagination has played him a trick."Rudolph Hahn entered and lighted a fresh cigar."Curious thing，wasn't it？"he said.
"No；mere hallucination，"declared the doctor.
"I don't know about that，"answered the boy."Seems to me a ghost would do about as a person in life did.The child cried—poor little baby Jane！—and the ghostly wail was heard in the one room in this house that is haunted—the blue room.Perhaps there's something about the atmosphere of that room that enables those who have passed over to make themselves heard by us who are still in the ？esh."He was so earnest that the doctor glanced at him thoughtfully over the top of his book.
"It's the dead of night，and you're agitated and unreasonable，Hahn.In the morning you'll be ashamed of your credulity."Dolph sat down without reply.His wife came in and sat beside him，taking his hand in hers.In another quarter of an hour back came Uncle John，shivering with the chill of the corridor，and stood warming himself before the grate ？re.
"If the major heard the baby，"he said reflectively，"it must be proof that—that something—has happened to the little dear，and—and we must face the worst.""Well，it was baby I heard，"asserted the major，who，having hastily donned his clothes，now made his reappearance in the library."I was lying in a sort of dose when the cry ？rst reached my ears.Then I sat up and listened，and heard it again distinctly，as if little Jane were only two feet away.Then—then—""Then you tested your lungs and made your escape，"added the doctor drily.
"I admit it，sir！"said Major Doyle，haughtily."Had itbeen anyone else who encountered the experience—even a pill peddler—he would have fainted."In the blue room Patsy and Beth alone remained with Arthur Weldon.Not a sound broke the stillness.When an hour had passed，Patsy said：
"Won't you go away，Arthur？Beth and I will watch."He shook his head.
"You can do no good by staying in this awful place，"pleaded the girl，speaking in a whisper.
"If she—if baby—should be heard again，I—I'd like to be here，"he said pathetically.
Patsy knew he was suffering and the fact aroused her to action.
"Father isn't a coward，"she remarked，"and either heheard the cry，or he dreamed it.In the latter case it amounts to nothing；but if Jane really cried out，that fact ought to give us an important clue."He started at this suggestion，which the girl had utteredwithout thought，merely to reassure him.Yet now she started herself，struck by the peculiar significance of her random words.
"In what way，Patsy？"asked Beth，calmly.
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."Therest 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，risingto 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 lostat all.""Of course not，"declared Patsy，her great eyes brilliant with inspiration."She's imprisoned！"