“I shouldn’t think you would like it.”
“I don’t; but she is going home to-morrow. I will tell you why I wished to procure Lenore’s aid again. I have succeeded in tracing Leesy Sullivan to this village. She came here the day after we frightened her from Brooklyn—that is, she got off the cars at a little station about six miles from here, not daring to land at this depot, and, I have no doubt, started on foot for Blankville, coming here in the night.”
“That aunt of hers is in the work,” I exclaimed. “We are justified in taking any step to compel her to own up where she conceals that girl.”
“I am convinced that her aunt knows nothing whatever about her. Has Mrs. Scott kept a sharp lookout at the villa?”
“She has not seen her since that first day; and I believe it would be difficult for her to set her foot on the place without being discovered, for the woman has got it into her head that the place is haunted, and she is on guard night and day.”
“Haunted?”
Mr. Burton sat down and drew up his chair with an appearance of interest, which led me to recount our experiences at the villa, and my intention of completing my researches that night, in his company, if he had no objection. He said, “Of course; it would give him pleasure; he liked nothing better than an adventure of the kind.”
In fact, the idea evidently pleased him immensely; his face brightened, and after that, for the rest of the day, for the first time in our brief acquaintance, I saw him a little flurried and expectant. One of his mottoes was:
“Learn to labor, and to wait.”
His was one of those minds which would have kept silence seven years, rather than speak a moment too soon; he was seldom in a hurry, no matter what was at stake; but the fancy for lying perdu in a haunted house, to “nab” a ghost, was a novelty in his detective experience, which inwardly amused him.