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Can't you see the
[To/ace/>. 35-
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
RICHARD MARSH
Author of
' The Beetle : a Mystery" ; " TheDuke and the Damsel'
" The Crime and the Criminal," Sfc, S .
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HAROLD PIFFARD
Xon&on
JAMES BOWDEN
lO, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C.
tory^
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. A NEW PUPIL ... I
II. there's a conscienxe . . 26
III. TWO LONE, LORN YOUNG WOMEN . 47
IV. IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT . . 60
V. A REPRESENTATIVE OF LAW AND
ORDER . . . .81
VI. THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE . 9 1
VII. BRUCE Graham's first client . 103
VIII. MADGE . . . AND THE PANEL . I23
IX. THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN . 1 38
X. MADGE FINDS HERSELF IN AN AWK-
WARD SITUATION . . 156
XI. UNDER THE SPELL . . -1 7'
470
iv CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
XII. TOM OSSINGTON's LAWYER . . l86
XIII. AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT 206
XIV. THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION . 220
XV. THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE 242
XVI. TWO VISITORS . . . . 261
XVII. THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE . 282
XVIII. MADGE APPLIES MORE STRENGTH , 295
XIX. THE WOMAN AND THE MAN . 3OI
XX. THE FORTUNE . . . 309
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
CHAPTER I
A NEW PUPIL
T^HE first of the series of curious happenings,
which led to such a surprising and, indeed,
extraordinary denouement, occurred on the
twelfth of October. It was a Monday ; about
four-thirty in the afternoon. Madge Brodie
was alone in the house. The weather was dull,
a suspicion of mist was in the air, already the
day was drawing in.
Madge was writing away with might and
main, hard at work on one of those MSS.
with which she took such peculiar pains ; and
with which the editors for whom they were
destined took so little. If they would only
take a little more — enough to read them
TOM OSSINGTOiV'S GHOST
through, say — Madge felt sure they would
not be so continually returned. Her pen went
tearing away at a gallop — it had reached the
last few lines — they were finished. She turned
to glance at the clock which was on the mantel-
shelf behind her.
" Gracious ! — I had no idea it was so late.
Ella will be home in an hour, and there is
nothing in the place for her to eat ! "
She caught up the sheets of paper, fastened
them together at the corner, crammed them
into an envelope, scribbled a note, crammed
it in after them, addressed the envelope, closed
it, jumped up to get her hat, just as there came
a rat-tat-tat at the hall-door knocker.
" Now, who's that ? I wonder if it is that
Miss Brice come for her lesson after all — three
hours late. It will be like her if it is — but she
sha'n't have it now. We'll see if she shall."
She caught up her hat from the couch,
perched it on her head, pushed a pin through
the crown.
2
A NEW PUPIL
" If she sees that I am just going out, I should
think that even she will hardly venture to ask
me to give her a lesson three hours after the
time which she herself appointed."
As she spoke she was crossing the little
passage towards the front door.
It was not Miss Brice — it was a man. A
man, too, who behaved somewhat oddly. No
sooner had Madge opened the door, than
stepping into the tiny hall, without waiting for
any sort of invitation, taking the handle from
her hand, he shut it after him with considerably
more haste than ceremony. She stared, while
he leaned against the wall as if he was i^hort of
breath.
He was tall ; she only reached to his
shoulder, and she was scarcely short. He was
young — there was not a hair on his face. He
was dressed in blue serge, and when he removed
his felt hat he disclosed a well-shaped head
covered with black hair, cut very short, with
the apparent intention of getting the better
3
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
of its evident tendency to curl at the tips.
His marked feature, at that moment, was his
obvious discomposure. He did not look
as if he was a nervous sort of person ; yet,
just then, the most bashful bumpkin could not
have seemed more ill at ease. Madge was at
a loss what to make of him.
" I'm feeling a little faint."
The words were stammered out, as if with
a view of explaining the singularity of his
bearing — yet he did not appear to be the kind
of individual who might be expected to feel
" a little faint," unless nature belied her own
handwriting. The strength and constitution
of a Samson was written large all over him.
It seemed to strike him that his explanation —
such as it was — was a little lame, so he
stammered something else.
" You give music lessons .? "
" Yes, we do give music lessons — at least,
I do."
" You ? Oh !— You do ? "
4
A NEW PUPIL
His tone implied — or seemed to imply — that
her appearance was hardly consistent with that
of a giver of music lessons. She drew herself
a little up.
*' I do give music lessons. Have you been
recommended by one of my pupils } "
She cast her mind over the scanty list to
ascertain which of them might be likely to
give such a recommendation. His stumbling
answer saved her further trouble on that
score.
" No, I — I saw the plate on the gate, so I —
I thought I'd just come in and ask you to give
me one."
" Give you a music lesson } "
"Yes, if you wouldn't mind."
" But " — she paused, hardly knowing what to
say. She had never contemplated giving
lessons to pupils of this description. " I never
have given lessons to a — gentleman. I supposed
they always went to professors of their own
sex."
5
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Do they ? I don't know. I hope you
don't mind making an exception in my case.
I — I'm so fond of music." Suddenly he
changed the subject. " This is Clover
Cottage ? "
" Yes, this is Clover Cottage."
" Are you — pardon me — but are you Miss
Ossington } "
" Ossington ^ No — that is not my name."
" But doesn't some one of that name live
here.?"
*' No one. I never heard it before. I think
there must be some mistake."
She laid her hand on the latch — by way of
giving him a hint to go. He prevented her
opening it, placing his own hand against the
door ; courteously, yet unmistakably.
" Excuse me — but I hope you will give me a
lesson ; if it is only of a quarter of an hour,
to try what I can do — to see if it would be
worth your while to have me as a pupil. I have
been long looking for an opportunity of taking
6
A NEW PUPIL
lessons, and when I saw your plate on the gate
I jumped at the chance."
She hesitated. The situation was an odd
one — and yet she had already been for some
time aware that young women who are righting
for daily bread have not seldom to face odd
situations. Funds were desperately low. She
had to contribute her share to the expenses of
the little household, and that share was in arrear.
Of late MSS. had been coming back more
monotonously than ever. Pupils — especially
those who were willing to pay possible prices —
were few and far between. Who was she, that
she should turn custom from the door } It was
nothing that this was a stranger — all her pupils
were strangers at the beginning ; most of them
were still strangers at the end. Men, she had
heard, pay better than women. She might take
advantage of this person's sex to charge him
extra terms — even to the extent of five shillings
a lesson instead of half a crown. It was an
opportunity she could not afford to lose. She
7
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
resolved to at least go so far as to learn exactly
what it was he wanted ; and then if, from any
point of view, it seemed advisable, to make an
appointment for a future date.
She led the way into the sitting room — he
following.
"Are you quite a beginner ? " she asked.
" No, not — not altogether."
" Let me see what you can do."
She went to a pile of music which was on a
little table, for the purpose of selecting a piece
of sufficient simplicity to enable a tyro to
display his powers, or want of them. He was
between her and the window. In passing the
window he glanced through it. As he did so,
he gave a sudden start — a start, in fact, which
amounted to a positive jump. His hat dropped
from his hand, and, wholly regardless that he
was leaving it lying on the floor, he hurried
backwards, keeping in the shadow, and as far as
possible from the window. The action was so
marked that it was impossible it should go
8
A NEW PUPIL
unnoticed. It filled Madge Brodle with a sense
of shock which was distinctly disagreeable.
Her eyes, too, sought the window — it looked
out on to the road. A man, it struck her, of
emphatically sinister appearance, was loitering
leisurely past. As she looked he stopped dead,
and, leaning over the palings, stared intently
through the window. It was true that the
survey only lasted for a moment, and that then
he shambled off again, but the thing was
sufficiently conspicuous to be unpleasant.
So startled was she by the connection which
seemed to exist between the fellow's insolence
and her visitor's perturbation that, without
thinking of what she was doing, she placed the
first piece she came across upon the music-stand
— saying, as she did so :
" Let me see what you can do with this."
Her words were unheeded. Her visitor was
drawing himself into an extreme corner of the
room, in a fashion which, considering his size
and the muscle which his appearance suggested,
9
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
was, in its way, ludicrous. It was not, however,
the ludicrous side which occurred to Madge ; his
uneasiness made her uneasy too. She spoke a
little sharply, as if involuntarily.
" Do you hear me ? Will you be so good as
to try this piece, and let me see what you can
make of it."
Her words seemed to rouse him to a sense of
misbehaviour.
" I beg your pardon ; I am afraid you will
think me rude, but the truth is, I — I have been
a little out of sorts just lately." He came
briskly towards the piano ; glancing however,
as Madge could not help but notice, nervously
through the window as he came. The man
outside was gone ; his absence seemed to re-
assure him. " Is this the piece you wish me to
play .? I will do my best."
He did his best — or, if it was not his best,
his best must have been something very remark-
able indeed.
The piece she had selected — unwittingly —
A NEW PUPIL
was a Minuet of Mozart's. A dainty trifle ; a
pitfall for the inexperienced ; seeming so simple,
yet needing the soul, and knowledge, of a
virtuoso to make anything of it at all. Hardly
the sort of thing to set before a seeker after
music lessons, whose acquaintance with music,
for all she knew, was limited to picking out the
notes upon the keyboard. At her final exami-
nation she herself had chosen it, first because she
loved it, and, second, because she deemed it to
be something which would enable her to illustrate
her utmost powers at their very best.
It was only when he struck the first few
notes that she realised what it was she had put in
front of him ; when she did, she was startled.
Whether he understood what the piece was
there for — that he was being set to play it as an
exhibition of his ignorance rather than of his
knowledge — was difficult to say. It is quite
possible that in the preoccupation of his mind
it had escaped him altogether that the sole
excuse for his presence in that room lay in
II
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
the fact that he was seeking lessons from
this young girl. There could be no doubt
whatever that at least one of the things that
he had said of himself was true, and that he
did love music ; there could be just as little
doubt that he already was a musician of a
quite unusual calibre — one who had been both
born and made.
He played the delicate fragment with an
exquisite art which filled Madge Brodie with
amazement. She had never heard it played like
that before — never ! Not even by her own
professor. Perhaps her surprise was so great
that, in the first flush of it, she exaggerated the
player's powers.
It seemed to her that this man played like
one who saw into the very depths of the com-
poser's soul, and who had all the highest
resources of his art at his command to enable
him to give a perfect — an ideal — rendering.
Such an exquisite touch ! such masterly
fingering ! such wondrous phrasing ! such
A NEW PUPIL
light and shade ! such insight and such
execution ! She had not supposed that her
cheap piano had been capable of such celestial
harmony. She listened spellbound — for she,
too, had imagination, and she, too, loved music.
All was forgotten in the moment's rapture — in
her delight at hearing so unexpectedly sounding
in her ears, what seemed to her, in her excite-
ment, the very music of the spheres. The
player seemed to be as oblivious of his
surroundings as Madge Brodie — his very being
seemed wrapped up in the ecstasy of producing
the quaint, sweet music for the stately old-time
measure.
When he had finished, the couple came back
to earth, with a rush.
With an apparent burst of recollection his
hands came off the keyboard, and he wheeled
round upon the music-stool with an air of
conscience-stricken guilt. Madge stood close
by, actually quivering with a conflict of
emotions. He met her eyes — instantly to
13
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
avert his own. There was silence — then a
slight tremor in her voice in spite of her effort
to prevent it.
" I suppose you have been having a little jest
at my expense."
"A jest at your expense } "
" I daresay that is what you call it — though I
believe in questions of humour there is room
for wide differences of opinion. I should call
it something else."
" I don't understand you." ^
" That is false."
At this point-blank contradiction, the blood
showed through his sallow cheeks,
" False .? "
"Yes, false. You do understand me. Did
you not say that you had been for some time
seeking for an opportunity to take lessons
in music } "
" I— I "
Confronted by her red-hot accusatory glances,
he stammered, stumbled, stopped.
14
A NEW PUPIL
" Yes ? — go on."
" I have been seeking such an opportunity."
" Indeed } And do you wish me to suppose
that you believed that you — you — could be
taught anything in music by an unknown
creature who fastened a plate announcing
lessons in music, to the palings of such a
place as this } "
He was silent — looking as if he would
have spoken, but could not. She went on :
*' I thank you for the pleasure you have
given me — the unexpected pleasure. It is a
favourite piece of mine which you have just
performed — I say ' performed ' advisedly. I
never heard it better played by any one —
never ! and I never shall. You are a great
musician. I } — I am a poor teacher of the
rudiments of the art in which you are such
an adept. I am obliged by your suggestion
that I should give you lessons. I regret
that to do so is out of my power. You
already play a thousand times better than I
15
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
ever shall — I was just going out as you came
in. I must ask you to be so good as to
permit me to go now."
He rose from the music stool — towering
above her higher and higher. From his
altitude he looked down at her for some
seconds in silence. Then, in his deep bass
voice, he began, as it seemed, to excuse
himself.
" Believe me "
She cut him short.
" I believe nothing — and wish to believe
nothing. You had reasons of your own for
coming here ; what they were I do not know,
nor do I seek to know. All I desire is that
you should take yourself away."
He stooped to pick up his hat. Rising with
it in his hand, he glanced towards the window.
As he did so, the man who had leaned over the
palings came strolling by again. The sight of
this man filled him with his former uneasiness.
He retreated further back into the room — all
i6
A NEW PUPIL
but stumbling over Miss Brodie in his haste.
In a person of his physique the agitation he
displayed was pitiful. It suggested a degree of
cowardice which nothing in his appearance
seemed to warrant.
" I — I beg your pardon — but might I ask
you a favour .'' "
" A favour } What is it .'' "
" I will be frank with you. I am being
watched by a person whose scrutiny I wish to
avoid. Because I wished to escape him was one
reason why I came in here."
Madge went to the window. The man in
the road was lounging lazily along with an air
of indifference which was almost too marked to
be real. He gave a backward glance as he
went. At sight of Madge he quickened his
pace.
" Is that the man who is watching you } "
" Yes, I — I fancy it is."
" You fancy .? Don't you know } "
" It is the man."
17 c
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" He is shorter than you — smaller altogether.
Compared to you he is a dwarf. Why ai'e you
afraid of him ^ "
Either the question itself, or the tone in
which it was asked, brought the blood back
into his cheeks,
" I did not say I was afraid."
" No .? Then if you are not afraid, why
should you have been so anxious to avoid him
as to seek refuge, on so shallow a pretext, in
a stranger's house ^ "
The intruder bit his lip. His manner was
sullen.
" I regret that the circumstances which have
brought me here are of so singular and com-
plicated a character as to prevent my giving
you the full explanation to which you may
consider yourself entitled. I am sorry that
I should have sought refuge beneath your roof
as I own I did ; and the more so as I am
compelled to ask you another favour — per-
mission to leave that refuge by means of the
back door."
i8
A NEIF PUPIL
She twirled round on her heels and faced
him.
" The back door ! "
" I presume there is a back door ? "
" Certainly — only it leads to the front."
Again he bit his lip. His temper did not
seem to be improving. The girl's tone, face,
bearing, were instinct with scorn.
" Is there no means of getting away by the
back without returning to the front ^ "
"Only by climbing a hedge and a fence on
to the common."
" Perhaps the feat will be within my powers
— if you v/ill allow me to try."
" Allow you to try ! And is it possible that
you forced your way into the house on the
pretence of seeking lessons in music, when your
real motive was to seek an opportunity of
evading pursuit by means of the back door ^ "
"I am aware that the seeming anomaly of
my conduct entitles you to think the worst
of me."
19
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Seeming anomaly ! " She laughed con-
temptuously. " Pray, sir, permit me to lead
the way — to the back door."
She strode off, with her head in the air ; he
came after, with a brow as black as night. At
the back door they paused.
" I thank you for having afforded me shelter,
and apologise for having sought it."
She looked him up and down, as if she were
endeavouring, by mere force of visual inspec-
tion, to make out what kind of a man he
was.
" I want to ask you a question. Answer it
truthfully, if you can. Is the man in front
a policeman ^ "
He started with what seemed genuine
surprise.
" A policeman ! Good heavens, no."
"Are you sure .^ "
" Of course I'm sure. He's very far from
being a policeman — rather, if anything, the
other way." What he meant to infer, she did
A NEW PUPIL
not know ; but he laughed shortly, " What
makes you ask such a thing ? "
She was holding the door open in her hand.
He had crossed the threshold and stood without.
Malice — and something else — gleamed in her
eyes.
*' Because," she answered, " I wondered if
you were a thief."
With that she slammed the door in his face
and turned the key. Then, slipping into the
kitchen which was on her left, keeping the door
on the jar, remaining well in the shadow, she
watched his proceedings through the window.
For a moment he stayed where she had left
him standing, as if rooted to the spot. Then,
with an exaggerated courtesy, taking off his
hat, he bowed to the door. Turning, he
marched down the garden path, his tall figure
seeming more gigantic than ever as she noted
how straight he held himself. In a twinkling
he was over the fence and hedge. Once on the
other side, he shook his fist at Clover Cottage.
21
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
The watcher in the kitchen clenched her
teeth as she perceived the gesture.
" Ungrateful creature ! And to think that
a man who has the very spirit of music in his
soul, and who plays the piano like an angel,
should be such a wretch ! That a monster
seven feet high, who looks like a combination
of Samson and Goliath rolled into one, should
be such a coward and a cur — afraid of a pigmy
five foot high ! I hope I've seen the last of
him. If I have any more such pupils I shall
have to shut up shop. Now perhaps I shall
be allowed to post my MS. and run across to
Brown's to get a chop for Ella's tea."
With that she passed from the back to the
front. Outside the front door she paused to
look around her and take her bearings,
half doubtful as to whether any more dubious
strangers might not be in sight.
The only person to be seen was the man
whose presence had proved so disconcerting to
her recent visitor. He had reached the corner
22
A NEW PUPIL
of the street, and, turning, strolled slowly back
towards Clover Cottage. He gave one quick,
shifty glance at her as she came out, but beyond
that he took — or appeared to take — no notice
of her appearance.
" Now, I wonder," she said to herself, " who
you may be. Your friend, who, for all I know,
is now running for his life across the common,
said you were no policeman — and, I am bound
to say, you don't look as if you were ; he
added that, if anything, you were rather the
other way. If, by that, he meant you were a
thief, I'm free to admit you look your pro-
fession to the life. I wonder if it would be
safe to run across to Brown's while you're
about ; — not that I'm afraid of you, as I'll prove
to your entire satisfaction if you only let me
have the chance. Only you seem to be one of
those agreeable creatures who, if they are only
sure that a house is empty, and there's not even
a girl inside, can enact to perfection the part
of area sneak ; and neither Ella nor I wish
23
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
to lose any of the few possessions which we
have."
While she hesitated a curious scene took
place — a scene in which the gentleman on the
prowl played a leading role.
The road in which Clover Cottage stood was
bisected on the right and left by other streets,
within a hundred yards of the house itself.
On reaching the corner of the street on the
left, the gentleman on the prowl, as we have
seen, had performed a right-about-face, and
returned to the cottage. As he advanced, a
woman came round the corner of the street,
upon the right. He saw her the instant she
appeared, and the sight had on him an
astonishing effect. He stopped, as if petrified ;
stared, as if the eyes were starting from his
head ; gave a great gasp ; turned ; tore off
like a hunted animal ; dashed round the corner
on the left ; and vanished out of sight.
Having advanced to within a few feet of where
Madge was standing, she was a close spectator
24
A NEW PUPIL
of his singular behaviour. As she looked to
see what had been the exciting cause, half
expecting that her recent visitor had come back
and that the tables had been turned, and the
gentleman on the prowl had played the coward
in his turn, the woman who had come round
the other corner had already reached the
cottage. Pushing the gate unceremoniously
open, she strode straight past Madge, and,
without a with-your-leave or by-your-Ieave,
marched through the open door into the hall
beyond.
As Madge eyed her with mingled surprise
and indignation she exclaimed, with what
seemed unnecessary ferocity —
" I've come to see the house."
25
CHAPTER II
there's a conscience !
"lyyrADGE had been taken so wholly un-
awares that for a moment she remained
stock-still — and voiceless. Then she followed
the woman to the door.
" You have come to do what ? "
" I've come to see the house."
" And pray who are you ? "
" What affair is that of yours ? Don't I
tell you I've come to see the house ? "
*' But I don't understand you. What do
you mean by saying you've come to see the
house .'' "
For only answer the woman, turning her
back on her, walked another step or two along
26
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE !
the little passage. She exclaimed, as if address-
ing the staircase, which was in front of her,
in what seemed a tone of intense emotion —
" How his presence is in all the place !
How he fills the air ! "
Madge felt more bewildered than she would
have cared to admit. Was the woman mad }
Mad or sane, she resolved that she would not
submit tamely to such another irruption as
the last. She laid her hand upon the woman's
shoulder.
*' Will you be so good as to tell me, at
once, to whom I have the pleasure of speaking,
and what business has brought you here } "
The woman turned and looked at her ; as
she did so, Madge was conscious of a curious
sense of discomfort.
She was of medium height, slender build,
and apparently between forty and fifty years
of age. Her attire was not only shabby, it
was tawdry to the last degree. Her garments
were a heterogeneous lot ; one might safely
27
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
swear they had none of them been made for
the wearer. One and all were shockhig
examples of outworn finery. The black chip
hat which she wore perched on her head, with
an indescribable sort of would-be jauntiness,
was broken at the brim, and the one-time
gorgeous ostrich feathers were crushed and
soiled. A once well-cut cape of erstwhile dark
blue cloth was about her shoulders. It was
faded, stained, and creased. The fur which
had been used to adorn the edges was bare
and rusty. It had been lined with silk — as
she moved her arms one perceived that of
the lining there was nothing left but rags and
tatters. Her dress, once the latest fashionable
freak in some light-hued flimsy silk, had Jong
since been fit for nothing else than cutting into
dusters. She wore ancient patent-leather shoes
upon her feet, and equally ancient gloves upon
her hands — the bare flesh showing through
holes in every finger.
If her costume was strange, her face was
28
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE!
stranger. It was the face of a woman who
had once been beautiful — how long ago, no
one who chanced on her haphazard could
with any certainty have guessed. It might
have been five, ten, fifteen, twenty years ago
— and more than that — since hers had been
a countenance which charmed even a casual
beholder. It was the face of a woman who
had been weak or wicked, and maybe both,
and who in consequence had been bandied
from pillar to post, till this was all that there
was left of her. Her big blue eyes were deep
set in careworn caverns ; her mouth, which
had once been small and dainty, was now
blurred and pendulous, the mouth of a woman
who drank ; her cheeks were sunk and hollow
as if she had lost every tooth in her head, the
cheek-bones gleaming through the yellow skin
in sharp and cruel ridges. To crown it all,
her hair was dyed — a vivid yellow. Like all
the rest of her, the dye was old and worn. It
stood in urgent need of a renewal. The roots
29
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
were grey, they demonstrated their greyness
with savage ostentation. Here and there
among the yellow there were grey patches too
— in some queer way her attempt at juven-
esence had made her look older even than she
was.
