Long after the party was over, sleep hardly came to Sinclair. He stayed on alert throughout the first half of the evening, perched near Leah's bed like an ancient sentry. There was little to no change in the girl's health. Her complexion was dull, her eyes were tired, and she had a cough that wouldn't go away.

He kept a watchful eye on whomever walked into her room and barked as fiercely as he could at Ms Wickleworth when she did.

"Oh!" She placed a startled hand to her chest the first time with a nervous laugh. "Good dog! There, there!"

As she reached out to pet him, he snapped at her hand, giving her a horrible fright that sent her scurrying out of the room. But he didn't mind. He wanted her nowhere near Leah. However, he regretted his actions when old Ms Wickleworth returned again – with Prim.

"I think something might be wrong with the pup, madam." She said, still visibly nervous though trying to laugh it off. "It snapped and barked when I came close, like a mad dog."

Prim's usually nice face crumpled. "We won't tolerate any noises or yelping near Leah, Sinclair. If you won't behave then maybe you need some time alone."

She picked him up, ignoring his regretful whimper, and traipsed out of the bedroom, leaving Ms Wickleworth there. Sinclair wanted to bark again in protest, but thought the better of it and kept shut.

Prim placed him in the same room where he had first met Leah and walked out without a word. Fortunately, she did not lock the door.

There were times when Sinclair had practiced how to open unlocked doors, especially ones that weren't too far from high tables. Also, Matilde taught him a smart way to wedge a closing door – by using the rugs. Some rooms had floor rugs with softer textures than others, and usually, the softer ones were short. He could move the whole of it by biting and dragging on one end.

In a similar fashion, he dragged the rug and placed it near the door then began to bark aloud. No sooner had he started the noise than Prim returned.

"I don't know what you want, Sinclair, but shut it!" She ordered angrily. "I can't let my daughter wake up. You'll see Leah in the morning, alright?"

By then, her voice had softened again.

He understood that she was frustrated and hadn't meant to snap at him. Leah wasn't getting better, and it worried her more than it did anyone else. She let go of the door, which she had been leaning on, to leave again and it swung inward. But before it could shut, the rug formed a wedge in between it and the doorframe.

Sinclair waited until Prim's footsteps died out completely before squeezing out through the gap and made a beeline for Leah's bedroom.

Ms Wickleworth was just about to leave when he got there. He watched her as she swerved – about to shut the door and furtively raced through before she could realize it.

Once safely inside, he exhaled in relief.

Leah was fast asleep again. He quietly crawled next to her to watch her breathe. Albeit sick, she looked to be growing up fast because she was not as short as she had been when he first arrived.

For a few more hours, he played watchmen until his eyes drooped to a close.

In the morning, he woke with a frightening start when he found that Leah was gone. The sun filled the bedroom and made it shockingly bright, assaulting his eyes for a few seconds. He searched around the empty space in a sort of frenzy.

But it was only morning. The robber kidnappers couldn't have come and gone already, could they?

He wondered many things, his heart pounding inside his chest.

Just when he thought of leaving, Ms Wickleworth strolled in with Leah in her arms.

"Oh, you're awake too." She commented in a tone that proved she was still wary of him. "I don't know how you got in here last night, but Mrs Hopkins will make sure to keep you behind lock and key when she returns. It's strange that such a tiny dog could be so mischievous and sneaky. It's harmful for young Leah. Best keep your distance if you feel up to barking again."

Sinclair watched her tiptoe around him to get to Leah's bed. The latter was encased in a towel and her head rested against Wickleworth's shoulder. When the old lady turned to set her down, Leah's eyes met his own.

"Tinkel!" She squealed and began to cry.

Ms Wickleworth panicked a bit. "What is that? Eh, Leah? You want something?" She got up and retrieved all of Leah's toys to which Leah rejected and cried even louder.

Since nobody came rushing to her aid, Sinclair concluded that the day staff were all stashed somewhere minding their jobs. It was not their business if Leah cried until night fell. He watched Wickleworth battle with the frustration of not understanding what Leah kept requesting for. Her attempts to lotion the girl ended up in cosmetic spillages and a big mess on the bed.

Then, Sinclair climbed up to the bed and nestled close to Leah. Her wailing instantly died off and she wrapped both arms around his face. Her skin felt incredibly hot.

"Oh!" Wickleworth exclaimed in a small voice of realization. "You wanted the dog. I see now. Well," Her eyes darted from girl to animal. "That bit is cleared up, thank goodness. You can keep her company while I wipe up the mess here."

After the bed was tidy again, Wickleworth brought in Leah's breakfast. In that time, her face brightened more than Sinclair seen it a long while, and she laughed at the mess she made with the food, frustrating her nanny all over again.

"It's a good thing you're feeling much better now, Leah, but I wish you'd find some other way to crack yourself up than spitting your food at me." She heaved a sigh. "Christ's sake, she's one. Of course that's funny."

After the meal, Sinclair fetched the soft green ball and they passed it to each other in silence.

Then, the nanny came to pick him up for a bath, setting Leah off into a fit of wails.

"You've had your bath, Leah, let him have his." The nanny tried to reason, but Leah could barely hear above her screaming.

Sinclair wiggled out of Wickleworth's grip and allowed Leah hold onto him. She made to stand, but her legs wiggled and she fell back on her behind again, upsetting her. Before she could cry, he offered her the ball.

