She took up the lamp and we followed her; up and along the garret staircase, mounting the narrow steps which led into the attic. There, upon the pile of mattresses which I have mentioned as lying in the corner, reposed the baby girl before spoken of, sleeping sweetly, as only infancy can rest. "We were under this when you paid us a visit the other day," said Leesy, with a sort of bitter smile. "I had hard work to keep baby from crying out. She did make a fuss at last; you said it was a cat." "How sound the little creature sleeps," said the detective. He had a gentle heart, which shrunk from disturbing the slumbering infant. "It's too bad to startle her up so," murmured her nurse. "Yes, it is. I'll tell you what we will do. We will lock you up here, and keep guard in the chamber until morning, if that pleases you." "I don't care to take Norah out in the storm." "Tell me one thing," said Mr. Burton, his bright eye fixing itself on her own; "are you the mother of that babe?" For a moment she answered his look with one of astonishment; then the rosy blood rushed up to neck, cheek and brow--a virgin blush, which showed all the soft and girlish side of her character. "Am I Norah's mother?" she repeated. "I thought you knew I was not a married woman." The detective stood, a little embarrassed by the perfect simplicity of her reply. "It is understood to be your deceased cousin's child--an orphan, I believe," he said. "Well, Miss Sullivan, we will leave you here, undisturbed, for the remainder of the night." We descended to the second floor, turning the key of the little store-room which inclosed the garret staircase, well satisfied to keep guard until morning, since we had secured the mysterious inmate of the haunted house. CHAPTER XIII. THE SHADOW ASSUMES SHAPE. We now lighted our lamp, and, finding a light cane sofa in the hall, nearly opposite the locked door, we took seats, and kept ourselves awake by talking. The storm had subsided into the monotonous patter of a steady rain. "I am surprised," said Mr. Burton, "that you did not at once comprehend the secret of this house. The moment you spoke the word 'haunted,' I knew how our investigations would end. It solved a mystery which has bothered me for some time. I knew that Leesy Sullivan was here, in this vicinity; the exact hiding-place was all I wanted to know; and when you mentioned Moreland villa, I said to myself, 'that's it!' All I was then afraid of was, that she would again elude us, before we could lay hands on her. And in fact," he added laughingly, "I hardly feel sure of her now. She may sublime through the ceiling before morning."