This was not a pleasant face to have en-
countered anywhere at any time, being the
sort from which good women instinctively
shrink back. Just now its unpleasantness
was intensified by the fact that it was lit up
by some, to Madge, inscrutable emotion ; in-
flamed by some mastering excitement. The
hollow eyes gleamed as if they were lighted
by inner fires ; the lips twitched as if the
muscles which worked them were uncontroll-
able. The woman spoke in short, sharp, angry
gusts, as if she were stumbling on the verge
of frenzied passion.
" This house is mine," she said.
'* Yours.?"
" It was his, and mine — and now it's mine."
so
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE!
Madge, persuaded that the woman must be
either mad or drunk, felt that perhaps calm-
ness might be her safest weapon.
" Do you mean that you're the landlady ? "
" The landlady ! " The woman laughed —
unmirthfully. "There is no landlady. And
the landlord — he's a ghost. He's in it now
— don't you feel that he is in it .? "
She spoke with such singular intensity that,
in spite of herself, Madge shuddered. She
was feeling more and more uncomfortable —
wishing heartily that some one might come, if
it was only the mysterious stranger who had
previously intruded.
The woman went on — her excitement seem-
ing to grow with every word she uttered.
" The house is full of ghosts — full !
They're in every corner, every nook and
cranny — and I know them every one. Come
here — I'll show you some of them."
She caught the girl by the arm. Madge,
yielding to her strange frenzy, suffered her-
31
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
self to be led into the sitting-room. Once
inside, the woman loosed her hold. She
looked about her. Then crossed to the fire-
place, standing in the centre of the hearth-
rug.
'' This is where I struck him." She pointed
just in front of her. " He was sitting there.
I had asked him for some money. He would
not let me have any. He always clung to
his money — always ! I swear it — always ! "
She raised her hands, as if appealing to the
ceiling to bear her witness. " He said that
I was ruining him. Ruining him ^ bah ! I
knew better than that. He would let no one
ruin him — he was not of that kind. I told
him I must have money. He said he'd given
me five pounds last week. ' Five pounds ! '
I cried ; ' what are five pounds ? ' Then we
quarrelled — he said things, I said things.
Then I flew into a rage ; my temper has been
the curse of my whole life. I caught up a
decanter of whisky which was on the table,
32
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE!
and struck him with it on the head. The
bottle broke, the whisky went all over him —
how it smelt ! Can't you smell it ? — and he
went tumbling down, down, on to the floor.
He's lying there now — can't you see him
lying there .^" She turned to Madge with a
gesture which seemed to make the girl's blood
run colder. " Can't you see the ghost } "
She moved a little to one side.
" Just here is where I knelt down, and
asked him to forgive me. That was after —
I'd been carrying on with some fellow I'd met
at a dance, and he had found me out. I cried
and cried as if my heart would break, and at
last he came and put his hand upon my head
— when I set myself to do it, and stuck at
it, I could twist him round my finger ! — and
he began to stroke my hair — I'd lovely hair
then, no woman ever had lovelier, and he was
always one to stroke it when I'd let him ! —
and he said, ' My girl, how often shall I have
to forgive you } ' Listen ! Can't you hear
33 D
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
him saying it now ? Can't you see the
ghost ? "
She went to where the modest sideboard
stood.
" This is where we had our sideboard too —
it was a bigger one than this; all our things
were good. I was standing here, leaning
against it just like this, the first time he saw
me drunk. He'd been out all the evening
on some sort of business, and I'd been left
in the house alone with the girl, and I hadn't
liked it, and I'd been sulking. And at last
I got to the whisky and I started to drink,
drink, drink. I always had been fond of
drink long before that, but I'd never let him
find it out. But that time I was that sulky
I didn't seem to care, and by the time I
might have cared I couldn't care — I was too
far gone. I had to keep on drinking. There
wasn't much in the bottle ; when I got to the
end of it I started on another. Then I got
to the sideboard, and stood leaning over it,
34
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE!
lolly fashion, booze, booze, boozing. All of
a sudden the door opened, and he came into
the room. I turned to have a look at him,
the bottle in one hand and the glass in the
other. Directly I got clear of the sideboard
I went flop on the floor, and the bottle and
the glass went with me, and there I had to lie.
He rushed towards me, and as soon as he had
had a look at me he saw how it was. Then
he fell on his knees at my side, and put his
hands up to his face, and began to cry. My
God, how he did cry ! — not like me. His
sobs seemed tearing him to pieces, and his
life's blood seemed coming from him with
every tear. Drunk as I was, it made me cry
to hear him. Listen ! Can't you hear him
crying now } Can't you see the ghost ^ "
The woman's words and manner were so
realistic, and despite — or perhaps because of —
her seeming frenzy, she had such an eerie
capacity of conjuring up the picture as her
memory painted it, that Madge listened spell-
35
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
bound. She was as incapable of interrupting
the other's flow of language as if the conscience
haunted wretch had cast on her some strange
enchantment.
The sea of visions went to the table, and,
bending over it, beckoned to Madge to draw
closer. As if she found the invitation irresistible,
Madge approached. The woman's outstretched
finger pointed to a particular place about the
centre of one side of the table. Her excitement
all at once subsided ; her voice grew softer.
Her manner became more human, more
womanly.
" See ! — this is where my little baby died —
my little child — the only one I ever had. It
was a girl ; we called it Lily — my name's Lily "
— she glanced up with a grin, as if conscious of
how grotesquely inappropriate, in her case, such
a name was now ; " it was such a little thing — I
didn't want it when it came. I never was fond
of children, and I wasn't one to play the mother.
But, when it did come, it got hold of me some-
36
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE f
how — yes, it did ! it did ! I was fond of it, in
my way. As for him, he worshipped it ; it was
baby, baby, baby ! all the time. I was nowhere.
It made me wild to hear him, and to see the
way that he went on. We fell out because I
would have it brought up by hand. He wanted
me to let it have my milk — but I wouldn't have
it. I wasn't going to be any baby's slave — not
likely ! I don't think he ever forgave me that.
Then he was always at me because he said I
neglected it ; and that made me worse than
ever : I wasn't going to have a crying brat thrust
down my throat at every turn, and so I told
him. ' Why isn't there a place in which they
bring up babies so that they needn't worry their
mothers .? ' I wanted to know. When I said
that, how he did look at me, and how he went
on ! I thought he would have killed me — but I
didn't care. He did his share of all the nursing
that baby ever had — and perhaps a little more."
Again the woman laughed.
" At last the little thing went wrong. It
37
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
always was small ; it never seemed to grow —
except thin. It was the queerest looking little
mite, with a serious face like a parson's, and
great big eyes which seemed to go right through
you, as if it was looking at something which
nobody but itself could see. He would have it
that it got worse and worse, but he was always
making such a fuss that I said he was making a
fool of the child. The doctor came and came,
but I was pretty often out, and when I wasn't I
didn't always choose to see him, so I only heard
what he cared to tell me — and I didn't believe
the half of that.
" One night I went to a masked ball with
Mrs. Sutton — she was a larky one, she was, and
led her husband a pretty dance. It was latish
when I came back ; I hadn't enjoyed myself
one bit, and left in a temper and came off home
by myself I let myself in at the front door,
and when I came into this room, on the table
just here" — she pointed with her finger — "there
was a pillow, and on the pillow was the baby,
38
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE!
and he was kneeling on the floor in front, his
elbows on the table, and his face on his hands,
and the tears streaming down his cheeks as if
they'd never stop. I'd been to the ball as a
ballet girl — though he hadn't known it, and I
hadn't meant that he should, but the sight took
me so aback that, without thinking, I dropped
my cloak and stood before him just as I was.
' What's the matter now ? ' I cried ; ' what's the
child down here at this time of the night for ^ '
I expected that he'd let fly at me, and perhaps
send me packing out of the house right there
and then. But, instead, he just glanced my way
as if he hardly saw me, or wanted to, and said,
' Baby's dying.' When he said that, it was as
if he had run something right into my heart.
' Dying,' I cried, ' stuff ! ' I ran to the table
and bent over the pillow. I had never seen
anybody dying before, and knew nothing at all
about it, but directly I looked at it, I seemed to
know that what he said was true, and that the
child was dying. My heart stopped beating —
39
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak, I couldn't
move, I could only stare like a creature who
had lost her wits — it was as if a hand had been
stretched right out of Heaven to strike me a
blow. There he was on one side of the table —
and there was me leaning right over the other,
both of us motionless, neither of us speaking a
word ; and there was the baby lying on the pillow
between us, stiller than we were. How long
we stopped like that I don't know ; it seemed
to me as if it was hours — but I daresay it was
only a few minutes. All at once the baby — my
baby — gave a little movement with its little
arms — a sort of trembling. He moved his arm,
and put one of his fingers into its tiny hand ;
the baby seemed to fasten on to it. ' Give it
o;ie of your fingers,' he said, sobbing as if his
heart would break. ' It'll like to feel your
finger as it goes ! ' Hardly knowing what I
was doing, I stretched out one of my fingers ;
it was the first finger of my right hand — this
one," She held up the finger in question in its
40
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE!
ragged casing. " And 1 put it in the mite's wee
hand. It took it — yes, it took it. It closed
its fingers right round it, and gave it quite a
squeeze — yes, quite a squeeze. Then it loosened
its hold. It was dead. Dead upon the pillow.
— And it's there now. Can't you see it lying
on the pillow, with a smile on its face } a smile !
Can't you see the ghost } "
Stooping, the woman made pretence to kiss
the lips of some one who was lying just beneath
her. It might have been that to her the thing
was no pretence, and that, as in a vision, the
dead lips did indeed touch hers. Then, drawing
herself erect again, she broke into another of
her discordant laughs. Throwing out her arms
on either side of her, she exclaimed in strident
tones :
" Ghosts ! Ghosts ! The place is full of
them — I see them everywhere. I touch them,
hear them all the time. They've been with me
all through the years, wherever I've been — and
where haven't I been .? My God — in heaven
41
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
and hell ! crowds and crowds of them, more
and more as the years went on. And do you
think that I can't see them here — in their
house, and mine ! Can't you see them too ?"
Madge replied between set lips — she had
been forming her own conclusions while the
woman raved :
" No, I do not see them. Nor would you
were you not under the influence of drink."
The woman stared at her in what seemed
genuine surprise.
" Under the influence of drink ! Me .? No
such luck ! I wish I were." Again she gave
one of those bursts of laughter which so jarred
on Madge's nerves. " When I'm drunk I can't
see ghosts — it's only when I'm sober. I've
had nothing to eat since I don't know when,
let alone to drink. I'm starving, starving !
That's the time when I see ghosts. They point
at me with their fingers and say, ' Look at us
and look at you — this is what it's come to ! '
They make me see what might have been. He
42
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE !
made me come to-day ; I didn't want to, but he
made me. And now he's in all the house. —
Listen ! He's getting out of bed in the room
upstairs — that's his bedroom. Can't you hear
his lame foot moving about the floor ^ How
often I've thrown that lame foot in his face
when I've been wild ! — can't you hear it hobble
—hobble .? "
" You are mad ! How dare you talk such
nonsense ^ There's no one in the house but
you and I."
The woman seemed to believe so implicitly
in the diseased imaginings of her conscience-
haunted brain, that Madge felt that unless she
made a resolute effort her own mental equili-
brium might totter. On the other's face there
came a look of shrewd, malignant cunning.
"Isn't there! That's all you know, — I'm
no more mad than you are. And I tell you
what — he's not the only thing that's in the
house. There's something else as well. It was
his, and now it's mine. And don't you think
to rob me."
43
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Rob you ? — I."
" Yes, you. There's others after it as well
as you — I know ! Fm not the simpleton that
some may think. But I won't be robbed by
all the lot of you — you make no error. It was
his, and now it's mine."
" If there really is anything in the house to
which you have the slightest shadow of a claim,
which I very much doubt, and let me know
what it is, and where it is, I'll see that you have
it without fail."
A look of vacancy came on the woman's face.
She passed her hand across her brow.
" That's it — I don't know just where it is.
He comes and tells me, almost, but never quite.
He says it's in the house, but he doesn't say
exactly where. But he never lies — so I do
know it's in the house, and I won't be robbed."
" I have not the slightest idea of what you
mean — if you really do mean anything at all.
I don't know if you know me — or are under
the impression that I know you ; if so, I can
44
THERE'S A CONSCIENCE !
only assure you that I don't. I have not the
faintest notion who you are."
The woman, drawing nearer, clutched Madge's
arm with both her hands.
" Don't you know who I am ? I'm the
ghost's wife ! "
Her manner was not only exceedingly un-
pleasant ; it was, in a sense, uncanny — so
uncanny that, in spite of herself, Madge could
not help a startled look coming into her face.
The appearance of this look seemed to amuse
her tormentor. She broke into a continuous
peal of unmelodious laughter.
" I'm the ghost's wife ! " she kept repeating.
"I'm the ghost's wife."
Madge Brodie prided herself on her strength
of nerve, and as, a rule, not without cause. But,
on that occasion, almost for the first time in her
life it played her false. She would have been
glad to have been able to scream and flee ; but
she was incapable even of doing that. The
other seemed to hold her spellbound ; she was
45
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
conscious that her senses were reeling — that, un-
less something happened soon, she would faint.
But from that final degradation she was
saved.
" Madge," exclaimed a voice, " who is this
woman ? "
It was Ella Duncan, and with her was Jack
Martyn. At the sound of the voice, the
woman released her hold. Never before had
Madge been sensible of such a spasm of relief.
She rushed to Ella with a hysterical sob.
" Oh, Ella !" she cried, " how thankful I am
you've come."
Ella looked at her with surprise.
" Madge ! — who is this woman .^ "
The woman in question spoke for herself.
She threw up her arms.
" I'm the ghost's wife ! " she shrieked, "I'm
the ghost's wife !"
Before they had suspected her purpose, or
could say anything to stop her, she had rushed
out of the room and from the house.
46
CHAPTER III
TWO LONE, LORN YOUNG WOMEN
Tl LLA and Jack eyed each other. Madge
took refuge in a chair, conscious of a
feeling of irritation at her weakness now that
the provocation had passed. Ella regarded her
curiously.
" What's the matter with you, Madge ?
What's happened ? "
" It's nothing — only that horrible woman
has upset me."
" Who is she ? and what's she been doing ?
and what's she want ? "
" I don't know who she is, or what she
wants, or anything at all about her. I only
47
7'OM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
know that she's prevented me getting anything
for your tea."
" That's all right — we've got something,
haven't we, Jack ? " Jack waved a parcel.
" But whatever did you let such an extra-
ordinary-looking creature into the house for.''
and whatever did she mean by screaming out
that she's a ghost's wife.^ Is she very mad.^ "
" I think she is — and I didn't let her in."
Then, while they were preparing tea, the tale
was told, or at least a part of it. But even that
part was enough to make Jack Martyn grave.
As the telling proceeded, he grew graver and
graver, until, at the end, he wore a face of
portentous gloom. When they seated them-
selves to the meal he made precisely the remark
which they had expected him to make. He
rested his hands on his knees, and he solemnly
shook his head.
" This comes of your being alone in the
house ! "
Ella laughed.
48
TWO LONE, LORN TOUNG WOMEN
" There ! now you've started him on his own
particular crotchet ; he'll never let you hear the
last of this."
Jack went on.
" I've said before, and I say again, and I shall
keep on saying, that you two girls ought not to
live alone by yourselves in a house in this out-
of-the-way corner of the world,"
'• Out-of-the-way corner of the world ! — on
Wandsworth Common ! "
'• For all practical intents and purposes you
might as well be in the middle of the Desert
of Sahara ; you might shriek and shriek and I
doubt if any one would hear you. This
agreeable visitor of Madge's might have cut
her throat from ear to ear, or chopped her into
mincemeat, and she would have been as in-
capable of summoning assistance as if she had
been at the top of Mont Blanc."
" That's it. Jack — pile it on ! "
" I don't think it's fair of you to talk like
that, Ella ; Pm not piling it on ; I'm just
49 E
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
speaking the plain and simple truth. Honestly,
Madge, when you've been alone in the house
all day long, haven't you felt that you were at
the mercy of the first evil-disposed person who
chose to come along ; or, if you haven't felt it
before, don't you think you'll feel it now ? "
" No — to both your questions."
" Supposing this woman comes back again
to-morrow ? "
Madge had to bite her lip to repress a
shudder ; the idea was not a pleasant one.
" She won't come back."
" But suppose she does ^ — and from what you
say I think it very probable that she will ; if
not to-morrow, then the day after."
" If she comes the day after to-morrow she'll
find me out ; I shall be out all day."
" There's a confession ! It's only because
you know that you will be out that you're able
to face the prospect with equanimity."
" You are not entitled to infer anything of
the kind."
50
TJVO LONE, LORN TOUNG WOMEN
Ella interposed, perceiving that the girl was
made uncomfortable by the man's persistence.
" Don't do quite so much supposing, Jack ;
let me do a little for a change. Suppose we
lived in one of those flats in the charming
neighbourhood of Chancery Lane or Blooms-
bury, after which — vicariously — your soul so
hankers, how much better off should we be
there ? "
"You would, at any rate, be within the
reach of assistance."
" No more so than we are now, because,
quite probably, the kind of neighbours we
should be likely to have in the sort of flat
we should be able to affbrd would be worse —
much worse — than none at all. The truth is
that two lonely, hard-up girls — desperately
hard-up girls — will be lonely wherever they
are. We are quite prepared for that. Only
we intend to choose the particular kind of
loneliness which we happen to prefer — don't
we, Madge .? "
51
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Of course we do."
" It makes me wild to hear you say such
things. Rather than you should feel like that,
I'd marry on nothing."
"Thank you, but I wouldn't. I find it
quite hard enough to be single on nothing."
" You know what I mean ; I don't mean
actually on nothing. I was reckoning it up
the other night. My income "
" Your income's like mine, Jack — capable of
considerable increment. And would you be so
kind as to change the subject ? "
But the thing was easier said than done.
Jack's thoughts had been started in a groove,
and they kept in it ; the conversation was con-
tinually reverting to the subject of the girls'
loneliness. His last words as he left the room
were on the familiar theme.
" I grant that there are advantages in having
a pretty little place like this all to yourselves,
especially when you get it at a peppercorn
rent; and that it's nice to be your own mis-
52
'IWO LONE, LORN TOUNG WOMEN
tresses, and all that kind of thing. But in the
case of you two girls the disadvantages are so
many and so serious, that I wonder you don't
see them more clearly for yourselves. Any-
how, Madge has had her first peep at them
to-day, and I sincerely hope it will be her last ;
though I am persuaded that before very long
you will discover that, as a place of residence
for two lone, lorn young women. Clover
Cottage has its drawbacks."
When Ella returned from saying farewell to
Mr. Martyn in the hall, she glanced at Madge
and laughed.
" Jack's in his prophetic mood."
" I shouldn't be surprised if his prophecy's
inspired."
Her tone was unexpectedly serious. Ella
stared.
" What do you mean } "
"What I say."
"You're oracular, my dear. What do you
say :
53
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" That I think it quite possible that we
shall find that residence at Clover Cottage has
its drawbacks ; I've lighted on one or two of
them already."
Ella leaned against the edge of the table,
regarding the speaker with twinkling eyes and
smiling lips.
" My dear, you don't mean to say that that
crazy creature has left such an impression on
your mind ? "
" You see, my dear Ella, I haven't told you
all the story. I felt that I had given Mr.
Martyn a sufficient handle against us as it
was ; so I refrained."
" Pray what else is there to tell ? To judge
from your looks and manner one would think
that there was something dreadful."
"I don't know about dreadful, but there
certainly is something — odd. To begin with,
that wretched woman was not my only visitor."
Then the rest of the tale was told — and
this time the whole of it. Ella heard of the
54
TIVO LONE, LORN TOUNG WOMEN
stranger who had intruded on the pretence
of seeking music lessons : of his fear of the
seedy loafer in the street ; of his undignified
exit through the back door ; and the whole
of his singular behaviour.
" And you say he could play ? "
" Play ! He played like an — I was going
to say an angel, but I'll substitute artist."
" And he looked like a gentleman } "
" Certainly, and spoke like one."
" But he didn't behave like one ? "
" I won't go so far as to say that. He said
or did nothing that was positively offensive
when he was once inside the house."
" But you called him a thief .^ "
" Yes ; but, mind you, I didn't think he
was one. I felt so angry."
" I should think you did. I should have felt
murderous. And you don't think the man in
the road was a policeman } "
" Not he. He was as evil-looking a vaga-
bond as ever I saw."
55
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" It doesn't follow merely on that account,
my dear, that he wasn't a policeman."
There was malice in the lady's tones.
" Not at all ; but even a policeman of that
type would hardly have jumped out of his
skin with fright at the sight of that horrible
woman. He knew her, and she knew him.
There's a mystery somewhere."
" How nice ! "
" Nice ? You think so ? I wish you had
interviewed her instead of me. My dear Ella,
she — she was — beyond expression."
Ella came and seated herself on a stool at
Madge's feet. Leaning her arms on her knees
she looked up at her face.
" Poor old chap ! It wasn't an agreeable
experience."
Madge's answer was as significant as it was
curt.
" It wasn't."
She gave further details of what the woman
had said and done, and of how she had said
56
TJyO LONE, LORN TOUNG WOMEN
and done it — details which she had omitted,
for reasons of her own, in Mr. Martyn's
presence. By the time she had finished the
listener was as serious as the narrator.
"It makes me feel creepy to hear you."
" It would have made you creepy to have
heard her. I felt as if the house was peopled
with ghosts."
" Madge, don't ! You'll make me want to
sleep with you if you go on like that. Poor
old chap ! I'm sorry if I seemed to chaff you."
She reflected before she spoke again. " I can
see that it can't be nice for you to be alone
in the house while I'm away in town all day,
earning my daily bread — especially now that
the days are drawing in. If you like, we'll
clear out of this, this week — we could do it
at a pinch — and we'll return to the seething
masses."
Madge reflected, in her turn, before she
answered.
" Nothing of the sort has happened before,
57
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
and nothing may happen again. But I tell you
frankly, that, if my experiences of to-day do
recur, it won't take much to persuade me that
I have an inclination towards the society of
my fellows, and that I prefer even the crushes
of Petticoat Lane to the solitudes of Wands-
worth Common."
" Well, in that case, it shall be Petticoat
Lane."
There was silence. Presently Madge
stretched herself — and yawned.