Luckily, Wickleworth had the idea to bring Leah along and kept her stationed safely by the bathroom door.

His breakfast came with its own problems when Leah tried to take a scoop out of it with her bare hand. It began to seem as if she was on a lookout for different ways to upset herself, and Sinclair slowly began to understand Wickleworth's frustration.

The real struggle came when it was nap time.

Even with him by her side, Leah refused to sleep, calling for her mummy.

Before the end of it all, Ms Wickleworth developed a terrible headache and had to go downstairs to ask Lucy for help.

"You have medications?" Lucy inquired as she cradled Leah on her shoulder, gently patting her back.

"Yes, I. . ." Wickleworth panted for breaths whilst uncorking a white medicine bottle. "I am recovering from an old fatigue syndrome. These keep the pains at a minimum."

"Is Mrs Hopkins aware of your medical condition?" Lucy asked. With how quiet Leah had become, it was an easy guess that she was asleep. At last.

"Yes, yes. I mentioned this to both Mr and Mrs Hopkins before my employment commenced. My medications won't clash with my work because I take them in the right doses, and also, it's been five months since I had any symptoms. The usual stress could kickstart a minor fatigue or a headache, but then again, that's what these are for."

She shook the bottle and the sound made Sinclair perk up because for a moment, he thought she was going to toss it across the room. He was so bored he could even settle for chasing a medicine bottle.

Lucy placed Leah down and returned to her station downstairs, leaving Ms Wickleworth to doze off on the couch.

Feeling alone, Sinclair bounded out of the mansion.

His intention was to pay Rosy a visit. Since his revelation last night, he could not help thinking that she might have fallen sick because after they left the hall she refused to run around again and walked as if she would faint any second. He hadn't even said goodbye to her before their departure. She was nowhere to be seen then.

But now, he wanted to talk to her about the kidnappers and what the two of them could do to stop the act.

Perhaps Rosy had been right.

Maybe telling Maxie would've been a great idea. He could have called for Rendezvous to discuss the issue. Altogether, the dogs stood better chance at actually drawing attention than just his singular attempt. All of a sudden, he began to regret not taking Rosy's advice. She was older and a lot smarter than he was and, without a doubt, her plan could have worked.

He just needed to speak to her first. There was still time to find a solution. They could both run to the Millers and be back with Maxie in five minutes.

But as Sinclair reached the front door, he noticed a vehicle driving into the compound. A blue van. It was plastered with a wraparound poster, like a mini billboard, advertising baby products and services. Bold words were written by the side of a baby's picture that he sorely found himself wishing Rosy was there to read and tell him what they said.

A stout man dressed in blue all the way to his shoes climbed out of the driver seat, holding a clipboard. He looked to have a partner sitting shotgun. As he strolled down the walkway, Lucy and two other staff came out just in time to meet him.

The man ran up to Lucy and politely held out a hand. She shook it. "Good morning, ma'am. Eric Donovan. We're from BabyBoom and Blues, BB&B for short – a new brand company for infants and toddlers just starting out. Here's our address."

He handed Lucy a white card. "Just for a bit of advertising for our brand, we're doing a promo for young ones in the neighborhood around the ages of 3 months to two years old. If there is none about, we will be on our way."

Sinclair frowned when he noticed the man in the shotgun seat, peering about the compound in a studious kind of way. He wished Lucy would chase the blue faker out because he was beginning to smell devious business about the man. Yet he could not recognize the strangers enough to bare teeth at them.

"Actually there's a year old kid. But she's really sick and fast asleep." Lucy provided, inspecting the business card.

The man appeared apologetic as he clasped both hands together. "Oh, that's very sad to hear. Well, we do not mind a sick or healthy baby, our promos cover all. We are handing out baby kits," He turned and beckoned to his partner. "In this case, a kit for a sweet year old girl along with our best wishes that she gets well real soon. Is it okay if I meet the parents?"

"Uh, both are currently absent." Lucy replied, her eyes taking in the van, and the man who approached with a lovely blue box in his hand.

"That's absolutely fine." Eric beamed. He received the box from his partner. "This is my advertising assistant, Owens, and here's a gift from BabyBoom and Blues for. . . May I know the toddler's name?"

"Leah."

"Lovely name. Well, we hope this brand satisfies Leah and she cries to her parents to come back for more else we go out of business."

Lucy and the staff behind her all laughed along with Eric.

"Thank you, this is very generous." Lucy said, inspecting the box. It had all kinds of eye-catching stickers and logos plastered all over it.

"We'll need you to sign here as proof that you have accepted a promo package from BabyBoom and Blues. Think of it as, kind of, an endorsement of sorts."

Lucy received the clipboard and pen, scribbled on it and handed it back to Eric.

He offered a handshake again. "Thank you so much, ma'am, for your time. Please, do extend our regards and wishes to Leah."

"I definitely will do that." Lucy beamed. "Thank you for dropping by."

"Have a good day!" Eric acknowledged the other staff members and retreated with a smile.

Sinclair watched the van drive out, feeling ominous. He had marked the faces of both strangers and the scent that hung about them because he knew, without a doubt, that the men could very well be part of the conspirators he'd seen at the party.

In that knowledge, he bolted straight for the Johnstone's mansion.