“Let me stay here to-night; I promise you I will not attempt to leave the place. I will wait here until you see fit to come in the morning.”
“I can not; there is too much at stake,” he said, with determination.
“Then let me go and get the child,” she said.
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?”