" In the meantime," suggested Ella, putting
her hand up to her own lips, " what do you
say to bed ? " And it was bed. " Would
you like me to sleep with you," inquired Ella
as they went upstairs ; " because if you would
like me to very much, I would."
" No," said Madge, " I wouldn't. I never
did like to share my bed with any one, and
I never shall. I like to kick about, and I
like to have plenty of room to do it in."
" Very good— have plenty of room to do
58
TWO LONE, LORN TOUNG WOMEN
it in. Ungrateful creature ! If you're haunted,
don't call to me for aid."
As it happened, Madge did call to her for
aid, after a fashion ; though it was not exactly
because she was haunted.
59
CHAPTER IV
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
l\yrADGE was asleep almost as soon as she
was between the sheets, and it seemed
to her that as soon as she was asleep she was
awake again — waking with that sudden shock
of consciousness which is not the most agree-
able way of being roused from slumber, since
it causes us to realise too acutely the fact that
we have been sleeping. Something had woke
her ; what, she could not tell. She lay motion-
less, listening with that peculiar intensity with
which one is apt to listen when woke suddenly
in the middle of the night. The room was
dark. There was the sound of distant rumb-
ling : they were at work upon the line, where
60
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
they would sometimes continue shunting from
dusk to dawn. She could hear, faintly, the
crashing of trucks as they collided the one
with the other. A breeze was murmuring
across the common. It came from Clapham
Junction way — which was how she came to hear
the noise of the shunting. All else was still.
She must have been mistaken. Nothing had
roused her. She must have woke of her own
accord.
Stay ! — what was that ^ Her keen set ears
caught some scarcely uttered sound. Was it
the creaking of a board ? Well, boards will
creak at night, when they have a trick of
being as audible as if they were exploding
guns. It came again — and again. It was
unmistakably a board that creaked — down-
stairs. Why should a board creak like that
downstairs, unless — it was being stepped
upon } As Madge strained her hearing, she
became convinced that there were footsteps
down below — stealthy, muffled footsteps,
6i
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
which would have been inaudible had it not
been for the tell-tale boards. Some one was
creeping along the passage. Suddenly there
was a noise as if a coin, or a key, or some
small object, had fallen to the floor. Possibly
it was something of the kind which had
roused her. It was followed by silence — as
if the person who had caused the noise was
waiting to learn if it had been overheard.
Then once more the footsteps — she heard the
door of the sitting-room beneath her open,
and shut, and knew that some one had entered
the room.
In an instant she was out of bed. She
hurried on a pair of bedroom slippers which
she kept beside her on the floor, and an old
dressing-gown which was handy on a chair,
moving as quickly and as noiselessly as the
darkness would permit. Snatching up her
candlestick, with its box of matches, she
passed, without a moment's hesitation, as
noiselessly as possible from the room. On
62
IN THE DEJD OF NIGHT
the landing without she stood, for a second
or two, listening. There could be no doubt
about it — some one was in the sitting-room.
Someone who wished to make himself or
herself as little conspicuous as possible ; but
whose presence was still sufficiently obvious
to the keen-eared auditor.
Madge went to Ella's room, and, turning
the handle, entered. As she did so, she
could hear Ella start up in bed.
" Who's there } " she cried.
" Hush ! It's I. There's some one in the
sitting-room."
Lighting a match, Madge applied it to the
candle. Ella was sitting up in bed, staring
at her, with tumbled hair and sleepy eyes,
apparently only half awake.
" Madge ! — what do you mean } "
" What I say. We're about to experience
another of the drawbacks of rural residence.
There's some one in the sitting-room — another
uninvited guest."
63-
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Are you sure ? "
" Quite. If you care to go downstairs and
look, you'll be sure."
" Whatever shall we do .^ "
" Do ! — I'll show you what we'll do. Where's
that revolver of Jack Martyn's, which he lent
you :
" It's in my handkerchief drawer — but it's
loaded."
" All the better. I've fired off a revolver
before to-day, and I am quite willing, at a
pinch, to fire off another one to-night. I'll
show you what we'll do." While she spoke,
Madge had been searching the drawer in ques-
tion. Now she stood with the weapon in her
hand. " Perhaps you'll be so good as to get
out of bed, and put something on, unless you
prefer to go downstairs as the Woman in
White. I suppose you're not afraid ^ "
Ella had got so far out of bed as to sit
on the side, with her feet dangling over the
edge.
64
IN THE DEJD OP NIGHT
"■ Well — I don't know that I am exactly
afraid, but if you ask me if being woke in
the middle of the night, to be told there's
burglars in the house, is the kind of thing
I'm fond of, I'll admit it isn't."
Madge laughed. Ella's tone, and air of
exceeding ruefulness, apparently struck her as
comical.
" It occurs to me, Miss Duncan, that it
won't be long before Mr. Marty n makes a
convert of you. As for me, now my blood's
getting up — and it is getting up — I am
beginning to think that it is rather fun."
" Are you ? Then I'm afraid your sense
of humour must be keener than mine." She
followed Madge's example — putting on a pair
of slippers and a dressing-gown. " Now,
what are you going to do .^ "
" I'm going down to ask our guest to show
me his card of invitation."
" Madge ! Hadn't we better open the
window and scream ? Or you might fire
65 F
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
into the air — if you're sure you do know
how to fire a revolver."
" I'll soon show you if 1 know — and I'll
show our visitor too. And I don't think
we'd better open the window and scream.
Are you coming ? "
Madge moved out of the room, Ella going
after her with a rush.
" Madge ! — don't leave me ! "
The two girls stood listening at the top of
the stairs — Madge with the candlestick in
one hand, and the revolver in the other.
" It strikes me that we sha'n't be able to
inquire for that card of invitation, because
he doesn't mean to stay for us to ask him.
His intention is not to stand upon the order
of his going, but to go at once."
Apparently the proceedings in Ella's bed-
room had been audible below. Evidently the
person in the sitting-room had become startled.
There was a stampede of heavy feet across the
floor ; the noise of furniture being hastily
66
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
pushed aside ; then they could hear the sound
of the window being unlatched, and opened.
It was plain that the intruder, whoever it
was, was bent on showing a clean pair of
heels.
It seemed as if the certitude of this fact
had inspired Ella with sudden courage. Any-
how, she there and then shouted, with the full
force of her lungs, as if she all at once had
found her voice.
" Who's that downstairs ^ "
" Speak ! " exclaimed Madge, with a nearly
simultaneous yell, " or I fire ! "
And she did fire — though no one spoke ;
or, for the matter of that, had a chance of
speaking ; for the words and the shot came
both together. What she fired at was not
quite plain, since, if appearances could be
trusted, the bullet lodged in the ceiling ; for,
at the same moment, a small shower of
plaster came tumbling down.
"■ Madge ! " cried Ella. " I believe you've
67
70M OSSfNGTON'S GHOST
sent the bullet right through the roof ! How
you frightened me ! "
" It was rather a startler," admitted Madge,
in whose voice there seemed a slight tendency
to tremor. " I'd no idea it would make such
a noise — the other revolver I fired didn't.
Ella ! — what are you doing ? "
The question was induced by the fact that
Ella had rushed to the landing window, thrown
the sash up, thrust her head out, and was
shouting as loudly as she could :
" Thieves ! thieves ! — help ! "
Madge came up and put her head out beside
her.
" Can you see him } Has he gone ? "
" Of course he's gone — there he is, running
down the road."
" Are you sure it's a man ? "
" A man ! It's a villain ! — Help ! thieves !
help ! "
" Don't make that noise. What's the use ?
No one can hear you, and it only gives him the
68
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
impression that we're afraid of him, which we're
not ; as, if he comes back again, we'll show
him. There's more bullets in this revolver
than one — I remember Jack saying so ; and
I'm not forced to send them all through the
roof."
Ella drew her head inside. There was colour
in her cheeks, and fire in her eyes. Now that
the immediate danger seemed past her humour
was a ferocious one.
" I wish you'd shot him."
Madge was calmer, though still sufficiently
sanguinary.
" Well — I couldn't very well shoot him if I
never caught a glimpse of him, could I ? But
we'll do better next time."
Ella clenched her fists, and her teeth too.
" Next time ! — Oh, I think a burglar's the
most despicable wretch on the face of the
earth, and, if I had my way, I'd send every
one caught in the act right straight to the
gallows."
69
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Precisely — when caught. But you can
scarcely effect a capture by standing on the
top of the stairs, and inquiring of the burglar
if he's there."
" I know I behaved like a coward — you
needn't remind me. But that was because I
was taken bv surprise. If he were to come
back "
" Yes — if he were to come back ? " Madge
looked out of the window — casually. " I fancy
there's some one coming down the road — it
may be he returning."
Ella clutched at her arm.
" Madge ! "
"You needn't be alarmed, my dear, I was
mistaken ; it's no one after all. Suppose, in-
stead of breathing threatenings and slaughters
' after the battle is over,' we go down and see
what mementoes of his presence our visitor
has left behind — or, rather, what mementoes
he has taken with him."
" Are you sure he was alone ^ "
70
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
" We shall be able to make sure by going
down to see."
" Oh, Madge, do you think "
" No, my dear, I don't, or I should be no more
desirous of going down than you. I'm only
willing to go and see if there is some one
there because Fm sure there isn't."
There was not — luckily. There was little
conspicuously heroic about the bearing of the
young ladies as they descended the stairs to
suggest that they would have made short
work of any ruthless ruffian who might have
been in hiding. About halfway down, Madge
gave what was perhaps an involuntary little
cough ; at which Ella started as if the other
had been guilty of a crime ; and both paused
as if fearful that something dreadful might
ensue. The sitting-room door was closed.
They hung about the handle as if it had
been the entrance to some Bluebeard's den,
and unimaginable horrors were concealed
within. When Madge, giving the knob a
71
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
courageous twist, flung the door wide open,
Ella's face was pasty white. Both perceptibly
retreated, as if expecting some monster to
spring out on them. But no one sprang —
apparently because there was no one there.
A current of cold air came from the
room.
" The window's open."
Ella's voice was tremulous. Her tremor
had the effect of making Madge sarcastic.
" That's probably because our visitor opened
it. You could hardly expect him to stop to
close it, could you ? "
She went boldly into the room — Ella hard
on her heels. She held the candle above her
head — to have it almost blown out by the
draught. She placed it on the table.
" If we want to have a light upon the
subject, we shall have to shut that window."
She did so. Then looked about her.
" Well, he doesn't seem to have left many
tokens of his presence. There's a chair
72
/N THE DEAD OF NIGHT
knocked over, and he's pushed the cloth
half off the table, but I don't see anything
else,"
" He seems to have taken nothing."
"Probably that was because there was
nothing worth his taking. If he came here
in search of plunder, he must have gone away
a disgusted man."
" If he came here in search of plunder ? —
what else could he have come for ^ "
" Ah ! that's the question."
" What's this .? " Stooping, Ella picked up
something off the floor. " Here's something
he's left behind, at any rate."
She was holding a scrap of paper.
" What is it — a piece de conviction of the
first importance : the button off the coat
by means of which the infallible detective
hunts down the callous criminal .'' "
" I don't know what it is. It's a sort of
hieroglyphic — if it isn't — nonsense."
Madge went and looked over her shoulder.
73
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Ella was holding half a sheet of dirty white
notepaper, on which was written, with very
bad ink and a very bad pen, in a very bad
hand : —
"TOM OSSIXGTOX'S GHOST."
" Right — Straight across — three — four — up.
' ' Right — cat — dog — cat — dog — cat — dog —
cat — dog — left eye — push."
The two girls read to the end — then over
again. Then they looked at each other —
Madge with smiling eyes.
" That's very instructive, isn't it ? "
" Very. There seems to be a good deal of
cat and dog about it."
" There does, I wonder what it means."
" If it means anything."
Madge, taking the paper from Ella's hand,
went with it closer to the candle. She eyed
it very shrewdly, turning it over and over, and
making as if she were endeavouring to read
between the lines.
74
IN THE DEJD OF NIGHT
" Do you know, Ella, that there is some-
thing curious about this."
" I suppose there is, since it's gibberish ;
and gibberish is curious."
" No, I'm not thinking of that. I'm think-
ing of the heading — 'Tom Ossington's Ghost.'
Do you know that that enterprising stranger,
who came in search of music lessons he didn't
want, asked me if my name was Ossington,
and if no one of that name lived here."
" Are you sure Ossington was the name he
mentioned ^ It's an unusual one."
" Certain ; it was because it was an unusual
one that I particularly noticed it. Then that
dreadful woman was full of her ghosts, even
claiming, as you heard, to be the ghost's wife.
Doesn't it strike you, under the circumstances,
as odd that the paper the burglar has left
behind him, should be headed ' Tom Ossing-
ton's Ghost ' .^ "
" It does seem queer — though I don't know
v/hat you are driving at."
75
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" No ; I don't know what I am driving at
either. But I do know that I am driving at
something. I'm beginning to think that I
shall see a glimmer of light somewhere soon —
though at present I haven't the faintest notion
where."
" Do you think it was either of your visitors
who has paid us another call to-night ? "
" No ; but I tell you what 1 do think."
" What .? "
" I shouldn't be surprised if we've been
favoured with a call from the individual who
wasn't one of my visitors ; the man in the
road, who took to his heels in such a hurry at
the sight of the woman,"
" What cause have you to suppose that? "
" None whatever, I admit it frankly ; but
I do suppose it all the same. In the first
place the man was burning to be one of my
visitors, of that I'm persuaded — and he would
have been if the woman hadn't come along.
And in the second, he looked a burglar every
76
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
inch of him. Ella, I'll tell you what ! " She
brought her hand on to the table with a crash
which made Ella start, " There's a mystery
about this house — you mark my words and
see. It's haunted — in one sense, if it isn't in
another."
Ella cast furtive glances over her shoulder,
which were suggestive of anything but a mind
at ease.
" You've a comfortable way of talking, upon
my word."
Madge threw her arms out in front of her.
" There is a mystery about the house ; it's
one of these old, ramshackle sort of places in
which there is that kind of thing — I'm sure of
it. Aren't you conscious of a sense of mystery
about the place, and don't you feel it's
haunted ^ "
" Madge, if you don't stop talking like that,
I'll leave the house this instant."
" The notion is not altogether an agreeable
one, I'll allow ; but facts are "
17
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" What's that ? "
" What's what ? "
Ella, clutching at Madge's arm, stared over
her shoulder with a face white as a sheet.
" Did — didn't I hear s-something in the
kitchen ? "
*' Something in the kitchen ? If you did
hear something in the kitchen, I'll shoot that
something as dead as a door nail."
Madge caught up the revolver, which she
had placed on the table.
" Madge, for goodness sake don't do any-
thing rash ! "
" I will do something rash — if you call it
rash to shoot at sight any scoundrel who
ventures to intrude on my premises at this
hour of the night ! — and I'll do it quickly !
Do you think I'm going to be played the fool
with because I'm only a woman ! I'll soon
prove to you I'm not — that is, if it is to be
proved by a little revolver practice."
Madge spoke at the top of her voice, her
7«
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
words seeming to ring through the house with
singular clearness. But whether this was done
for the sake of encouraging herself and Ella,
or with the view of frightening a possible
foe, was an open question. She strode out of
the room with an air of surprising resolution.
Ella clinging to her skirts and following her,
simply because she dare not be left behind.
As it chanced, the kitchen door was open.
Madge marched bravely into the room — only
to find that her display of courage was thrown
away, since the room was empty.
Having made sure of this, Madge turned
to Ella with a smile on her face — though her
cheeks, like her friend's, were whiter than they
were wont to be.
" You see, we are experiencing some of the
disadvantages of two lone, lorn young women
being the solitary inhabitants of a rural resi-
dence — Jack Martyn scores."
For answer Ella burst into tears. Madge
took her in her arms — as well as she could, for
79
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
the candle in one hand and the revolver in the
other.
" Don't cry, girl ; there's nothing to cry at.
You'll laugh at and be ashamed of yourself in
the morning. I'll tell you what — I'll make
an exception ! — you shall have half my bed,
and for the rest of the night we'll sleep to-
gether."
80
CHAPTER V
A REPRESENTATIVE OF LAW AND ORDER
'T^HE next morning, information was given
to a passing policeman of the events of
the night, and in the course of the day
an officer came round from the local station
to learn particulars. Madge received him
in solitary state ; she had refused Ella's
offer to stop away from business to keep her
company, declaring that for that day, at any
rate, she would be safe from undesirable
intruders.
The officer was a plain-clothes man, middle-
aged, imperfectly educated, with the stolid,
matter-of-fact, rather stupid -looking counten-
8i G
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
ance which one is apt to find an attribute of the
detective of fact, rather than fiction.
"You say you didn't see him ? "
" I saw the back of him."
" Hum ! " This stands for a sort of a kind
of a snifF.
" Would you know him if you saw him
again ? "
" From the glimpse which I caught of him
last night I certainly shouldn't. It was pretty
dark, and he was twenty or thirty yards down
the road when I first caught sight of his
back."
"You didn't follow him ? "
" We did not."
Madge smiled as she thought of how such
a suggestion would have been received had it
been made at the time.
" He came in through the back window and
left through the front } "
" That's it."
" And he took nothing ^ "
82
REPRESENTJTIFE OF LAW AND ORDER
" No — but he left something behind him —
he left this."
Madge produced the half- sheet of paper
which Ella had picked up from the floor,
" You're sure this was his property ? "
" I'm sure it isn't ours, and I'm sure we
found it in this room just after he left it."
The officer took the paper ; read it, turned
it over and over ; looked it up and down ;
read it again. Then he gave his mouth a
rather comical twist ; then he looked at Madge
with eyes which he probably intended to be
pregnant with meaning.
" Hum ! " He paused to cogitate. " I
suppose you know there's been a burglary here
before ^ "
'' I know nothing of the kind. We have
only been here six weeks, and are quite
strangers to the place."
"There was. Something more than a year
ago. The house was empty at the time. The
man who did it was caught at the job — and our
83
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
chap got pretty well knocked about for his
pains. But that wasn't the only time we've
had business at this house ; our fellows have
been here a good many times."
" Neither my friend or I had the slightest
notion that the house had such a reputation."
" I daresay not. It's been empty a good long
time. I expect the stories which were told
about it were against its letting."
" What sort of stories ? "
" All sorts — nonsense, most of them."
" Were the people who lived here named
Ossington ? "
" Ossington ? " The officer screwed his
mouth up into the comical twist which it
seemed he had a trick of giving it. " I believe
it was, or, at any rate, something like it. A
queer lot they were — very."
" Do you see what's written as a heading on
that piece of paper ? "
The officer's glance returned to the writing.
" ' Tom Ossington's Ghost ! ' — yes, I noticed
84
REPRESENTJTIFE OF LAJV AND ORDER
it, but I don't know what it means — do
you ? "
" Except that if the name of the people who
lived here last was Ossington, it would seem as
if last night's affair had some reference to the
house's former occupants."
" Yes — it would look as if it had — when you
come to look at it in that way." He was
studying it as if now he had made up his mind
to understand it clearly. " It looks as if it was
some sort of cryptogram, and yet it mightn't
be — it's hard to tell." He wagged his head.
" I'll take it to our chaps, and see what they
can make of it. Some men are better at this
sort of thing than others." Folding up the
paper he placed it in his pocket-book. " Am
I to understand that you can give no descrip-
tion of the burglar — that there's no one you
suspect } "
" I don't know that it amounts to suspicion
— but there was a man hanging about here in
rather a singular fashion whom I can't help
thinking might have had a finger in the pie."
85
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Can you describe him ? "
" He was about my height — I'm five feet six
and a half — thick set, and 1 noticed he walked
in a sort of rolling way ; I thought he was
drunk at first, but I don't believe he was. He
kept his hands in his trousers pockets, and he
was very shabbily dressed, in an old black coat —
I believe you call them Chesterfields — which was
buttoned down the front right up to the chin
— I doubt if he had a waistcoat ; a pair of old
patched trousers — and I'm under the impression
that his boots were odd ones. He had an old
black billycock hat, with no band on, crammed
over his eyes, iron-grey hair, and a fortnight's
growth of whiskers on his cheeks and chin.
He had a half impudent, half hang-dog air —
altogether just the sort of person to try his
hand at this sort of thing."
" I'll take down that description, if you'll
repeat it."
She did repeat it — and he did take it down,
with irritating slowness. When she had
86
REPRESENTATIFE OF LAW AND ORDER
finished he read what he had written, tapping
his teeth with the end of his pencil and lookhig
most important.
" I shouldn't be surprised if you've laid your
finger on the very man — and if we lay our
fingers on him before the day is over. You
will excuse my saying, miss, that you've got
the faculty of observation — marked. I couldn't
have given a better description of a chap myself
— and I've been a bit longer at the game than
you have. Now I'll just go through the place
once more, and then I'll go ; and then in due
course you'll hear from us again."
He did go through the place once more —
and he did go.
"Now," observed Madge to herself, as she
watched him going down the road, " all that
remains, is for us in due course to hear from
you again — to some effect — and that, if you're
the sort of blunderbuss I take you to be, will
be never."
Turning from the window, she looked about
87
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
the room, speaking half in jest and half in
earnest.
" This is a delightful state of things — truly !
It seems as if we couldn't have found a more
undesirable habitation, if we had tried Petticoat
Lane. Not the first burglar that's been in the
place ! And the house well known to the
police — not to speak of a sinister reputation
in all the country side ! Charming ! Clover
Cottage seems to be an ideal place of residence
for two lone, lorn young women. The abode
of mystery, and, so far as I can make out, a
sink of crime, one wonders if it still waits to
become the scene of some ghastly murder to
give to the situation its crowning touches.
I shiver — or, at any rate, I ought to shiver —
when I reflect on the horrors with which I may
be, and probably am, surrounded ! "
Ella returned earlier than the day before,
and, this time, she came alone. The question
burst from her lips the instant she was in the
house.
88
REPRESENTJTIFE OF LAW AND ORDER
" Well, has anything happened ? "
" Nothing — of importance. It's true the
police have been, but as it appears that they've
been here over and over again before, that's
a trifle. There's been at least one previous
burglar upon the premises, and it seems that
the house has been known to the police — and to
the whole neighbourhood — for years, in the
most disreputable possible sense."
Ella could but gasp.
" Madge ! "
The statements which the officer had made
were retailed, with comments and additions
— and, it may be added, interpolations. Ella
was more impressed even than Madge had
been — being divided between concern and
indignation.
" To think that we should have been
inveigled into taking such a place ! We ought
to claim damages from those scamps of agents
who let it us without a word of warning. You
can't think how I have been worrying about
70M OSSINGTON'S GHOST
you the whole day long ; the idea of our
being together in the place is bad enough,
but the idea of your being alone in it is
worse. What that policeman has said, settles
it. Jack may laugh if he likes, but my mind
is made up that I won't stop a moment longer
in the house than I can help ; the notion of
your being all those hours alone here would
worry me into the grave if nothing else did —
and so I shall tell him when he comes."
Madge's manner was more equable.
" He will laugh at you, you'll find ; and,
unless I'm in error, here he is to do it."
As she spoke there was a vigorous knock
at the front door.
90
CHAPTER VI
THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE
" f^ O," said Ella, as she hastened from the
^""^ room, " and open the door, while I
go upstairs and take my hat off."
Madge did as she was told. There were
two persons at the door — Jack Martyn and
another.
" This," said Jack, referring to his com-
panion, " is a friend of mine."
It was dark in the passage, and Madge was a
little flurried. She perceived that Jack had a
companion, and that was all.
" Go into the sitting-room, I'll bring you
a lamp in a minute. Ella has gone to take her
hat off."
91
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Presently, returning with the lighted lamp in
her hand, placing it on the table, she glanced
at Jack's companion — and stared. In her
astonishment, she all but knocked the lamp
over. Jack laughed.
" I believe," he said, " you two have met
before."
Madge continued speechless. She passed her
hand before her eyes, as if to make sure she was
not dreaming. Jack laughed again.
" I repeat that I believe you two have met
before."
Madge drew herself up to her straightest and
her stiffest. Her tone was icy.
" Yes, I rather believe we have."
She rather believed they had ? — If she could
credit the evidence of her own eyes the man in
front of her was the stranger who had so
unwarrantably intruded on pretence of seeking
music lessons — who had behaved in so extra-
ordinary a fashion !
" This," went on Jack airily, " is a friend
92
THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE
of mine, Bruce Graham, — Graham, this is Miss
Brodie."
Madge acknowledged the introduction with
an inclination of the head which was so faint
as to be almost imperceptible. Mr. Graham, on
the contrary, bent almost double — he seemed
scarcely more at his ease than she was.
" I'm afraid, Miss Brodie, that I've behaved
very badly. I trust you will allow me to
express my contrition."
*' I beg you will not mention it," she turned
away ; " I will go and tell Ella you have come."
There came a voice from behind her.
" You needn't — Ella is aware of it already."
As Ella came into the room, she moved
to leave it. Jack caught her by the arm.
" Madge, don't go away in a fume ! — you
wait till you have heard what I have got to
say. Do you know that we're standing in
the presence of a romance in real life — on the
verge of a blood-curdling mystery ? Fact !
— aren't we, Graham .? "
93
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Mr. Graham's language was slightly less
emphatic.
" We are, or rather we may be confronted
by rather a curious condition of affairs."
Jack waved his arm excitedly.
" I say it's the most extraordinary thing.
Now, honestly, Graham, isn't it a most extra-
ordinary thing ? "
" It certainly is rather a striking illustration
of the long arm of coincidence."
" Listen to him. Isn't he cold-blooded ?
If you'd heard him an hour or two ago,
he was hot enough to melt all the ice-cream
in town. But you wait a bit. This is my
show, and I'll let you know it. Sit down,
Ella — sit down, Madge — Graham, take a chair.
To you a tale I will unfold."
Taking up his position on the hearthrug
in front of the fireplace, he commenced to
orate.
" You see this man. His name's Graham.
He digs in the same house I do. To be
94
THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE
perfectly frank, his rooms are on the opposite
side of the landing. You may have heard me
speak of him."
" I have. Often ! " This was Ella.
" Have you .'' You must know, Graham,
that there are frequently occasions on which
I have nothing whatever to talk about, so I
fill up the blanks with what I may call padding.
I say this, because I don't want you to mis-
understand the situation. This morning he
lunched at the same crib I did. Directly
he came in I saw that he was below par ; so
I said — I always am a sympathetic soul — ' I
do hope, Graham, you won't forget to let me
have an invitation to your funeral — and, in
the meantime, perhaps you'll let me know of
what it is you're dying ^ ' Now, he's not one
of those men who wear their hearts upon their
sleeves for daws to peck at — you know the
quotation, and if you don't, I do ; and it was
some time before I could extract a word from
him, even edgeways. But at last he put down
95
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
his knife and fork with a clatter — it was dis-
tinctly with a clatter — and he observed, ' Mar-
tyn, I've been misbehaving myself I was not
surprised, and I told him so. ' I'm in a deuce
of a state of mind because I've been insulting
a lady.' ' That's nothing ! ' I replied. ' I'm
always insulting a lady.' — I may explain that
when I made that remark, Ella, you were the
lady I had in my mind's eye. At this point
I would pause to inquire why, Miss Brodie,
you did not take me into your confidence
yesterday afternoon ^ "
" I did."
" You did not."
'' I did."
" You told me about the lunatic lady,
because, I suppose, you could not help it —
since you were caught in the act — but you
said nothing about a lunatic gentleman." He
wagged his finger portentously. " Don't think
you deceive me, Madge Brodie — I smell a rat,
and one of considerable size,"
96
THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE
" Jack, do go on."
This was Ella.
" I will go on — in my own way. If you
bustle me, I'll keep going on for ever. Don't
I tell you this is my show.'' Do you want
to queer it ^ Well, as I was about to observe
— when I was interrupted — Graham started
spinning a yarn about how he had forced his
way into a house, in which there was a young
woman all alone, by herself, and, so far as I
could make out, gone on awful. ' May I ask,'
I said, beginning to think that his yarn smelt
somewhat fishy, ' what house this was ^ '
' The place,' he replied, as cool as a cucumber,
' is called Clover Cottage.' ' What's that ! '
I cried — I almost jumped out of my chair.
' I say that the place is called Clover Cottage.'
I had to hold on to the hair of my head
with both my hands. 'And whereabouts
may Clover Cottage be .? ' * On Wandsworth
Common.' When he said that, as calmly as
if he were asking me to pass the salt, I
97 H
TOAI OSSINGTOX'S GHOST
collapsed. 1 daresay he thought that I'd
gone mad."
" I began to wonder." This was Graham.
" Did you ? Let me tell you, sir, that as
far as you were concerned, I had long since
passed the stage of wonder, and had reached
the haven of assurance. ' Are you aware ? '
I cried, ' that Clover Cottage, Wandsworth
Common, is the residence of the lady whom
I hope to make my wife ? ' * Good Lord ! '
he said. ' No,' I screamed, ' good lady ! ' I
fancy the waiter, from his demeanour, was
under the impression that I was about to
fight ; in which case I should have proved
myself mad, because, as you perceive for your-
selves, the man's a monster. ' It seems to
me,' I said, ' that if the lady you insulted
was not the lady whom I hope to make my
wife, it was that lady's friend, which is the
same thing
" Is it ^ " interposed Ella. " You hear him,
Madge .? "
98
THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE
" I hear."
"'Which is the same thing,'" continued
Jack. " ' And therefore, sir, I must ask you
to explain.' He explained, I am bound to
admit that he explained there and then. He
gave me an explanation which I have no
hesitation in asserting " — Jack, holding his
left hand out in front of him, brought his
right list solemnly down upon his open palm —
" was the most astonishing I ever heard. It
shows the hand of Providence ; it shows
that the age of miracles is not yet past ; it
shows "
Ella cut the orator short.
" Never mind what it shows ; what's the
explanation V
Jack shook his head sadly.
" I was about to point out several other
things which that explanation shows, with a
view, as I might phrase it, of improving the
occasion, but, having been interrupted for the
third time, I refrain. The explanation itself
99
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
you will hear from Graham's own lips — after
tea. He is here for the purpose of giving
you that explanation — after tea. I believe,
Graham, I am correct in saying so .^ "
" Perfectly. Only, so far as I am concerned,
I am ready to give my explanation now. I
cannot but feel that I shall occupy an in-
vidious position in, at any rate, Miss Brodie's
eyes until I have explained."
" Then feel ! I'll be hanged if you shall
explain now. Dash it, man, I want my tea ; I
want a high tea, a good tea — at once ! "
Ella sprang up from her chair.
*' Come, Madge, let's give the man his tea."
It was a curious meal — if only because of
the curious terms on which two members of
the party stood toward each other. The two
girls sat at each end of the table, the men on
either side. Madge, unlike her usual self, was
reserved and frosty ; what little she did say
was addressed to Ella or to Jack. Mr. Graham
she ignored, treating his timorous attempts in
lOO
THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE
a conversational direction with complete in-
attention. His position could hardly have
been more uncomfortable. Ella, influenced
by Madge's attitude, seemed as if she could
not make up her mind how to treat him on
her own account ; her bearing towards him, to
say the least, was chilly. On the other hand.
Jack's somewhat cumbrous attempts at humour
and sociability did not mend matters ; and
more than once before the meal was over
Mr. Graham must have heartily wished that
he had never sat down to it.
Still, even Madge might have admitted, and
perhaps in her heart she did admit, that, under
the circumstances, he bore himself surprisingly
well ; that he looked as if he was deserving
of better treatment. Half unconsciously to
herself — and probably quite unconsciously to
him — she kept a corner of her eye upon him
all the time. He scarcely looked the sort of
man to do anything unworthy. The strong
rough face suggested honesty, the bright clear
TOM OSS/NGTON'S GHOST
eyes were frank and open ; the broad brow
spelt intellect, the lines of the mouth and jaw
were bold and firm. The man's whole person
was suggestive of strength, both physical and
mental. And when he came to tell the story
which Jack Martyn had foreshadowed, it was
difficult, as one listened, not to believe that he
was one who had been raised by nature above
the common sort. He told his tale with a
dramatic earnestness, and yet a simple, modest
sincerity, which held his hearers from the first,
and which, before he had done, had gained
them all over to his side.
I02
CHAPTER VII
BRUCE Graham's first client
" T DON'T know," he began, " if Martyn
has told you that by profession I am a
barrister,"
" No," said Jack, as he shook his head, " I
have told them nothing to your credit."
Graham smiled ; the smile lighting up his
features, and correcting what was apt to be
their chief defect, a prevailing sombreness.
" I am a barrister — one of the briefless
brigade. One morning, about fourteen months
ago, I left London for a spin on my bicycle.
It was the long vacation ; every one was out
of town except myself. I thought I would
steal a day with the rest. I came through
Wandsworth, meaning to go across Wimbledon
103
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Common, through Epsom, and on towards the
Shirley Hills, As I came down St. John's
Hill my tyre caught up a piece of broken
glass off the road, and the result was a punc-
ture, or rather a clean cut, nearly an inch in
length. I took it to a repairing shop by the
bridge. As I stood waiting for the job to be
done, two policemen came along with a man
handcuffed between them, a small crowd at
their heels.
" I asked the fellow who was doing my cycle
what was wrong. He told me that there had
been a burglary at a house on the Common the
night before, that the burglar had been caught
in the act, had half-murdered the policeman
who had caught him, and was now on his way
to the magistrate's court.
" As it seemed likely that the mending of
my tyre would take some time, actuated by a
more or less professional curiosity, I followed
the crowd to the court.
" The case was taken up without delay.
104
BRUCE GRAHAM'S, FIRS7 CLIENT
The statement that the constable who had
detected what was taking place had been half-
murdered was an exaggeration, as the appear-
ance of the officer himself in the witness-box
disclosed. But he had been roughly handled.
His head was bandaged, he carried his arm in
a sling, and he bore himself generally as one
who had been in the wars. My experience,
small as it is, teaches that constables on such
occasions are wont, perhaps not unnaturally, to
make the most of their injuries ; and, to say
the least, the prisoner had not escaped scot
free. His skull had been laid open, two of
his teeth had been knocked down his throat,
his whole body was black and blue with bruises.
Indeed his battered appearance so excited my
sympathy that then and there I offered him my
gratuitous services in his defence. My offer
was accepted. I did what I could.
" However, there was very little that could
be done. The burglary, it seemed, had occurred
at a place called Clover Cottage."
105
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Why," cried Ella, " this is Clover Cot-
tage ! "
" Yes," said Jack, shaking his head with
what he meant to be mysterious significance,
" as you correctly observe, this is Clover
Cottage. Didn't I tell you you'd see the
hand of Providence? You just wait a bit,
you'll be dumbfounded."
Mr. Graham continued.
" Clover Cottage it appeared was unoccupied.
There were in it neither tenants nor goods.
So far as the evidence showed, it contained
nothing at all. Being found in an absolutely
empty house is not, as a rule, an offence which
meets with a severe punishment. I was at a
loss, therefore, to understand why my client
should have made such a desperate defence and
thus have enormously increased the measure of
his guilt in the way he had done. Had it
not been for what was termed, and perhaps
rightly, his assault on the police, the affair
would have been settled out of hand. As it
1 06
BRUCE GRAHAM'S FIRST CLIENT
was, the magistrate felt that he had no option
but to send the case to trial ; which he did do
there and then.
" Before his trial I had more than one
interview with my client in his cell at Wands-
worth Gaol. He told me, by way of explain-
ing his conduct, an extraordinary story ; so
extraordinary that, from that hour to this, I
have never been able to make up my mind as
to its truth.
" Under ordinary circumstances I should
have had no hesitation in affirming his state-
ment, or rather his series of statements, was a
more or less badly contrived set of lies. But
there was something about the fellow which
assured me that at any rate he himself believed
what he said. He was by no means an ordi-
nary criminal type, and there seemed no reason
to doubt his assertion that this was the first
felonious transaction he had ever had a hand
in. He admitted he had led an irregular life,
and that he had come down the ladder of
107
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
respectability with a run, but he stoutly main-
tained that this was the first time he had ever
done anything deserving the attention of the
police.
" He was a man about forty years of age ;
he claimed to be only thirty-six. If that was
the fact, then the life he had been living, and
the injuries he had recently received, made him
look considerably older. His name, he said,
was Charles Ballingall. By trade he was a
public-house broker ; once, and that not so
long ago, in a very fair way of business. He
had had a lifelong friend — I am telling you
the story, you understand, exactly as he told
it me — named Ossington — Thomas Ossington.
Ballingall always spoke of him as Tom
Ossington."
Ellen looked at Madge.
" Madge ! " she exclaimed, " how about
Tom Ossington's Ghost ? "
" I know."
Madge sat listening with compressed lips
io8
BRUCE GRAHAM'S FIRST CLIENT
and flashing eyes ; that was all she vouchsafed
to reply. Mr. Graham glanced in her direc-
tion as he went on.
" According to Ballingall's story, Ossington
must have been a man of some eccentricity.
He was possessed of considerable means —
according to Ballingall, of large fortune. But
his whole existence had been embittered by
the fact that he suffered from some physical
malformation. For one thing, he had a lame
foot "
" I know that he was lame." This was
Madge ; all eyes stared at her.
" You knew ^ How did you know ^ "
" Because she told me."
Ella's eyes opened wider.
" She told you .? Who .? "
" The ghost's wife."
" The ghost's wife ! "
" Yes, the ghost's wife. But never mind
about that now. Mr. Graham will perhaps
go on."
109
TOM OSS IN G TON'S GHOST
And Mr. Graham went on.
" This had preyed upon his spirits his whole
life long ; and, as his unwillingness to show
himself among his fellows increased, it had
made of him almost a recluse. He was, how-
ever, as it seemed, a man of strong affections,
tender heart, and simple disposition. In these
respects Ballingall could not speak of him
with sufficient warmth. There never had
been, he declared, a man like Tom. There
was nothing he would not do for a friend —
self-abnegation was the passion of his life.
Ballingall owned that he owed everything to
Ossington. Ossington had set him up in
business, had helped him in a hundred ways.
In return he (Ballingall) had rewarded him
with the most hideous ingratitude. This part
of the story was accompanied by such a strong
exhibition of remorse that I, for one, found it
difficult not to believe in the fellow's genuine-
ness.
" In spite of his mis-shapenness, Ossington
no
BRUCE GRAHAM'^ FIRST CLIENT
had found a wife, apparently a lovely one.
The man loved her with the single-eyed
affection of which such natures as his are
capable. She, on the other hand, was as
unworthy of his affection as she possibly could
have been. From Ballingall's account she was
evil through and through ; he could find no
epithet too evil to hurl at her. But then it
was very possible that he was prejudiced.
According to him, this woman, Ossington's
wife, loathing her devoted husband, full to
the lips with scorn of him, had deliberately
laid herself out to win his (Ballingall's) love,
and had succeeded so completely as to have
caused him to forget the mountain-load of
gratitude under which he ought to have
stumbled, even to the extent of causing him
to steal his friend's wife — the wife who was
the very light of that friend's eyes.
"1 think there was some truth in the
fellow's version of the crime — for crime it
was, and of the blackest dye. He declared
rOM OSSINGTON^S GHOST
to me that as soon as the thhig was done, he
knew himself to be the ineffable hound which
he indeed was. The veil which the woman's
allurements and sophistries had spread before
his eyes was torn into shreds, and he saw the
situation in all its horrible reality. She was
as false to him as she had been to her husband,
and he had been to his friend. In a ftw
months she had left him, having ruined him
before she went. From that time his career
was all downhill. Remorse pursued him day
and night. He felt that he was a pariah — an
outcast among men ; that an ineffaceable
brand was on his brow which would for ever
stamp him as accursed. It is possible that
under the stress of privation, — for he quickly
began to suffer actual privation — his mind
became unhinged. But that he had suffered,
and was still suffering, acutely, for his crime, the
sweat of agony which broke out upon his brow as
he told his tale was, to me, sufficient evidence.
" Two or three years passed. He sank to
BRUCE GRAHAM'S FIRST CLIENT
about the lowest depths to which a man could
sink. At last, ragged, penniless, hungry, he
was refused a job as a sandwich-man because
of his incapacity to keep up with his fellows.
One night he was on the Surrey side of the
Embankment, near Westminster Bridge. It
was after one o'clock in the morning ; shortly
before, he had heard Big Ben striking the hour.
He was leaning over the parapet in front of
Doulton's factory — you will observe that I
reproduce the attention to detail which
characterised this portion of his story, such
an impression did it make upon my mind.
As he stood looking at the water, some one
touched him on the shoulder. Supposing it
was a policeman who suspected his intentions,
he turned hastily round. To his astonishment
it was Tom Ossington. ' Tom ! ' he gasped.
" ' Charlie ! ' returned the other. ' Come
the first thing to-morrow morning to Clover
Cottage.'
" Without another word he walked rapidly
rOAI OSSINGTON'S GHOST
away in the direction of the Wandsworth Road
— Ballingall distinctly noticing, as he went, that
his limp had perceptibly diminished. Left
once more alone, Ballingall was at a loss what
to make of the occurrence. Ossington's appear-
ance at that particular moment, so far away
from home at that hour of the night, was a
problem which he found it difficult to solve.
He at last decided that the man's incurable
tender-heartedness had caused him to at least
partially overlook the blackness of the offence,
and to offer his whilom friend succour in the
depths of his distress. Anyhow, the next
morning found the broken-down wretch in
front of Ossington's house — of this house, as
I understand."
As Mr. Graham said this, for some reason or
other at least two of its hearers shivered ; Ella
clasped her hands more tightly as they lay upon
her knee, and the expression of Madge's wide-
open eyes grew more intense. Even Jack
Martyn seemed subdued.
BRUCE GRJHJAfS FIRST CLIENT
" To his indescribable astonishment, the
house was empty. A board in the garden
announced that it was to be let or sold. As
he stood staring, a policeman came along.
" ' Excuse me ! ' he said, ' but doesn't Mr.
Ossington live here ? '
" ' He did ! ' answered the policeman ; * but
he doesn't now.'
" ' Can you tell me where he is living } I
want to know because he asked me to call on
him.'
" ' Did he ? Then if he asked you to call
on him, I should if I was you. You'll find him
in Wandsworth Churchyard. That's where he
is living now ! '
" The policeman's tone was jocular, Bal-
lingall's appearance was against him. Evidently
the officer suspected him of some clumsy
attempt at invention. But as soon as the
words were uttered Ballingall staggered back
against the wall, according to his own account,
like one stricken with death. He was speech-
115
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
less. The policeman, with a laugh, turned on
his heel and left him there. Impelled by some
influence which he could not resist, the con-
science-haunted vagabond dragged his wearied
feet to the churchyard. There among the
tombstones he found one which purported to
be erected to the memory of Thomas Ossington,
who had been interred there some two years
previously. While he stared, thunderstruck,
at the inscription, Ballingall assured me that
Tom Ossington stood at his side, and pointed
at it with his finger."
Graham paused. His listeners fidgeted in
their seats. It was a second or two before the
narrator continued.
" You understand that I am telling you the
story precisely as it was told me, without accept-
ing for it any responsibility whatever. I can
only assure you that whilst it was being told,
I was so completely held, by what I can best
describe as the teller's frenzied earnestness, that
I accepted his facts precisely as he told them,
ii6
•Tom Ossington stood at his side, and pointed at it with his finger.'
[To face /: ii6.
BRUCE GRAHJM'S FIRST CLIENT
and it was only after I got away from the
glamour of his intensity of self-conviction that
I perceived how entirely irreconcilable they
were with the teachings of our everyday ex-
perience.
" Thenceforward, Ballingall declared that he
was never without a feeling that Ossington was
somewhere in the intermediate neighbourhood —
to use his own word, that he was shadowing
him. For the next week or two he lighted
upon somewhat better times. He obtained a
job at road-cleaning, and in one way or another
managed to preserve himself from actual starva-
tion. But, shortly, the luck ran out, and one
night he again found himself without a penny
with which to buy either food or lodging. He
was struggling up Southampton Street, in the
Strand, intending to hang about the purlieus of
Covent Garden with the faint hope that he
might be able to get some sort of job at the
dawn of day, when he saw, coming towards him
from the market, Tom Ossington. Ballingall
117
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
shrank back into the doorway, and, while he
stood there shivering, Ossington came and
planted himself in front of him.
" ' Charlie ! ' he said, ' why didn't you come
to Clover Cottage when I told you ? '
"Ballingall protested that he looked and
spoke just like a rational being — with the little
air of impatience which had always been his
characteristic ; that there was nothing either
in his manner or his appearance in any way
unusual, and that there was certainly nothing
to suggest an apparition. A conversation was
carried on between them just as it might have
been between an ordinary Jones and Robinson.
" ' I did come ! ' he replied.
"'Yes — but you stopped outside. Why
didn't you come inside ^ '
" ' Because the house was empty ! '
" ' That's all you know.'
" ' Yes,' repeated BalHngall, ' that's all I do
know.'
" ' There's my fortune in that house ! '
ii8
BRUCE GRAHAM'S FIRST CLIENT
" ' Your fortune ? '
" ' Yes my fortune ; all of it. I brought it
home, and hid it away — after Lily went.'
" Lily was his wife's name. He spoke of
her with a sort of gasp. Ballingall felt as if he
had been struck.
" ' What's your fortune to do with me } '
" ' Everything maybe — because it is yours,
if you'll come and get it ; every farthing. It's
anyone's who finds it, anyone's — I don't care
who it is. What does it matter to me who has
it — now ^ Why shouldn't it be yours ? There's
heaps and heaps of money, heaps ! More than
you suppose. It'll make a rich man of you —
set you up for life, buy you houses, carriages
and all. You have only got to come and get
it, and it is yours. Think of what a difference
it'll make to you — of all that it will do for
you — of all that it will mean. It will pick you
out of the gutter, and place you in a mansion,
with as many servants as you like to pay for at
your beck and call. And all yours for the
119
70M OSSINGTON'S GHOST
fetching — or anyone's for the matter of that.
But why shouldn't you make it yours ? Don't
be a fool, but come, man, come ! '
" He continued urging and entreating Bal-
lingall to come and take for his own the
treasures which he declared were hidden away
in Clover Cottage, until, turning round, with-
out a farewell word, he walked down the street
and disappeared into the Strand.
" Ballingall assured me that he didn't know
what to make of it ; and if he was speak-
ing the truth, I quite understand his difficulty.
He was aware that, neither physically nor
mentally, was he in the best of health, and he
knew also that Ossington was continually in his
mind. He might be the victim of hallucina-
tion ; but if so, it was hallucination of an
extraordinary sort. He himself had not touched
Ossington, but Ossington had touched him.
His touch had been solid enough, he looked
solid enough, but how came he to be in
Southampton Street if he was lying in Wands-
120
BRUCE GRAHAM'S FIRST CLIENT
worth Churchyard? On the other hand, the
story of the hidden fortune was quite in ac-
cordance with what he knew of the man's
character. He always had a trick of concealing
money, valuables, all sorts of things, in unusual
places. And for him to have secreted the bulk
of his capital, or even the whole of it, or
what represented the whole of it, and then
to have left the hiding-place unrevealed, for
some one to discover after he was dead and gone,
was just the sort of thing he might have been
expected to do.
" Anyhow, Ballingall did not go to Clover
Cottage the following day. He found a job
when the market opened, and that probably had
a good deal to do with his staying away. The
next night Ossington returned — if I remember
rightly, just as Ballingall was about to enter a
common lodging-house. And he came back
not that night only, but over and over again, so
far as I could understand, for weeks together,
and always with the same urgent request, that
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
he would come and fetch the fortune which lay
hidden in Clover Cottage.
"At last torn by conflicting doubts, driven
more than half insane — as he himself admitted —
by the feeling that his life was haunted, he did
as his mysterious visitor desired — he went to
Clover Cottage. He hung about the house for
an hour. At last, persuaded that it was empty,
he gained admission through the kitchen win-
dow. No sooner was he in than a constable
who, unconsciously to himself, had been observ-
ing his movements with suspicious eyes, came
and found him on the premises. The feeling
that, after all, he had allowed himself to be
caught in something that looked very like a
trap, bereft Ballingall of his few remaining
senses, and he resisted the officer with a degree
of violence which he would not have shown had
he retained his presence of mind.
" The result was that instead of leaving
Clover Cottage the possessor of a fortune, he
left it to be hauled Ignominiously to the station-
house."
122
CHAPTER VIII
MADGE . . . AND THE PANEL
" A ND is that all the story ? " asked Ella, tor
Mr. Graham had paused.
" All of it as it relates to Ballingall. So far
as he was concerned, it brought his history up
to date."
" And what became of him ^ "
" He was tried at the Surrey Sessions. There
was practically no defence — for, ot course, I
could not urge on his behalf the wild story he
had told me. All I could do was to plead
extenuating circumstances. He was found
guilty, and got twelve months."
"And then? "
" Then I came in — that was my first brief,
1^3
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
and my last. Although I could not see my way
to shape his story into the form of any legal
plea, still less could I erase it from my mind.
Never had I heard such a tale before, and never
had I listened to a man who had so impressed
me by his complete sincerity as Ballingall had
done when telling it. He had struck me as
being as sane as I myself was ; had used common-
place words ; had not gone out of his way to
heighten their colour ; but had simply told the
thing straight on, exactly as it occurred. I felt
convinced that, from his own point of view, the
affair was genuine.
" Months went by, and still the story stuck
in my brain. I found myself putting propositions
of this kind. There was a house called Clover
Cottage, and there had lived in it a man named
Ossington, an avowed eccentric — for I had
made inquiries in the neighbourhood, and had
learned that he had been regarded thereabouts
as more or less insane. Suppose, in this empty
house of his, he had hidden something which
124
MADGE . . . AND THE PANEL
was more or less valuable, for which there existed
no actual owner, nor any designated heir. What
then ? "
The speaker paused again. Then spoke
more softly. On his countenance the shadows
seemed to deepen.
" You must understand that I am a poor
man. All the world that knows me is conscious
of my poverty, but none but myself is aware
how poor I really am. I have felt, and feel, that
if I can only hold on, I shall win my way in my
profession yet. But it is the holding on which
is so difficult. Some time ago I came to the end
of my resources, and during the last year I have
been living from hand to mouth. Had I had
my time more fully occupied I should have been
able to banish from my mind the man's queer
story ; or had I seen my way to earn money
sufficient to supply my daily needs, anyhow,
without forfeiting my right to call myself a
professional man, and so barring that gate to
my future advancement ; my thoughts would
125
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
not have turned so frequently to that possibly
hidden, useless hoard. I was frequently con-
scious that the whole thing might be, and pro-
bably was, a pure phantasm, and that there was
no such hoard, and never had been ; but, at
the same time I was persuaded that Ballingall
had not been a conscious liar.
" Things came to such a pitch that I found
myself in possession of less than ten shillings,
and with nothing pawnable on which to raise
the wind — you must forgive my entering on
these details, but it is absolutely necessary if you
are to have a complete comprehension of my
position. This, I told myself, was absurd, ajid
if there really was something hidden at Clover
Cottage worth having, which could be had for
the finding, it was absurder still. I started then
and there with a half-formed resolution to put
the matter to a final test, and to look for myself.
I reached Clover Cottage — to find that it was
occupied. There was a plate outside, announcing
that lessons were given in music. My mind
126
MADGE . . . JND THE PANEL
had been in a tolerable state of confusion when
I started. I was conscious of the apparent
absurdity of my quest ; and that consciousness
had not grown less as I went on. The discovery
that the house was tenanted made my confusion
worse confounded. More than half ashamed of
my errand, I was wholly at a loss what to do.
While I hesitated, I chanced to glance up, and
there, a few yards down the road, was . . .
Ballingall."
" I knew it was Ballingall."
This was Madge.
Ella turned on her.
" You knew it was Ballingall } — How did
you know it was Ballingall } It seems to me
that you know everything."
" Miss Brodie," observed Bruce Graham,
*' very naturally draws her own conclusions.
The sight of him turned me into a drivelling
idiot. In the confusion of my mind his appear-
ance on the scene at that particular moment
seemed nothing short of supernatural. I felt as
127
rOM OSSINGTON'S GH0S7
if I had been guilty of some act of treachery
towards him, and as if he had sprung from
goodness alone knew where to catch me in the
very act. I blundered through the gate, knocked
at the door and almost forced my way into the
house."
" You did almost force your way into the
house."
Madge's tone was grim.
" I'm afraid I did — and, being in, I blurted
out some nonsense about being in search of
music lessons, and generally misbehaved myself
all round. As a climax, just as I was about to
put an end to my intrusion, I saw Ballingall
staring at me through the window. I would
not have encountered him then for all the hidden
hoards the world contains. I entreated Miss
Brodie — to permit me to make my escape
through the back door — and she did."
" Yes, and insulted you as you went."
Graham rose from his seat.
" You behaved to me, Miss Brodie, infinitely
128
MADGE . . . JND THE PJNEL
better than I deserved. You would have been
perfectly justified in summoning a policeman,
and giving me into charge. I can only thank
you for your forbearance. I assure you of my
most extreme penitence. And while I cannot
expect that you will forgive me at once "
" But I do forgive you,"
Madge had also risen.
" Miss Brodie."
" Of course I do. And I did behave badly —
like a wretch. But why didn't you explain ? "
"You saw what, at the moment, was my
capacity to explain, and now you perceive how
extremely complicated the explanation would
have had to be."
" But to think," cried Ella, " that we should
be in the very centre of a mystery."
Jack struck in.
" Exactly — living in the very heart of it ;
surrounded by it on every side ; having it staring
you in the face whichever way you turn. What
did I tell you .'' Isn't it blood-curdling ^ Like
129 K
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
the man says in the song — you really never do
know where you are."
Ella glanced at Madge.
*' The burglary last night — do you think ? "
" Of course it was."
'' Ballingall .? "
" Without a doubt."
" But, my dear, how can you be so sure ? "
" He was hanging about all day — he tried
again last night ; it's as plain as it possibly can
be."
Jack, puzzled, had been looking from one to
the other.
" Perhaps you will tell us what is as plain as
it possibly can be."
Ella turned to him.
" There was another burglary last night."
" Where .? "
" Here — in the very middle of the night."
" Upon my honour ! — this appears to be —
Graham, this really does appear to be a pleasant
house to live in. The delights of the country,
130
MADGE . . . JND THE PANEL
with the horrors of town thrown in.— Did you
catch the ruffian ? "
" Madge heard him first."
" Oh— Madge heard him first ? "
"Yes, and then she came and toJd me—"
" Where was he all the time ? "
" Wait a bit, and FJl tell you. Then we
both of us heard him— then Madge fired "
" Fired .?— what V
" Your revolver."
" Gracious !— did she hit him ? "
" She never saw him."
"Never saw him! Then what did she
fire at .^ "
" Well "
Ella stopped, as if somewhat at a loss. So
Madge went on.
"I fired to let him know he was discovered.
I believe the bullet lodged in the roof"
" Heavens ! what a target."
" He took the hint, and did not wait to be
made a target of himself"
131
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Then didn't you see him at all ? "
" Through the window, as he was running
down the road,"
" Did you give the alarm ? "
We were in our night-dresses."
" Why, he might have murdered the two of
you if he had liked."
"He might, but he didn't."
Madge's tone was dry. Ella put her hand
up to her ears.
" Jack ! — don't talk like that ; I've been
shivering ever since. You can't think what
a day I've had in town, thinking of Madge
in the house all alone."
" My dear girl." He put his arm about
her waist, to comfort her. "And you think
that it was — Graham's friend."
" It was Charles Ballingall."
This was Madge ; Ella was less positive.
*' My dear, how can you be so certain ^ You
only caught a glimpse of the man's back in the
darkness."
132
MADGE . . . A^ND THE PANEL
" He has committed burglary here before.
His presence in the daytime is followed by
another burglary that same night. Isn't the
inference an obvious one ? Don't you think
so, Mr. Graham .?
" It looks exceedingly suspicious. To con-
vince a jury of his innocence he would have
to prove an alibi."
" The burglar, whoever it was — and for the
sake of argument we'll say that we don't
know — took nothing with him, but he left
something behind him, a piece of paper with
writing on it. When the police came to-
day "
" Do you mean to say that the police have
been here to-day ? "
" Certainly — or, rather, a sample of them.
And a lot of good he did, or is likely to do.
I gave him the original piece of paper, but
not before I had copied what was on it. Here
is the copy. What do you make of it, Mr.
Graham ^ "
133
'JOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Madge handed a sheet of paper to the
gentleman addressed. As he looked at it
Jack, too impatient to wait his turn, leaned
over his elbow to look at it too.
" My stars ! ' Tom Ossington's Ghost ! '
Large as life ! Here's thrillers. What's
that ? ' Right — straight across — three four
— up ! ' Here's mysteries ! ' Right — cat —
dog — cat — dog — cat — dog — dog — cat — dog —
left eye, — push ' — there seem to be several
dogs after a good few cats. Perhaps it is my
stupidity, but, while it's very interesting, I
don't quite see what it means,"
Madge paid no attention to Martyn. She
kept her eyes fixed on his companion.
" What do you make of it, Mr, Graham .? "
she asked,
Bruce Graham continued silent for a moment
longer, keeping his eyes fixed upon the paper.
Then he looked up and met her glance.
" I think that we have here the key of the
riddle, if we could only read it."
134
MADGE . . . AND THE PANEL
" If we could only read it ! "
" Nor, from a superficial glance, should I
imagine that that would be very difficult."
" Nor I."
" One thing it seems to me that this paper
proves — that you were correct in your infer-
ence, and that last night's burglar was Charles
Ballingall."
" I am sure of it."
"You two," interposed Martyn, " appear to
be in thorough agreement — thorough ! Which
is the more delightful since you began by
disagreeing. But you must excuse my saying
that I don't quite see where the cause for
harmony comes in."
" Are you so stupid ^ "
" My dear Madge ! Don't strike me ! It's
constitutional."
" Don't you see what the situation really
is ? "
" Well — pardon me — but — really, you are
so warm. Miss Brodie. If this gentleman
135
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
were to allow me to study this interesting
document, I might."
" Somewhere in this house, the dead man,
Tom Ossington, concealed his fortune, all
that he had worth having. It is as clear as
if I saw the actual hiding place."
" My gracious goodness ! Is it .'' "
"It is within a few feet of where we're
standing. At this moment we're ' hot,' I
know — I feel it ! "
" Listen to that now ! Madge, you must
have second sight."
" That scrap of paper contains, as Mr.
Graham puts it, the key of the riddle. It's a
minute description of the precise whereabouts
of the dead man's hiding place. All we have
to do is to find out what it means, and if we
are not all idiots, that shouldn't be hard.
Why, you've only got to see the house ;
you've only to look about you, and use your
eyes, to at once perceive that it's honeycombed
with possible hiding places — just the sort of
136
MADGE . . . A}^D THE PANEL
crevices and crannies which would commend
themselves to such a man as this Tom Ossing-
ton. Look at this very room, for instance ;
it's wainscotted. That means, probably, that
between the outer wall and the wainscot
there's an open space — and who knows what
beside ? Listen ! " She struck the wains-
cot in question with her open palm. " You
can hear it has a hollow backing. Why "
— she touched it again more gently, then
stopped, as if puzzled — " why, the wood-work
moves." She gave a little cry, " Ella."
" Madge } "
They came crowding round her, with eager
faces.
137
CHAPTER IX
THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN
QHE had placed her hand against a portion
of the wainscotting which was about level
with her breast. As, in her excitement, she had
unconsciously pressed it upwards, the panel had
certainly moved. Between it and the wood
below there was a cavity of perhaps a quarter
of an inch.
" Push it ! Push it higher ! "
This was Jack. Apparently that was just
what Madge was endeavouring to do, in vain,
" It won't move. It's stuck — or some-
thing."
Mr. Graham advanced.
'' Allow me, perhaps I may manage."
She ceded to him her position. He placed
138
THE THING WHICH JVJS HIDDEN
his huge hand where her smaller one had been.
He endeavoured his utmost to induce the panel
to make a further movement,
*' Put your fingers into the opening," sug-
gested Jack, "and lever it."
Graham acted on the suggestion, without
success. He examined the panel closely.
"If it were ever intended to go higher, the
wood has either warped, or the groove in which
it slides has become choked with dust."
Ella was peeping through the opening.
"There is something inside — there is, I
don't know what it is, but there is something —
I can see it. Oh, Mr. Graham, can't you get
it open wider ! "
" Here, here ! let's get the poker ; we'll try
gentle persuasion."
Jack, forcing the point of the poker into the
cavity, leant his weight upon the handle. There
was a creaking sound — and nothing else.
" George ! it's stiff ! I'm putting on a
pressure of about ten tons."
139
rOM OSSINGTON*S GHOST
As he paused, preparatory to exerting greater
force, Madge, brushing him aside, caught the
poker from him. She drove the point against
the wainscot with all her strength — once,
twice, thrice. The wood was shivered into
fragments.
" There ! I think that's done the business."
So far as destroying the panel was concerned,
it certainly had. Only splinters remained.
The wall behind was left almost entirely bare.
They pressed forward to see what the act of
vandalism had disclosed.
Between the wainscot and the party-wall
there was a space of two or three inches.
Among the cobwebs and the dust there was
plainly something — something which was itself
so encrusted with a coating of dust as to make
it difficult, without closer inspection, to tell
plainly what it was.
Ella prevented Jack from making a grab at it.
" Let Madge take it — it's hers — she's the
finder,"
140
THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN
Madge, snatching at it with eager fingers,
withdrew the something from its hiding-place.
" Covered," exclaimed Jack, " with the dust
of centuries ! "
"It's covered," returned the more practical
Madge, "at any rate with the dust of a year
or two."
She wiped it with a napkin which she took
from the sideboard drawer.
" Why," cried Ella, " it's nothing but a sheet
of paper."
Jack echoed her words.
" That's all — blue foolscap — folded in four."
Madge unfolded what indeed seemed nothing
but a sheet of paper. The others craned their
necks to see what it contained. In spite of
them she managed to get a private peep at
the contents, and then closed it hastily.
" Guess what it is," she said.
"A draft on the Bank of Elegance for a
million sterling." This was Jack.
" I fancy it is some sort of legal document."
141
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
This was Graham. Ella declined to guess.
" Don't be so tiresome, Madge ; tell us what
it is ? "
" Mr. Graham is right — it is a legal
document. It's a will, the will of Thomas
Ossington. At least I believe it is. If you'll
give me breathing space I'll read it to you
every word."
She drew herself away from them. When
she was a little relieved of their too pressing
importunities, she unfolded the paper slowly —
with dramatic impressiveness.
" Listen — to a voice from the grave."
She read to them the contents of the docu-
ment, in a voice which was a trifle shaky : —
" I give and bequeath, absolutely, this house,
called Clover Cottage, which is my house, and
all else in the world which at present is, or,
in time to come, shall become my property,
to the person who finds my fortune, which
is hidden in this house, whoever the finder
may chance to be.
142
THE THING WHICH JFJS HIDDEN
" I desire that the said finder shall be the
sole heir to all my worldly goods, and shall
be at liberty to make such use of them as he
or she may choose.
" I do this because I have no one else to
whom to leave that of which I am possessed.
" I have neither kith nor kin — nor friend.
" My wife has left me, my friend has
betrayed me ; my child is dead.
" I am a lonely man.
" May my fortune bring more happiness to
the finder than it has ever brought to me.
" God grant it.
" This is my last will and testament.
"(Signed) Thomas Ossington,
"October the twenty-second, 1892.
" la the presence of Edward John Hurley,
Solicitor's Clerk,
13, Hercules Buildings, Holborn.
And of Louisa Broome,
2, Acacia Cottages, Battersea
(Maid-servant at present in the employ
of the said Thomas Ossington)."
143
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
The reading was followed by silence, possibly
the silence of amazement. The first observa-
tion came from Jack.
" By George ! "
The next was Ella's.
" Dear life ! "
For some reason, Madge's eyes were dim,
and her tone still shaking.
" Isn't it a voice from the grave ? " She
looked down, biting her lower lip ; then up
again. " I think, Mr. Graham, this may be
more in your line than ours."
She handed him the paper.
He read it. Without comment he passed
it to Jack, who read it with Ella leaning over
his shoulder. He placed it on the table,
where they all four gathered round and looked
at it.
The paper was stained here and there as
with spots of damp. But these had in no
way blurred the contents.
The words were as clear and legible as on
144
THE THING WHICH JVJS HIDDEN
the day they were written. The caligraphy
was small and firm, and a little finical, but
as easy to read as copperplate : the hand-
writing of a man who had taken his time,
and who had been conscious that he was en-
gaged on a weighty and a serious matter.
The testator's signature was rather in contrast
with the body of the document, and was bold
and strong, as if he had desired that the
witnesses should have no doubt about the
fact that it was his name he was affixing.
Edward John Hurley's attestation was in a
cramped legal hand, expressionless, while Louisa
Broome's was large and straggling, the sign-
manual of an uneducated woman.
Jack Marty n asked a question, addressed to
Graham.
" Is it a will ? — a valid one, I mean ^ "
" Looking at it on the surface, I should say
certainly — if the witnesses can be produced to
prove the signatures. Indeed, given certain
circumstances, even that should not be neces-
145 L
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
sary. The man expresses his wishes ; their
meaning is perfectly plain ; he gives reasons
for them. No testator need do more than
that. What may seem the eccentric devising
of his property is, in his position, easily
accounted for, and is certainly consistent with
entire sanity. Thousands of more eccentric
documents have been held to be good in law.
I have little doubt — if the testator's signature
can be proved — that the will is as sound as
if it had been drawn up by a bench of
judges."
Madge drew a long breath. Jack was
jocular, or meant to be. " Think of that,
now ! "
" But I don't see," said Ella, " that we're
any forwarder now, or that we're any nearer
to Madge's mysterious hoard. The will — if
it is a will — says that the fortune is hidden
in the house, but it doesn't give the faintest
notion where. We might pull the whole place
to pieces and then not find it."
146
THE THING WHICH JVJS HIDDEN
"Suppose the whole affair is a practical
joke ? "
Mr. Graham commented on Jack's insinua-
tion.
"I have been turning something over in
my mind, and I think, Martyn, that I can
bring certain facts to bear upon your suppo-
sition which will go far to show that it is
unlikely that there is much in the nature of
a practical joke about the matter. I want to
call attention to Miss Brodie's copy of the
paper which the burglar left behind last night
— to the second line. Now observe." He
crossed the room. "The paper says 'Right'
— I have the door-post on my right, close to
my right arm. The paper says 'straight
across'— I walk straight across the room.
Miss Brodie, have you a tape measure ? "
Madge produced one which she ferreted
out of a work-basket which was on a chair
in a corner.
" The paper says ' three '—I measure three
147
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
feet from where I am standing, along the
wainscot — you see ? It says ' four ' — I measure
four feet from the floor. As you perceive,
that measurement brings us exactly to the panel
behind which the will was hidden. The paper
says ' up.' As Miss Brodie showed, there can
be no doubt whatever that the panel was meant
to move up. Owing to the efflux of time and
to disuse, it had become jammed. Does not
all this suggest that we have here an expla-
nation of part of what was written on the
burglar's paper ? "
" It does, by George ! Graham," cried Jack,
" I always did know you had a knack of
clarifying muddles. Your mental processes
are as effective, in their way, as a handful
of isinglass dropped into a cask of muddy beer.
Ladies, I give you my word they are."
Martyn was ignored.
" If, therefore, part of the paper is capable
of explanation of such a striking kind, does
it not seem probable that the rest of it also
148
THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN
has a meaning — a meaning which does not
partake of the nature of a practical joke ? "
" The idea," declared Madge, " of a practical
joke is utter nonsense. As you say, everything
points the other way. It is as clear as anything
can be that, while one part of the paper is a
key to the hiding-place of the will, the other
is the key to the hiding-place of the fortune."
" Very well," said Jack. " Let's grant it.
I stand snubbed. But perhaps you'll tell us
what is the key to the key } "
*' That's another question."
" Very much another question."
" But it needn't be an insoluble one, if we
use our wits. The house isn't a large one ;
it isn't as though it contained a hundred
rooms."
Mr. Graham had been studying the scrap
of paper.
"This allusion to cats and dogs seems a
striking one. I notice that each word is
repeated five times. Is there anything about
149
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
the house which gives you a hint as to the
meaning ? "
Madge replied to the question with another.
" Is there anything in this room which gives
you a hint ? Look around and see."
" 1 have been looking round, and I confess
there isn't. Nor do I think it likely that
the fortune would be hidden in the same
room which contained the will."
*' Very well ; then we'll all of us go over
the house together, and we'll all of us look
out for hints."
Madge led the way, and they went over
the house.
It was a tiny one. Behind the solitary
sitting-room was the kitchen. The kitchen
was an old-fashioned one, with brick floor,
and bare brick walls coloured white. In one
corner a door led into the pantry ; in another
was a door into the scullery ; there was nothing
remarkable about either of these. Under the
staircase was a roomy cupboard. They ex-
150
THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN
amined it with some thoroughness, by the aid
of a lamp, without discovering anything out
of the way. On the floor above were the
bedrooms used by Ella and Madge, and a
smaller room in which they stored their lumber.
The walls of these were papered from floor to
ceiling, and in none of them did there seem
to be anything calculated to convey a hint as
to the meaning of the cabalistic allusion.
"It seems to me," observed Jack, when the
work of exploration was completed, " that
there's nothing about these premises breathing
of either dogs or cats."
" It is just possible," said Graham, " that
they may be in the grounds. For instance,
several of them may be buried there, and the
reference may be to one of their graves."
" Then do you propose to dig up the whole
of the back garden till you light upon their
hallowed bones } "
Graham smiled.
" I propose to do nothing."
151
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Madge struck in.
" But I do ; I mean to do a great deal.
I'm going to strip all the wainscot off the
sitting-room wall, and all the flooring up as
well. And I'm going to continue that process
till we reach the roof. I'm absolutely certain
— absolutely certain, mind you ! — that that
unhappy man's hoard is somewhere within the
four walls of this house, and I give you my
word that I mean to find it." 'Q
"How about the landlord.^" asked Graham.
" What about his feelings ? By the way, who
is the landlord ^ "
" We're the landlord, Ella and I — or, at
any rate, we very soon shall be."
" But in the meantime .? "
'' I don't know anything about a landlord.
We took the house from Parker and Beading,
the house agents over by the station."
" They would probably be acting for some
principal. Did they not tell you his name ? "
" They told us nothing. We took the
152
THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN
house from them, and the supposition is that
we're to pay the rent to them."
" If you will allow me, I'll take the will
away with me — if you will trust me with it —
and obtain expert opinion as to its validity.
I will also call on Messrs. Parker and Beading,
and ascertain, if possible, on whose authority
they are acting."
" When will you do this .? "
" The agents I will call upon to-morrow,
and will acquaint you, by letter, with the
result."
" You will do nothing of the kind — or,
rather, I would prefer that you did not. Both
Ella and I would prefer that you should come
and tell us the result in person — that is if you
can spare the time,"
Mr. Graham bowed, expressing acquiescence
in the lady's wishes. And on that understanding
the matter was left.
When the two men had gone, Ella faced
Madge with sparkling eyes.
153
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Suppose, Madge, there should be a fortune
hidden somewhere in the house ? "
Madge was scornful.
" Suppose ! — there's no supposition about it.
It's a certainty, I know there is."
" And suppose you should find it — it would
be yours. What would you do with it ? "
" What a question ! We shall find it all
four of us together. It will be share and share
alike."
" What — Mr. Graham too ? "
Possibly the question was put maliciously.
It provoked Miss Brodie to wrath.
" Mr. Graham too .? Ella, what can you
mean ? If it hadn't been for Mr. Graham
we should have known nothing whatever about
it. I suppose that, in strict equity, the whole
of it would be his. Whatever can you mean
by saying ' Mr. Graham too ^ ' in such a tone
as that ! "
" My dear, I meant no harm. Really you're
a trifle warm — don't you think you are ^ "
154
THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN
'*iWarm ! It's enough to make any one
a trifle warm to hear you talk like that."
Ella made a little face behind Miss Brodie's
back.
" Well, fortune or no fortune, I do hope
that no more burglars will come and look for
it again to-night."
"If they do," declared Madge, with a
viciousness which presaged violence, " they'll
not find us unprepared. I shall sleep with
Jack's revolver at my bedside, and if you like
you can have half my bed again."
Ella's manner was much more mild.
"Thank you, my dear ; since you're so good
—I think I will."
CHAPTER X
MADGE FINDS HERSELF IN AN AWKWARD
SITUATION
' I 'HERE was no burglar. The night was
undisturbed ; and the next day was, for
both, a busy one.
The morning post brought Madge an inti-
mation from a publisher to whom she had
submitted one of her MSS., that he would be
obliged if, when she was in town, she would
call on him, so that she might discuss with him
terms for its publication. That business-like
memorandum made her heart beat faster ; sent
the blood coursing quickly through her veins ;
added a sparkle to her eyes. This, after all,
was the sort of fortune she preferred — one
156
AN AWKWARD SITUATION
for which she had striven with her own brains
and hands — better than hidden hoards ! The
simple breakfast became an Elysian feast.
Ella was almost as jubilant as she herself
was.
" Northcote & Co. .? That's a good house,
isn't it .? "
" Rather. They published " Madge
-reeled off the names of two or three pro-
nounced fictional successes.
" How much do you think they'll give you
for it .? "
" In cash ^ — not much ; don't you think I
shall bring home the Bank of England. So
long as they give me a fair share of anything
it may ultimately bring, I'll be content. But
it isn't that ; it's getting the first footing on
the ladder — that's the thing."
" Of course it is. How splendid ! And I'll
tell you what ; you shall dedicate it to me, and
then if it sells by the hundred thousand, I
shall have a bit of your fame."
157
TOM OSSINGION'S GHOST
" Done ! — and your name upon the flyleaf
ought to help to sell the book : it's as well
known as mine is, anyhow. The author's
spoken — you shall be the dedicatee ? "
They went up to town together. Ella had
to be at her office at half-past nine, and it is
true that that seemed a trifle early to make
a call upon a publisher. But, as Ella correctly
observed, "You can look at the shops until it
is time."
Which is precisely what Madge did do.
And it is remarkable how many things she
saw in the shop windows which she mentally
resolved to purchase if the book succeeded.
Such an unusual number of useful things seemed
to be displayed. And it certainly is odd what
a quantity of them were just the articles which
Ella and she particularly required.
Her interview with the publisher was a
delightful one. She agreed to everything he
proposed. His propositions were not quite on
the scale of magnificence which she had con-
158
JN AWKWARD SITUATION
ceived as being within the range of possibility.
But still, they were near enough to be satis-
factory. She was to have a sum of money
paid her on the publication of the book — not
a large sum, but still something. And there
was to be royalty besides. When she hinted,
almost as if she had been hinting at something
of which she ought to be ashamed, that if part
of the money were paid before publication it
would be esteemed a favour, that publisher
went so far as to draw a check for half the
amount, and to hand it to her then and there.
It is a fact that Madge Brodie was an un-
commonly pretty girl — but such an accident
was not likely to make any impression on the
commercial instincts of a creature who battens
upon authors.
She went straight off and cashed that cheque.
When she had the coin in her pocket — actually
in her pocket — she felt the financial equal of
a Rothschild. She lunched all by herself at a
restaurant in the neighbourhood of Charing
159
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Cross — and a nice little lunch she had ; made
some purchases, with one eye on Ella and
another on herself ; and then she went and
gave a music lesson to Miss Clara Parkins,
whose father is the proprietor of the Belvedere
Tavern — that well-known hostelry, within a
hundred miles of Wandsworth Common,
Miss Parkins was within a year or two of
her own age, an uncommonly shrewd young
woman, and a pleasant one to boot. The
lesson had not been proceeding two minutes
before she perceived that something was dis-
turbing the ordinarily tranquil currents of her
teacher's mind. When the lesson was finished,
she made a valiant effort to find out what that
something was.
She looked down, and she picked at the nap
of her frock, and she asked, a tone or two
under her usual key :
" What is it .? I wish you'd tell me."
Madge stared ; nothing which had gone
before had led to such a question.
1 60
JN AWKWARD SITUATION
" What is what ? "
" What is it which makes you — all brim-
ming over ? "
Madge went red. She was an arrant little
snob, and by no means proud of giving music
lessons to a publican's daughter — although that
publican's daughter was the best paying pupil
she had, and not the least agreeable. She was
on her stilts in a moment.
" I don't understand you."
" That's a story. Of course it's no business
of mine. But you do seem so happy, and
I think that sharing other people's happiness
is almost as good as being happy yourself
— don't you ? But I'm awfully sorry I
asked."
Miss Parkins' air of contrition melted
Madge's mood. As she adjusted her veil, she
condescended to explain.
" I have had rather a stroke of luck."
" I'm awfully glad to hear it. Of course
I know you think nothing of me ; but I think
l6l M
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
no end of you. I do hope that some one
has left you a fortune."
" I like it as well as if some one had, though
I daresay you'll think it's nothing. I've sold
a book."
" A book ? Oh ! — one of your own writing .?
I knew you were clever. When is it coming
out.?"
" We've hardly got so far as dates."
" When it does come, I'll buy a dozen and
pay for them, if you'll give me one with your
name inside."
" I'll give you the one without there being
the necessity for your buying the dozen."
" I knew you'd say that. I know you don't
think I'm good enough to buy your book.
But I don't mind. I hope it will be a success."
" That's very kind of you."
" And it will be, I'm sure of it. You're
the sort that does succeed."
" How do you make that out .? "
" I don't know exactly — but you are.
162
AN AWKWARD SITUATION
You've got the air of success about you. I
noticed it when first I spoke to you. And
when people have got the air of success, you'll
generally find that they get the thing itself"
"You student of the world !"
She stooped and kissed the girl. It was
the first familiarity they had exchanged.
Miss Parkins put her arms about her neck
and kissed her in return — a half quizzical
something in her eyes.
" You mark my word — you're the sort that
does succeed ! "
Madge walked home with an added feeling
of elation. She laughed at the girl's preten-
sion to what almost amounted to prophetic
insight — yet wondered if there might not be
something in what she said. At any rate it
was nice to be believed in, even by Miss
Parkins. She felt that she had done the young
woman an injustice. A publican's daughter,
after all, is flesh and blood. If the book suc-
ceeded, should opportunity offer, she would
163
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
place it upon public record that Clara Parkins
had foretold its success — which would be fame
for Clara. She smiled at her own conceit.
The possibility that she might one day become
an important person only loomed on the hori-
zon since the advent of that note in the
morning.
Immersed in such thoughts, almost unwit-
tingly she arrived at Clover Cottage. Insert-
ing her latchkey in the keyhole, she turned
and opened the door. Almost as soon as she
did so, it was thrust violently back on h^r,
and banged in her face. She was so startled
that, for a second or two, she stared at the
closed door as if in doubt as to what had really
happened. She had been, in imagination, so
far away that it required positive effort on her
part to bring herself back to earth.
" Well," she muttered, below her breath,
" that's cool. I wonder who did that. Per-
haps it was the wind."
She did not stay to consider how the wind
164
AN AWKWARD SITUATION
could have behaved in such an eccentric man-
ner. She gave her key another twist, and the
door a push. But the key refused to act, or
to move, in the direction required, and the
door stood still. This, under the circum-
stances, singular behaviour of the key and the
door, seemed to rouse her to a clearer percep-
tion of the situation. She gave the key a
further twist, exerting all her strength.
" What is the matter ^ It turned easily
enough just now."
It would not turn then, try how she might,
and the door would not budge.
" Can the catch have fallen ^ I don't see
how ; it has never done anything of the
kind before. I wonder if some one's having
a joke with me ; perhaps Ella has returned."
Acting on the supposition, though it was
two hours in advance of the time at which
Miss Duncan might be generally expected,
she knocked at the door. None answered.
She knocked again — louder. If Ella was
165
'JOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
having a jest at her expense it was hardly to
be expected that she would put an end to the
joke by answering her first summons. She
knocked again and again — without result.
" This is charming — to be locked out of
my own house is not what I expected."
She drew back, in order to survey the
premises. Nothing was to be seen.
" Perhaps I'd better try the back door.
Since the fron_t seems hermetically closed, the
back may be open for a change."
But it was not. She rattled at the handle ;
shook the door ; rapped at the panels with
her knuckles. No one heeded her. She re-
turned to the front — with a curious feeling
of discomfiture.
" What can have happened ^ It's very odd.
The door opened easily enough at first — it
felt as if some one had pulled it from within.
I wonder — Hullo ! that's the time of day is
it ? I saw that curtain move. I fancy now,
Miss Ella Duncan, that I've caught you —
i66
AN AJVKJVARD SITUATION
you are amusing yourself inside. I'ii give that
knocker a hammering which I'll engage to say
you shall hear."
She was as good as her word — so far as the
hammering was concerned. She kept up a
hideous tattoo for some three or four minutes
without cessation. But though it is not im-
possible that the din was audible on the other
side of the Common, within none heeded. She
was becoming annoyed. Going to the sitting-
room window, she tapped sharply at the
frame.
" Ella, I saw you ! Don't be so silly !
Open the door ! You'll have all the neigh-
bourhood about the place. It's too bad of
you to keep me outside like this."
It might be too bad ; but the offender
showed no sign of relenting. Madge struck
her knuckles against the pane with force
enough to break the glass.
" Ella ! "
Still silence.
167
TOM OSSJNGTON'S GHOST
'' How can you be so stupid — and unkind !
Ella, open the door ! Or is it you, Jack ?
Don't think I didn't see you, because I did —
I saw you move the curtain."
She might have done, but the curtain was
motionless enough now. Madge was losing
her temper fast. In her estimation, to be
kept out of the house like this was carrying
a sufficiently bad joke a good deal too far.
"If you don't open the door at once, I
shall break the glass and let myself in that
way ! "
She assailed the window-pane with a degree
of violence which suggested that she meant
what she said ; then flattened her nose against
it in an endeavour to discover who might be
within. While she peered, the door was opened,
and some one did come in. She started back.
" Who on earth "
She was going to say. " Who on earth is
that ? " But when she got so far, she stopped
— because she knew. At least in part.
i68
AN AWKWARD SITUATION
First through the door there came a woman.
And, although she could scarcely credit the
evidence of her own eyesight, in her she
recognised the visitor of the day but one
before — the creature who had persisted in
calling herself " the ghost's wife." At her
heels there was a man, a perfect stranger to
Madge. Having recognised the woman, she
looked to see in her companion the loafer of
the previous afternoon — but this certainly was
not he. This was a miserable, insignificant-
looking fellow, very much down at heel — and
apparently very much down at everything else.
The woman, with impudent assurance, came
striding straight to the window. The man
hung back, exhibiting in his bearing every
symptom of marked discomfort.
The female, as brazen-faced as if she was
on the right side of the window, stared at
Madge. And Madge stared at her — amazed.
So amazed, indeed, that for a moment or
two she was at a loss for words. When they
169
TOM OSS/NGTON'S GHOST
came at last, they came in the form of an
inquiry.
" What," she asked, " are you doing there ? "
The woman waved her hand — in fact, she
waved both her hands — as if repelling some
noxious insect.
" Go away ! " she cried ; " go away ! This
house is mine — mine ! "
Madge gasped. That the creature was mad,
at the best, she made no doubt. But that
conviction, in the present situation, was of
small assistance. What was she to do ?
As she asked herself this question, with no
slight sense of helplessness, the gate clicked
behind her. Some one entered the garden.
It was Bruce Graham.
170
CHAPTER XI
UNDER THE SPELL
" lyr R. GRAHAM ! " she exclaimed. " Really,
I do believe that if I had been asked
what thing I most desired at this particular
moment, I should have answered — you ! "
Graham's sombre features were chastened by
a smile.
" That's very good of you."
" Look here ! " Laying one hand against
his arm, with the other she pointed at the
sitting-room window. His glance followed
her finger-tips.
"Who's that.?"
" That's what I should very much like to
ascertain."
171
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" I don't quite follow you. Do you mean
that you don't know who she is?"
" I only know that I've been away all day,
and that on my return I find her there.
How she got there I can't say — but she
seems determined to keep me out."
" You don't mean that ! And have you no
notion who the woman is ? She looks half
mad."
" I should think she must be quite mad.
It's the woman who forced herself into the
house the day before yesterday after you had
gone — that's all I know of her. This time
she is not alone ; she has a man in there
with her."
" A man ! Not— Ballingall ? "
" No, not Ballingall. At least, I only caught
a glimpse of him — but it's not the man who
was watching you. From her behaviour the
woman must be perfectly insane."
" We'll soon make an end of her, insane
or not."
172
UNDER THE SPELL
Graham went to the window. The woman,
completely unabashed, had remained right in
front of it, an observant spectator of their
proceedings. He spoke to her.
" Open the door at once ! "
She repeated the gesture she had used to
Madge — raising her voice, at the same time,
to a shrill scream.
" Go away ! go away ! This house is mine
— mine ! I don't want any trespassers here."
Graham turned to Madge.
" Do you authorise me to gain an entry ? "
" Certainly. I don't want to spend the
night out here."
Permission was no sooner given than the
thing was done. Grasping the upper sash of
the window with both his hands, Graham
brought it down with a run, tearing away the
hasp from its fastening as if it had been so
much thread. It was a capital object-lesson
of the utility of such a safeguard against the
wiles of a muscular burglar. The upper sash
173
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
being lowered, in another moment the lower
one was raised. Mr. Graham was in the
room. The woman was possibly too astonished
by the unceremonious nature of his proceedings
to attempt any resistance, even had she felt
disposed.
Graham addressed Miss Brodie through the
window.
" Will you come this way } or shall I open
the door ? "
" If you wouldn't mind, I'd rather you
opened the door."
He opened the door. Presently they were
in the sitting-room, face to face with the
intruders. Graham took them to task — the
woman evincing no sign of discomposure.
" Who are you, and what is the meaning of
your presence on these premises ? "
" This house is mine — mine i It's all of it
mine ! And who are you, that you ask such
a question — of a lady ? "
She crossed her hands on her breast with an
174
UNDER THE SPELL
assumption of dignity which, in a woman of
her figure and scarecrow-Hke appearance, was
sufficiently ludicrous. Graham eyed her as if
subjecting her to a mental appraisement. Then
he turned to the man.
" And pray, sir, what explanation have you
to offer of the felony you are committing ? "
This man was a little, undergrown fellow,
with sharp hatchet-shaped features, and bent
and shrunken figure. He had on an old grey
suit of clothes, which was three or four sizes too
large for him, the trousers being turned up in a
thick roll over the top of an oft-patched pair of
side-spring boots. There was about him none
of the assurance which marked the woman — the
air of bravado which he attempted to wear fitted
him as ill as his garments.
" I ain't committed no felony, not likely.
She asked me to come to her house — so I come.
She says to me, ' You come along o' me to my
house, and I'll give you a bit of something to
eat.' Now didn't you } "
175
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Certainly. I suppose a gentleman is allowed
to visit a lady if she asks him."
The dreadful-looking woman, as she stood
with her head thrown back, and her nose in the
air, presented a picture of something which was
meant for condescension, which was not without
its pathos.
" Of course ! — ain't that what I'm saying ^
She come here, and she took a key out of her
pocket, and she put it in the keyhole, and she
opened the door, all quite regular, and she says,
' This here's my house,' and she asked me to
come in, so of course I come in."
" Do you mean to say that she gained en-
trance to this house by means of a key which
she took from her pocket ? "
" Course ! How do you suppose we came
in ? — through the window ? Not hardly, that's
not my line, and so I tell you."
Graham returned to the woman.
" Be so good as to give me the key with
which you obtained admission to these premises."
176
UNDER THE SPELL
The woman put her hand up to her neck,
for the first time showing signs of discomposure.
" The key ? "
Starting back, she looked about her wildly,
and broke into a series of shrill exclamations.
" The key ! — my key ! — no ! — no ! — no ! —
It is all I have left — the only thing I've got.
I've kept it through everything — I've never
parted from it once. I won't give it you — no ! "
She came closer to him,- glaring at him with
terrible eyes.
"It's my key — mine ! I took it with me
when I went that night. He was sitting in
here, and I came downstairs with the key in my
pocket, and I went — and he never knew. And
I've kept it ever since, because I've always said
that one day when I went back I should want
my key to let me in : I hate to have to stand
on the step while they are letting me in."
Mr. Graham was regarding her intently, as
if he was endeavouring to read what stood with
her in the place of a soul.
177 N
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Is your name Ossington ? "
" Ossington ? Ossington ? " She touched the
sides of her forehead with the tips of her
fingers, glancing about her affrightedly, as if
making an effort to recall her surroundings.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. " Who said
Ossington ? Who said it ^ Who asked if my
name was — Ossington } "
Mr. Graham addressed Miss Brodie,
" With your permission I should like to
speak to this woman — after the man has gone."
In his last words there was meaning.
" By all means, if you wish it. Get rid of
him at once. At the best the fellow is an
impudent intruder, and the story he tells is a
ridiculously lame one. He must have been
perfectly well aware that a woman of this sort
was not likely to possess a house of her own,
and that accepting what he calls her invitation
he was committing felony."
The fellov/ in question shook his head as if
he felt himself ill-used.
178
UNDER THE SPELL
" I call that hard — cruel hard. If the young
lady was to think of it for half a moment she'd
see as it was cruel hard."
" The young lady declines to think of it.
Have the goodness to take yourself away, and
consider yourself lucky that you are allowed to
escape scot free."
The man moved towards the door, endeav-
ouring to bear himself as if he were doing so of
his own free will. He spoke to the woman.
" Ain't you coming with me ,^ "
" Yes, I'm coming."
She hastened towards him. Graham inter-
posed.
" Let him go. There are one or two things
about which we should like to speak to you, this
young lady and I, after he has gone."
But she would have none of him. Shrinking
back, she stared at him, in silence, for a second
or two ; then began to shriek at him like
some wild creature.
" I won't stay !— I won't ! — I shall go ! — I
17Q
TOAI OSSINGTON'S GHOST
shall ! You tried to get my key — my key !
You touch it — you dare ! You asked me if my
name " — she stopped, stared about as if in
terror, gave a great sigh, " You asked me if
my name "
She stopped again — and sighed again, the
pupils of her eyes dilating as she watched and
listened for what was invisible and inaudible to
all but her. Graham moved forward, intending
to soothe her. Mistaking, apparently, his
intention, she rushed at him with outstretched
arms, giving utterance to yell after yell. In
a moment she was past him and flying from
the house.
Her male companion, who stood still in the
doorway, pointed his thumb over his shoulder
with a grin.
" There you are, you see — drove her out of
her seven senses ! So you have."
Much more leisurely, the man went after the
woman.
For some reason, when Mr. Bruce Graham
1 80
UNDER THE SPELL
and Miss Brodie were left alone, nothing was
said about the recent visitors.
" If you'll sit down and wait," remarked
Miss Brodie, " I'll go and take my things
off."
Having returned from performing those
sacred offices, the topic still remained un-
touched. Possibly that was because there were
so many things which needed doing. When one
has been out all day, and keeps no maid, when
one returns there are things which must be
done. For instance, there was a fire to make.
Miss Brodie observed that there ought to have
been two, one in the kitchen, and one in the
sitting-room ; but declared that folks would
have to be content with one.
And that one Bruce Graham made.
She brought in the wood, and the coal, and
the paper ; and then she went to fetch the
matches. When she returned she caught him
in the act.
" What are you doing .^ " she demanded.
t8i
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
He was on his knees on the hearthrug, with
some sticks in his hand.
" Making a fire — on scientific principles.
I'm a scientific expert at this kind of thing.
Women's methods are unscientific as a rule."
" Indeed." Her air was scornful. " Men
always think they can make fires. It's most
surprising."
She commented on his methods — particularly
when he took the pieces of coal from the
scuttle, and placed them in their places with
his fingers,
" That's right ! Men always use their
fingers to put coal on the fire — if they can.
It's an agreeable habit."
He continued calm.
" It's scientific, strictly scientific ; and may
be logically defended, especially when a fire is
being lighted. Heaping on coal with a shovel
is unscientific — in the highest degree."
He struck a match ; presently the paper was
in flames.
182
UNDER THE SPELL
" Now you had better go and wash your
hands. You'll have to do it in the scullery ; and
by the time you're done, the fire will be out."
But the fire was not out. It was a complete
success. The kettle was put on, preparations
were made for tea, and the table was laid,
Graham showing a talent for rendering
assistance which was not accorded the thanks
it might have been. Madge was chilly.
" I should imagine you were rather a handy
person to have about the house."
" There are diversities of gifts ; let us hope
that each of us has at least one."
" Exactly. But, unfortunately, I do not care
to see a man, what is called, ' making himself
useful about the house ' — if your gift lies in
that direction. I suppose it is because I am
not enough of a New Woman. Perhaps now
you've given me your assistance in laying the
cloth, you will give me some music."
He was smoothing a corner of the cloth in
question — and looked down.
183
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" It is you who are the teacher."
She flashed up at him.
" What do you mean by that .? "
" It is true — is it not ? "
'* If you wish me to understand that you
would rather not play, have the goodness to say
so plainly."
Whereupon he sat down — and played. And
Madge listened.
When he stopped, she was looking away
from him, toward the fire. Tears were in her
eyes,
" I suppose you are a genius ? "
Her voice seemed a little strained. He
shook his head.
" No — the music comes out of the ends of
my fingers."
He went on playing. When he ceased,
again she turned to him — with passionate eyes.
" I never heard any one play like you before."
" It's because I'm in the mood."
He played on. It seemed to her that he
184
UNDER THE SPELL
spoke to her out of the soul of music. She sat
still and listened. Her heart-strings tightened,
her pulses throbbed, her cheeks burned ; every
nerve in her frame was on the alert. Never
had such things been said to her before. She
could have cried — and would have cried, if she
had dared. The message breathed to her by
Bruce Graham's playing told of a world of
which she, unconsciously, had dreamed.
He played ; and she sat and listened, in the
firelight, till Ella came home to tea.
And with Ella came Jack Martyn.
185
CHAPTER XII
TOM OSSINGTOn's LAWYER
T T was while they were seated at table that
Bruce Graham told them of the result of his
investigations. Although, for some reason, the
subject had not been mentioned when Madge
and he had been alone together, that young
lady showed herself alert and eager enough
then. Nor, in that respect, was Ella behind
her friend, while Martyn concealed an interest
which was probably equal to theirs under
ponderous attempts at jocularity.
It was Jack who brought him to the point.
" If the honourable and learned gentleman
has sufficiently refreshed himself with the cup
i86
TOM OSSINGTON'S LJJFTER
that cheers, would he oblige the company by
mentioning if he has done anything in the
matter of the Hidden Treasure — with capitals
please ! — and, if so, what ? "
" I have at least found that everything points
to there being such a hidden treasure — in spite
of Jack's pretended scepticism."
" My pretended scepticism ! Sir, I would
have you know that I am no sceptic ; or, if
I am, never was one more willing to be
converted to the faith."
Ella interposed.
" And, Mr. Graham, you really think there
is a hidden treasure .? "
" I think it extremely probable."
" Tell us all about it. What have you been
doing ^ All day long I have been dreaming in
the City of what would happen if we did light
upon a secret hoard. It really would be too
splendid for words."
The young lady looked the eagerness which
the words suggested — like an imaginative child
187
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
who pictures the materiaUsation of some favourite
tale of faerie.
" To begin with, I went to the house agents
to learn for whom they are acting."
" Well, and what did they say ? "
" They were not particularly willing to say
anything — as I expected. They were apparently
under the impression that I intended to take the
bread out of their mouths, by dealing with their
principals direct. But when I had succeeded in,
at any rate, partly reassuring them, they informed
me they were acting for a firm of solicitors —
Messrs. Nicholls & Hawkins, 3, South Square,
Gray's Inn."
" Well, and what did you do then ? "
" I went to the solicitors."
" It is awfully good of you to take so much
trouble. And what did they say ^ "
" As it happened, I had some knowledge of
the firm. My father was on terms of friendship
with their senior partner, so that when I intro-
duced myself to Mr. Nicholls as my father's son,
188
TOM OSSINGTON'S LJIVy'ER
the way was smoothed for me. They have the
reputation of being a steady-going, old-fashioned
firm, and I found them as open and above-board
as they very well could have been. When I
mentioned my errand, Mr. Nicholls was all alive
at once."
" ' Messrs. Palmer & Beading, of Wands-
worth,' I began, ' inform me that in letting
Clover Cottage they are instructed by you.
May I ask who is the owner of the pro-
perty ^ '
" When I said that, he sat up straight in
his chair, and, as I observed, became all alive
—oh.
" ' May I inquire, in return, why you ask the
question ? '
" ' The question,' I admitted, ' is a little
irregular ; but I take it that you will have
no objection to give me an answer.'
" ' Not the slightest. On the contrary, we
shall be delighted if you will help us to throw
light into what is, at present, a very dark
189
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
corner ; because, as a matter of fact, so far
as we are concerned, there is no owner.'
" ' The late Thomas Ossington died intes-
tate ! '
" ' So far as our knowledge goes.'
" ' Leaving instructions that you should act
on his behalf ? '
" ' Not a bit of it. So far as we're aware, he
left no instructions of any sort or kind. We
have assumed a responsibility of which we
should be glad to be rid. Do you know the
man's history ? '
" ' I know something of it — though I con-
fess, candidly, that I should like to know more.
My own connection with the matter is a curious
one. At a later stage I will tell you exactly
what it is. In the interim, I assure you, on my
word of honour, that any information you can
give me shall be used for the furtherance of
justice, and for that only.'
" ' Very good ; so long as right is done, all
that we require is to be relieved of a very awk-
190
rOM OSSINGTON'S LJIFTER
ward situation. You know that Ossington
was — peculiar ? '
" ' Not insane ?'
" ' Insane ? — No ; he was as sane as you are
— every whit. But he was a disappointed man.
He was malformed — the muscles of one leg
were paralysed. As he grew older, the par-
alysis increased, until it extended up the whole
of one side, and, at last, it killed him. He
married a girl who acted as book-keeper at an
hotel, at which he was in the habit of stopping,
at Ilfracombe. She turned out a regular bad
lot — finally running away with a man named
Ballingall.'
" ' Charles Ballingall } '
" ' That's the man. Do you know him ^ '
'"I have acted for him professionally.'
" ' Have you } Then let me inform you,
without prejudice, that you have acted for as
rascally a scamp as ever trod the earth. Ossing-
ton regarded him as a particular friend ; and,
as particular friends sometimes have a knack of
191
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
doing, he borrowed no end of money from
Ossington, ending by robbing him not only of
his money, but of his wife as well. The
double blow almost broke Ossington's heart,
and during the remainder of his existence he
lived the life of a recluse. But, until then,
we had acted for him continually. For in-
stance, we had acted for him in the purchase
of Clover Cottage.'
" ' Do you hold the deeds of the house .? '
" ' Not a deed. We hold nothing. All that
we have are the various letters which he wrote
to us at various times, on business. We had
heard nothing of him for months, when one
morning we received a telegram asking us to
go at once to Clover Cottage. I went myself
— I liked the man. He was, in his way, as
fine a gentleman as I ever met. He had been
cruelly used by friend and fortune. I found
him dead — alone in the house there, with a
maid and a doctor ; dead — killed, according
to the medical testimony, by a paralytic afFec-
192
TOM OSSINGTON'S LAin^ER
tioii of the heart ; but actually, as sure as
you and I are alive, by the wicked wanton
usage of those he had held dear. Now here
the queer part of the thing comes in.
" ' His last words had been an instruction to
send for us ; but that was the only instruction
he had given. I myself searched the house from
top to bottom, and, as you know, it is not a
large one. I had it searched by others — every
nook and cranny. Not a scrap of writing could
be discovered — letter, note, or memorandum.
Not a document of any sort of kind. Nothing
whatever to show of what he had died possessed,
or to whom it was to go.'
" ' You had reasons to suppose that he had
means } '
" ' Every reason ! We had every reason to
believe him to be a man of comfortable
means. We ourselves had, on more than one
occasion, acted for him in matters involving
thousands of pounds. We applied to the
National and Provincial Bank — where we were
193 o
TOAI OSSINGTON'S GHOST
aware he had an account. They informed us
that he had closed the account some two
months previously, and that on that occasion
they had handed him over six thousand pounds
in notes on the Bank of England. They gave
us a list of the numbers of the notes ; and not
one of them has been presented for payment to
this day.'
" ' Is that so .? '
'"It is. We furnished the Bank with a copy
of the list, requesting them to notify us should
one of them come in : as yet not a single one
of them has made its appearance. Where are
those notes ? Surely, if they were in the pos-
session of any living person, ere this some of
them would have been presented. Where are
the title deeds of Clover Cottage — and of other
properties, of which he was the undoubted
owner ^ He is the registered holder of ten
thousand Great Northern Railway Stock. Since
his death, the dividends on it have remained un-
claimed. Where is the scrip ? With the rest,
194
TOM OSSINGTON'S LATFTER
has it vanished into air ? In a box in his bed-
room were forty-seven pounds in gold. That
was all the cash the house contained. We
buried him in Wandsworth Cemetery ; Haw-
kins, I, and the doctor were the only mourners.
We sold the furniture, paid the expenses, and
the balance stands to the credit of the estate.
We advertised for next of kin, without results.
We advertised also for information as to the
whereabouts of any property of which he might
have died possessed — such as title-deeds, and
anything of that kind. You understand that
there is a delicate question as to who is entitled
to collect the rents of other properties which
we believe to have been his freehold. But
nothing came of that. Clover Cottage we
placed in the hands of Messrs. Parker and
Beading, but only recently liave they succeeded
in letting it — I believe to two single ladies.'
" ' So I understand.' "
Jack struck in.
" You are the two single ladies. You,"
195
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
pointing to Ella, " are one of them, and
you," pointing to Madge, " are the other."
Ella was impatient.
"Jack, I do wish you wouldn't interrupt. —
Mr. Graham, do go on. It's like a romance.
My curiosity is such that I feel as if I were all
pins and needles."
Bruce Graham continued.
" ' And you, Mr. Nicholls,' I said, ' have
you formed no theory of your own upon the
subject ^ '
" Old Nicholls leaned back in his chair. He
put his hands into his two pockets, and he
looked at me out of the corners of his eyes.
" ' I have — I have formed a decided theory.
But, upon my word, I don't know what right
you have to ask me.'
" ' I trust, before we part, to prove to your
entire satisfaction that I have every right.
What's the nature of your theory ? '
" ' What's the nature of your right ? '
" I laughed. 1 saw that he meant to under-
196
TOM OSSINGTON'S LAIFTER
stand more clearly where we stood before he
went any further.
" ' I believe I am in a position to produce an
owner for the property — when found.'
" ' When found } '
" ' Precisely — when found. As yet it still
remains to be found. I must ask you not,
at this moment, to press me for further details,
and of course you, on your part, are entitled to
keep your theory to yourself.'
" ' I am entitled to keep my theory to myself,
as you say. But I know your father was an
honest man, and as it happens, I know some-
thing about you, and I believe you also are an
honest man. So as I am anxious, for many
reasons, that this Ossington mystery should be
unravelled, you shall have my theory for what
it's worth.'
" He tilted his chair on to its hind-legs,
watching me keenly all the time.
" ' Thomas Ossington was peculiar — not, in
any sense of the word, insane, but out of the
197
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
common run. In particular he was secretive,
especially latterly, as perhaps was only natural.
My theory is that, distrusting banks and all
such human institutions, he secreted his cash,
his title deeds, and everything he valued, in
some hiding-place of his own contriving, and
that there it remains concealed unto this hour.'
The two girls rose simultaneously.
" Madge," cried Ella, " did you hear that ?
That's exactly what you said."
In Madge's tones there was the ring of an
assured conviction.
" I was sure of it — and I am sure of it ; as
sure as any one possibly can be."
" May I ask," inquired Jack, with mock
severity, " who is it who is interrupting now ?
Will you let the gentleman go on ? "
Graham went on.
" ' But where,' I said, ' do you think he is
likely to have found such a hiding-place ? '
*' Old NichoUs looked at me, if possible, more
shrewdly than ever.
198
TOM OSSINGTON'S LATVTER
" ' At Clover Cottage. I knew the man.
The saHent events of his Hfe happened there.
In his whimsical way he regarded it as part and
parcel of himself. I have heard him say so half
a dozen times. His heart was in the place.
Whatever he did conceal, was concealed within
its four walls. Before the furniture was sold, I
had it overhauled by an expert — some of the
things were pulled to pieces. His verdict was
that nothing was hidden there. Had I had my
way I would have dismantled the whole house —
only Hawkins was against me. He said very
properly, that if the heir-at-law proved can-
tankerous, I might be made to smart in damages
to the tune of a pretty penny. So I abstained.
All the same, if the house was in the market
to-morrow, I'd be a purchaser at a good round
sum — if all rights of treasure trove went with
it. You may tell the present tenants ' — here he
looked at me in a fashion which took me a little
aback — ' if you have the honour of their ac-
quaintance, that we keep a sharp eye on the
199
TOM OSS/NGTON'S GHOST
property ; that it is not to be tampered with to
the extent of one jot or tittle ; and that not so
much as one inch of paper is to be taken off the
wall except with our express permission,' "
Ella turned to Madge.
" What do you say to that ? " she exclaimed.
" That knocks on the head all your notions of
pulling the house to pieces."
Madge was defiant.
" Does it ? It does nothing of the kind.
Not after what I found in this very room last
night. In the face of that, I care nothing for
Mr. Nicholls, or for his threats either. What
do you think yourself, Mr. Graham .? "
" If you will allow me, I will give you my
own opinion when I have told you of all that
passed between Mr. Nicholls and myself.
Indeed, I am now coming to that very point."
" There you are, you see. You will not let
the man finish, you really won't. I never saw
anything like you women for interrupting —
never in all my life."
300
TOM OSS/NGTON'S LAJFTER
This of course was Jack — who was, as usual,
ignored.
Graham brought his story to an end.
" ' There is one more question', I said, ' which
I should like to ask you, Mr. Nicholls. Do you
know any one of the name of Edward John
Hurley .? '
" * I ought to, seeing that some one of the
name of Edward John Hurley is in our office at
this moment, and has been in our office for
something over a quarter of a century.'
" ' Can I see him ?•'
" Mr. Nicholls touched a bell, and presently
Mr. Hurley entered. I felt that his presence on
the spot was a stroke of luck for which I had
certainly been unprepared. He was a tall, thin,
dignified looking man, with grey hair. He
wore spectacles. Taking them off, he wiped
them with his handkerchief before he replaced
them on his nose to look at me.
" ' Do you remember, Mr. Hurley,' I began,
' the 22nd of October, 1892 ^ '
201
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
'"The 22nd of October, 1892?' He
repeated my words, then replied to my
question with another, ' May I inquire why
you ask ? '
" ' I will put my question in another form.
Do you remember witnessing Mr. Thomas
Ossington's attachment of his signature to a
certain document on the 22nd of October,
1892 r
" I had noticed that Mr. Nicholls and he
had exchanged glances when I first put my
query. Now he looked at his principal evi-
dently in search of guidance.
" ' Shall I answer this gentleman's question,
sir ? '
" ' Certainly. Give him all the information
you can.'
" This Mr. Hurley proceeded to do, with
the utmost clearness.
"'I do remember the 22nd of October,
1892, and the whole of the circumstances.
chanced to meet Mr. Ossington in Holborn
rOM OSSINGTON'S LAWYER
as I was leaving the office. He asked me if
I would dine with him in his house at
Wandsworth. I went with him to dinner
there and then. After dinner he asked me
if I would witness his signature. I expressed
my willingness. I witnessed it.'
« ' Were you acquainted with the nature of
the document he was signing ,'' '
" ' I was not. I have often wondered what
it was, especially in the light of after events.
The document, which was on a sheet of blue
foolscap, had evidently been prepared before
my arrival : Mr. Ossington, covering the
writing with a piece of blotting-paper, signed
it, in the middle of the page, directly under-
neath, while I affixed my signature, as witness,
on the left-hand side.'
" ' Was there another witness .? '
" ' There was, the servant girl.'
" ' What was her name } '
*' ' I never heard it. I only know that he
called her Louisa. I think I should recognise
203
TOM OSS/NGTON'S GHOST
her if I saw her again. She was a red-faced,
light-haired, strapping wench, about eighteen
years of age.'
" ' Should you recognise Ossington's signa-
ture — and your own — and the document to
which they were attached ? '
" ' Most decidedly ; under any circumstances,
at any time.'
" I thanked him for his frankness, and rose
to go. Nicholls stopped me.
" ' One moment,' he said. ' Hurley informed
us, at the time, or what he has just now told
you, and, like him, we have frequently wondered
what was the nature of the document he wit-
nessed. As you are evidently aware that such
a paper existed once upon a time, you are
probably acquainted with its present where-
abouts ? '
" ' I am. It will be produced in due course.
When, I promise you, you will see as curious
a document as is to be found upon the
records.'
204
TOM OSSINGTON'S LJIVTER
" Both Nicholls and Hurley endeavoured to
induce me to be more definite. But I was not
to be persuaded. Thanking them for the
information they had given me, I came
away."
205
CHAPTER XIII
AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
" AATT'ELL," inquired Martyn, when Graham
^ had finished, " what is the situation
now ? "
" First of all," struck in Madge, " how about
the will ? "
" As regards the will, I do not hesitate to say
that it is as sound and valid a declaration of
the testator's wishes as has been admitted to
probate — Mr. Hurley's testimony removes all
doubt upon that point. A man has a right
to do what he will with his own — and that is
all Mr. Ossington has done."
" How does it effect our right of search .? "
" That is another question. The will gives
neither you nor any one else a title for the
206
JN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
destruction of property. It simply conveys to
the finder the possession of certain things which
are not specifically mentioned. But it authorises
no one to look for those things, still less to do
damage while looking."
" Then is our search barred } Aren't we to
look at all ^ "
" I don't say that. My advice is to put the
legal aspect aside, and to regard the common-
sense one only. The will says that certain
things, when found, are to become the property
of the finder, and this house with them. You
have reason to believe that those things are
concealed within this house. Then it is for
you to consider whether it is worth your while
to run the risk of becoming responsible for
any damage you may do in case of your
failure to find those things. My opinion is,
that it is worth your while to run that risk —
that it is worth any one's while to run that
risk."
Madge stood up, with resolute lips, and
207
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
sparkling eyes. She struck her hand upon
the table.
" I'm sure it is ! 1 know it is ! "
Bruce Graham also rose.
"I am willing to share the risk if it is
shareable — or to assume the whole of it, for
the matter of that. I incline strongly to your
belief, Miss Brodie, that there is something
hidden well worth the finding, and that its
hiding-place is within the walls of Clover
Cottage."
Jack Martyn hammered his fist upon the
table.
" Hear, hear ! — bravo ! — spoken like a man !
'Pon my word, I'm beginning to think that
there is something in it after all. A conviction
is creeping over me, slowly but surely, that
in less time than no time I shall be filling my
pockets with the contents of Aladdin's Cave —
and as there is only a bent sixpence and two
bad pennies in them at present, there's plenty
of room for more."
208
AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
" The point is," said Ella, " where are you
going to begin to look ? "
" I am going to do what Mr. Nicholls wanted
to do," declared Madge — " tear the house to
pieces."
" But, my dear, even if you set about the
business in that drastic fashion, you'll require
method. How are you going to begin to take
the house to pieces — by taking the slates off
the roof, and the chimney-pots down ^ "
" And by taking the windows out of their
frames, and the doors off their hinges, and
displaying the grates in the front garden !
George ! you'll be improving the property
with a vengeance if you do."
" I propose to do nothing so absurd. I
simply wish you to understand that before
I give up the search the house will literally
have been torn to pieces — though I assure you,
Ella, that I do not intend to begin by taking
off either the slates or the chimney-pots."
" Have you been able to make anything
209 p
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
more of the writing which was left behind by
your burglarious visitor ? "
The inquiry came from Graham. Madge
shook her head.
" Let me try my hand at it," cried Jack.
" I have brains — I place them at your service.
It is true I never have been able to solve a
puzzle from my very earliest hours, but that
is no reason why I should not begin by solving
this."
The scrap of paper was given him. He
spread it out on the table in front of him.
Leaning his head upon his hands, he stared
at it, the expression on his face scarcely pro-
mising a prompt elucidation.
"The first part is simple, extremely simple.
Especially after Mr. Graham's last night's lucid
exposition. Otherwise I should have described
it as recondite. But the second part's a
howler ; yes, a howler ! ' Right — cat — dog —
cat — dog — cat — dog — cat — dog — left eye —
push ! ' The conjunction is surprising. I can
JN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
only remark that if that assorted collection of
animals is bottled up somewhere in this house
all together, that alone would be a find worth
coming upon. There will be some lively-
moments when you let the collection out."
*' Did you mention anything to Mr. Nicholls
about the paper.'* " asked Madge of Graham.
" Not a syllable. I gathered from what he
said that the house was done up before it was
let — papered, painted, and so on, and that
therefore any former landmarks to which it
might have been alluding have probably dis-
appeared."
" That's what I think, and that's what I
mean by saying we shall have to pull the house
to pieces."
" Even if that is the case, as Miss Duncan
puts it, where are you going to begin .? You
must remember that you will have to continue
living in the house while it is being dismantled,
and that you must spare yourselves as much
discomfort as possible."
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" It seems that you have to begin by pushing
the left eye," said Jack, who still was studying
the paper. "Though whether it is the left
eye of the entire assorted collection is not quite
clear. If that is the case, and that remarkable
optic has to be pushed with any degree of
vigour, I can only say that I shall take up a
position in the centre of the road till the pro-
ceedings are concluded."
" Why not commence," asked Madge, " with
a thorough examination of the room which
we're now in .f* "
" You yourself," said Ella, " admitted last
night that it was hardly likely that the treasure
would be hidden in the same room which con-
tained the will."
Madge pursed her lips and frowned.
" I've been thinking about that since, and
I don't at all see why we should take it
for granted. One thing's certain, the room
is honeycombed with possible hiding-places.
There are hollows behind the wainscot, the
212
JN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
walls themselves sound hollow. That un-
happy man can hardly have found a part of
the house better adapted to his purpose."
'*See there — what's that.?" Ella was pohithig
to a kind of plaster cornice which ran round
the room. "What are those things which
are cut or moulded on that strip of beading,
if it is beading, under the ceiling ^ "
"They look to me like some sort of or-
namental bosses," said Graham.
" They certainly are neither cats or dogs,"
decided Madge.
" I'm not so sure of that ; you know what
extraordinary things they tell you are intended
to represent things which are not in the least
bit like them. Where's that paper.? Jack,
give me that paper."
Jack gave it her. She glanced at it.
" ' Right ' — I'll take up a position like you
did last night, Mr. Graham, to the right of
the door ; ' cat — dog — cat — dog — cat — dog —
cat — dog — ' now "
213
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
"Well?" queried Madge, for Ella had
stopped. " Now what ? "
" I think," continued Ella, with evident
dubitation, " that I'll again do what you did
last night, Mr. Graham, and cross right over ;
though it says nothing about it here, but
perhaps that was omitted on purpose." She
marched straight across the room. " Now
we'll take the first thing upon the beading,
or whatever it is, to be a cat, and we'll
count them alternately — cat — dog — the fifth
dog."
" Very good," said Graham, standing close
up to the wall and pointing with his out-
stretched hand, " Cat — dog — cat — dog — cat —
dog — cat — dog — here you are."
" Now, ' left eye — push.' "
'* Or shove," suggested Jack.
" But there is no eye — whether left or other-
wise."
" That's a detail," murmured Jack.
" Let me see." Ella clambered on to a
214
AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
chair. From that position of vantage she
examined the protuberances in question.
*' There really does seem nothing which
could represent an eye ; the things look more
like knuckle-bones than anything else."
" What's the odds .? Let's all get hammers
and whack the whole jolly lot of them in the
eye, or where, if right is right, it ought to be.
And then, if nothing happens — and we'll hope
to goodness nothing will — we'll whack 'em
aa:ain."
"I'm afraid, Ella," put in Madge, "that
your cats and dogs are merely suppositions.
I vote, by way of doing something practical,
that we start stripping the wainscot. You'll
find hiding-places enough ' behind that, and it's
quite on the cards, something in them."
" Certainly," assented Jack, " I am on.
Bring out your hatchets, pickaxes, crowbars,
and other v/eapons of war, and we'll turn up
our shirt-sleeves, and shiver our timbers, and
not leave one splinter of wood adhering to
215
70M OSSINGTON'S GHOST
another. Buck up, Graham ! Take off your
coat, my boy ! You're going to begin to enjoy
yourself at last, I give you my word."
Ella, possibly slightly exacerbated by the
failure of her little suggestion, endeavoured
to snub the exuberant Mr. Martyn.
" I don't know if you think you're funny,
Jack, because you're only silly. If you can't
be serious, perhaps you'd better go ; then, if
we do find something, you'll have no share."
" Upon my Sam ! " cried Jack, " if that ain't
bitter hard. If there's any sharing going on,
I don't care what it is, if there's any man who
wants his bit of it more than I do, I should like
you to point him out. Ella, my dearest Ella,
I do assure you, by the token of those peerless
charms "
"Jack, don't be silly."
" I think," insinuated Madge, " that you and
I, Mr. Graham, had better go and fetch a chisel
and a hammer."
They went. When they returned, bearing
216
AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
those useful implements, however the dis-
cussion might have gone, Mr. Martyn showed
no signs of being crushed.
"Give me that chisel," he exclaimed. "You
never saw a man handle a tool like me — and
to the last day of your life you'll never see
another. I'm capable of committing suicide
while hammering in a tack."
" Thank you, Jack," said Madge ; " but I
think carpentering may be within the range
of Mr. Graham's capacity rather than yours."
At least Mr. Graham showed himself capable
of stripping the wainscot, though with the tools
at his command — those being limited to the
hammer and the chisel, with occasional help
from the poker — it was not so easy a business
as it might have been. It took some time.
And, as none of the hoped-for results ensued —
nothing being revealed except the wall behind
— it became a trifle tedious. Eleven o'clock
struck, and still a considerable portion of the
wainscot was as before.
217
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Might I ask," inquired Jack, " if this is
going to be an all night job ; because I have
to be at the office in the morning, and I
should like to have some sleep before I start."
Graham surveyed the work of devastation.
" I will finish this side, and then I think,
Miss Brodie, we might leave the rest to another
time — till to-morrow, say."
" I really don't see what's the use of doing
it at all," said Ella. " I don't believe there's
anything hidden in this room ; and look at the
mess, it will take hours to clear it up. And
who wants to live in a place with bare brick
walls .? It gives me the horrors to look at
them."
Madge looked at her, more in sorrow than
in anger.
*' I think, Mr. Graham, that perhaps you had
better stop."
He detected the mournful intonation.
" At any rate, I'll finish this side."
He continued to add to the uncomfortable
218
AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
appearance of the room ; for there certainly
was somethhig in what Ella said.
He had worked for another quarter of an
hour, or twenty minutes, and had torn off three
or four more strips of wood — for they had
been firmly secured in their places, and took
some tearing — and the others were gathered
round them, assisting and looking on, momen-
tarily expecting that something would come to
light better worth having than dust and cob-
webs, of which articles there were very much
more than sufficient, when Ella gave a sudden
exclamation.
" Madge ! Jack ! " she cried. " Who —
who's this man ? "
" What man ? " asked Madge.
Turning, she saw.
219
CHAPTER XIV
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
T^/HAT she saw, and what they saw, spoke
eloquently of the engrossed attention
with which they had watched the work of
destruction being carried on. So absorbed had
they been in Bruce Graham's proceedings that,
actually without their knowledge, a burglarious
entry had been all but effected into the very
room in which they were.
There was the proof before them.
The window had been raised, the blind and
curtains pushed away, and a man's head and
shoulders thrust inside.
When Ella's exclamation called their atten-
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
tion to the intruder's presence, they stared at
him, as well they might, for a moment or two
with stupefied amazement ; the impudence of
the act seemed almost to surpass the bounds
of credibility. He, on his part, met their
gaze with a degree of fortitude, not to say
assurance, which was more than a little sur-
prising.
To the fellow's character his looks bore
evidence. The buttoning of his coat up to
his chin failed to conceal the fact that his neck
was bare, while the crushing of a dilapidated
billycock down over his eyes served to throw
into clearer relief his unshaven cheeks and
hungry-looking eyes.
For the space of perhaps thirty seconds they
looked at him, and he at them, in silence.
Then Jack moved hastily forward.
" You're a cool hand ! " he cried.
But Madge caught him by the arm.
" Don't ! " she said. " This is the man who
stared through the window."
221
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Jack turned to her, bewildered.
" The man who stared through the window ?
What on earth do you mean ? "
" Don't ! " she repeated. " I think that Mr,
Graham knows this man."
The man himself endorsed her supposition.
" Yes, I'm rather inclined to think that Mr.
Graham does."
His voice was not a disagreeable one ; not at
all the sort of voice which one would have
expected from a person of his appearance. He
spoke, too, like an educated man, with, how-
ever, a strenuous something in his tone which
suggested, in some occult fashion, the bitterness
of a wild despair.
Seeing that he remained unanswered, he spoke
again.
" What's more, if there is a cool hand it's
Mr. Graham, it isn't me. I am a poor, starv-
ing, police-ridden devil, being hounded to hell,
full pelt, by a hundred other devils — but, Bruce
Graham, what are you ? "
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
They turned to the man who was thus
addressed.
At the moment of interruption he had been
levering a strip of wainscot from its place with
the aid of the inserted chisel. He still kept
one hand upon the handle, holding the hammer
with the other, while he drew his body back
against the wall as close as it would go, and,
with pallid cheeks and startled eyes, he stared
at the intruder as if he had been some straggler
from the spiritual world. From between his
lips, which seemed to tremble, there came a
single word —
" Ballingall ! "
" Yes, Ballingall ! That's my name. And
what's yours — cur, hound, thief.? By God !
there have been people I've used badly enough in
my time, but none worse than you've used me."
" You are mistaken."
" Am I .? It looks like it. What are you
doing here ,? "
" You know what I'm doing."
223
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" By God ! I do — you're right there. And
it's because you know I know, that, although
you're twice my size, and have got all the
respectability and law of England at your back,
you stand there shivering and shaking, afraid
for your life at the sight of me."
"I am not afraid of you. I repeat that you
are mistaken."
" And I say you lie — you are afraid of me,
penniless, shoeless, hungry beggar though I am.
Your face betrays you ; look at him ! Isn't
there cowardice writ large ? "
The man stretched out his arm, pointing to
Graham with a dramatic gesture, which certainly
did not tend to increase that gentleman's
appearance of ease.
" Do you think I didn't see you the other
day, knowing that the time was due for me to
come out of gaol, trying to screw your courage
to the striking point to play the traitor ; how
at the sight of me the blood turned to water in
your veins ? Deny it — lie if you can."
224
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
" I do not wish to deny it, nor do I propose
to lie. I repeat, for the third time, that in the
conclusions you draw you are mistaken. Miss
Brodie, this is the person of whom I was telling
you — Charles Ballingall."
" So you have told them of me, have you .?
And a pretty yarn you've spun, I bet my boots.
Yes, madam, I am Charles Ballingall, lately out
of Wandsworth Prison, sent there for commit-
ting burglary at this very place. My God,
yes ! this house of haunting memories of a
thousand ghosts ! I only came out the day
before yesterday, and that same night I com-
mitted burglary again — here ! And now I'm
at it for the third time, driven to it — by a
ghost ! And, my God ! he's behind me now."
A sudden curious change took place in the
expression of the fellow's countenance. Par-
tially withdrawing his head, he turned and
looked behind him — as if constrained to the
action against his will. His voice shrank to a
hoarse whisper.
225 Q
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" Is that you, Tom Ossington ? "
None replied.
Madge moved forward, quite calm, and, in
her own peculiar fashion, stately, though she
was a little white about the lips, and there was
an odd something in her eyes.
" I think you had better come inside —
and, if convenient, please moderate your
language."
At the sound of her voice the man turned
again, and stared.
" I beg your pardon. Were you speaking
to me ? "
" I was, and am. Mr. Graham has spoken
to me of you, and I am quite certain that in
doing so he has told us nothing but the exact
and literal truth. In the light of what he has
said, I know that I am giving expression to our
common feeling in saying that we shall feel
obliged to you if you will come in."
The man hesitated, fumbling with his hands,
as if nonplussed.
226
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
" It's a good many years since I was spoken
to like that."
" Possibly it's a good many years since you
deserved to be spoken to like that. As a rule,
that sort of speech is addressed to us to which
we are entitled."
" That's true. By God, it is ! "
" I believe I asked you to moderate your
language."
" I beg your pardon ; but it's a habit — of
some standing."
" Then if that is the case, probably the time
is come that it should die. Please let it die
— if for this occasion only. Must I repeat
my invitation, and press you to enter, in
face of the eagerness to effect an entrance
which it seems that you have already
shown ? "
Mr. Ballingall continued to exhibit signs of
indecision.
" This isn't a trap, or anything of that
kind .? "
227
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
"I am afraid I hardly understand you.
What do you mean by a trap ? "
" Well " — his lips were distorted by what
was possibly meant for a grin — " it doesn't
want much understanding, when you come to
think of it."
" We ask you to come in. If you accept
our invitation you will of course be at liberty
to go again whenever you please. We cer-
tainly shall make no effort to detain you, for
any cause whatever."
♦* Well, if that's the case, it's a queer start,
by " He seemed about to utter his accus-
tomed imprecation ; then, catching her eyes,
refrained, adding, in a different tone, " I think
I will."
He did, passing first one leg over the sill,
and then the other. When the whole of his
body was in the room he removed his hat, the
action effecting a distinct improvement in his
appearance. The departure of the disreputable
billycock disclosed the fact that his head was
228
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
not by any means ill-shaped. One perceived
that this had once been an intelligent man,
whose intelligence was very far from being
altogether a thing of the past. More, it
suggested the probability of his having been
good-looking. Nor did it need a keen ob-
server to suspect that if he was shaven and
shorn, combed and groomed, and his rags were
exchanged for decent raiment, that there was
still enough of manliness about him to render
him sufficiently presentable. He was not yet of
the hopelessly submerged ; although just then
he could scarcely have appeared to greater dis-
advantage. His clothes were the scourings of
the ragman's bag — ill-fitting, torn, muddy.
His boots were odd ones, whose gaping aper-
tures revealed the sockless feet v/ithin. In his
whole bearing there was that indefinable, furtive
something which is the hall-mark of the wretch
who hopes for nothing but an opportunity to
snatch the wherewithal to stay the cravings of
his belly, and who sees an enemy even in the
229
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
creature who flings to him a careless dole.
This atmosphere which was about him, of the
outcast and the pariah, was heightened by the
obvious fact that, at that very moment, he was
hungry, hideously hungry. His eyes, now that
they were more clearly seen, were wolfish. In
their haste to begin their treasure-hunting they
had not even waited to take away the tea-
things. The man's glances were fastened on
the fragments of food which were on the table,
as if it was only by an effort of will that he was
able to keep himself from pouncing on them
like some famished animal.
Madge perceived the looks of longing.
" We are just going to have supper. You
must join us. Then we can talk while we are
eating. Ella, help me to get it ready. Sit
down, Mr. Ballingall, I daresay you are tired —
and perhaps you had better close the window.
Ella and I shall not be long."
They made a curious trio, the three men,
while the two girls made ready. Ballingall
230
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
closed the window, with an air half sheepish,
half defiant. Then placed himself upon a seat,
in bolt upright fashion, as if doubtful of the
chair's solidity. Jack took up a position in the
centre of the hearthrug, so evidently at a loss
for something appropriate to say as to make his
incapacity almost pathetic — apparently the un-
usual character of the situation had tied his
tongue into a double knot. Graham's attitude
was more complex. The portion of the wainscot
which he had undertaken to displace not having
been entirely removed, resuming his unfinished
task, he continued to wrench the boards from
their fastenings as if intentionally oblivious of
the new arrival's presence.
Nor was the meal which followed of a familiar
type. The resources of the larder were not
manifold, but all that it contained was placed
upon the table. The piece de resistance con-
sisted of six boiled eggs.
" If you boil all those eggs," Ella declared,
when Madge laid on them a predatory hand,
231
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
^' there'll be nothing left in the house for
breakfast."
" The man is famished," retorted Madge
with some inconsequence. " What does break-
fast matter to us if the man is starving." So
the six were boiled. And he ate them all.
Indeed he ate all there was to eat — devoured
would have been the more appropriate word.
For he attacked his food with a voracity which
it was not nice to witness, bolting it with a
complete disregard to rules which suggest the
advisability of preliminary mastication.
It was not until his wolf-like appetite was, at
least, somewhat appeased by the consumption of
nearly all the food that was on the table, that
Madge approached the subject which was
uppermost in all their thoughts.
" As I was saying, Mr. Ballingall, Mr.
Graham has told us of all that passed between
you."
At the moment he had a piece of bread in
one hand and some cheese in the other — all
232
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
the cheese that was left. The satisfaction of
his appetite seemed to have increased his
ferocity. Cramming both morsels into his
mouth at once, he turned on her with a sort
of half-choked snarl.
" Then what right had he to do that ? "
" It seems to me that he had a good deal
of right."
" How ^ Who's he ? A lawyer out of a
job, who comes and offers me his services. I'm
his client. As his client I give him my Con-
fidence. Looking at it from the professional
point of view only, what right has he to pass
my confidence on to any one .^ — any one ! He's
been guilty of a dirty and disgraceful action,
and he knows it. You knov/ it, you do." He
snarled across the board at Graham. " If I were
to report him to the Law Society they'd take
him off the rolls."
" I question it."
Madge's tone was dry.
" You may question it — but I know what I'm
233
7VM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
talking about. What use does he make of the
confidence which he worms out of me ? "
" I wormed nothing out of you." The
interruption was Graham's, " Whatever you
said to me was said spontaneously, without the
slightest prompting on my part."
" What difference does that make ? — Then
what use does he make of what I said spon-
taneously ? He knows that I am a poor driven
devil, charged with a crime which I never
committed. I explain to him how it happened
that that crime comes to be laid against me, how
I've been told that there's money waiting for me
in a certain place, which is mine for the fetching,
and how, when I went to fetch it, I was snapped
for burglary. I'm found guilty of what I never
did, and I get twelve months. In this country
law and justice are two different things. What
does my lawyer — my own lawyer, who pressed
on me his services, mind ! — do, while I'm in
prison for what I never did .? He takes advan-
tage of my confidence, and without a word to
234
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
me, or a hint of any sort, he goes and looks for
my money — my money, mind ! — on his own
account — and for all I know he's got it in his
pocket now."
" That he certainly has not."
This was Madge.
"Then it isn't his fault if he hasn't. Can
you think of anything dirtier .? not to speak of
more unprofessional ^ Why one thief wouldn't
behave to another thief like that — not if he was
a touch above the carrion. Here have I, an
innocent man, been rotting in gaol, think, think,
thinking of what I'd do with the money when
I did come out, and here was the man who
ought to have been above suspicion, and whom
I thought was above suspicion, plotting and
planning all the time how he could rob me of
what he very well knew was the only thing
which could save me from the outer darkness of
hell and of despair."
Graham motioned Madge to silence.
" One moment, Miss Brodie. You must not
235
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
suppose, Mr. Ballingall, that because I suffer you
to make your sweeping charges against me
without interruption, that I admit their truth,
or the justice of the epithets which you permit
yourself to apply to me. On the contrary, I
assert that your statements are for the most part
wholly unjustifiable, and that where they appear
to have some measure of justification, they are
easily capable of complete explanation. What-
ever you may continue to say I shall decline to
argue with you here. If you will come to my
rooms I will give you every explanation you
can possibly desire,"
" Yes, I daresay, — and take the earliest
opportunity of handing me over to the first
convenient copper. Unless I'm mistaken, that's
the kind of man you are,"
Madge caught the speaker by the sleeve
of his ragged coat, with a glance at Graham,
whose countenance had grown ominously
black.
" If you will take my advice, Mr, Ballingall,
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
since it is plain that you know nothing of the
mind of man Mr. Graham really is, instead
of continuing to talk in that extremely foolish
fashion you will listen to what I have to say.
The night before last we were the victims of an
attempted burglary "
" I did it — you know 1 did it. I give
myself away — if there's any giving about it.
You can whistle for a constable, and give me
into charge right off; I'm willing. Perhaps
it'll turn out to be the same bobby I handled
before, and then he'll be happier than
ever."
" I am sorry to learn that you were the
burglar — very sorry. My friend, Miss Duncan,
and I were alone in the house, a fact of which
you were probably aware." That Mr. Ballin-
gall might still be possessed of some remnants
of saving grace was suggested by the fact that,
at this point, he winced. " Other considera-
tions aside, it was hardly a heroic action to
break, at dead of night, into a lonely cottage,
237
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
whose only inmates were a couple of unpro-
tected girls."
" There was a revolver fired."
" As you say, there was a revolver fired —
by me, at the ceiling. Does that tend to
strengthen the evidence which goes to show
that the deed, on your part, was a courageous
one ? ' '
" I never said that it was."
" You are perfectly conscious that we shall
not whistle for a policeman, and that we shall
not give you into charge. Is it necessary for
you to talk as if you thought we should ? "
" Am I to be robbed "
" I fancy that the robbing has not been all
upon one side." Mr. Ballingall did not look
happier. " The burglar left behind him a scrap
of paper "
" Oh, I did, did I .? I wondered where it
was."
" At present it is in the possession of the
police."
238
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
" The devil ! "
" You need not be alarmed." Mr. Ballingall
had suddenly risen, as if disturbed by some
reflection. " That was before we knew by
whom we had been favoured. Now that we
do know, the paper will not be used in
evidence against you — nor the police either.
Before handing over that scrap of paper we
took a copy of the writing which was on
it. That writing was a key to two secret
hiding-places which are contained within this
house."
" How do you know that ? "
" By exercising a little of my elementary
common sense. Observe, Mr. Ballingall."
Rising from her seat, she crossed to the door.
" On that paper which you were so good as
to leave behind you it was written, ' Right ' —
I stand on the right of the door. ' Straight
across ' — I walk straight across the room.
' Three ' — I measure three feet horizontally.
' Four ' — and four feet perpendicularly. ' Up '
239
7'OAI OSSINGTON'S GHOST
— I push the panel up ; it opens, and I find
that there is something within. That, Mr.
Ballingall, is how I know the paper was a
guide to two secret hiding-places — by discover-
ing the first. What is the matter with the
man ^ Has he gone mad ^ "
The question, which was asked with a
sudden and striking change of tone, was
induced by the singularity of Mr. Ballingall's
demeanour. He had started when Madge
took up her position at the door, eyeing her
following evolutions speechlessly, breathlessly,
as if spellbound. Her slightest movement
seemed to possess for him some curious fas-
cination. As she proceeded, his agitation
increased ; every nerve seemed strained so
that he might not lose the smallest detail of
all that happened, until when, with dramatic
gestures, she imitated the action of striking
the panel, raising it, and taking out something
which was contained within, he broke into
cry after cry.
240
THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION
" My God !— my God !— my God ! " he
repeated, over and over again.
Covering his face with his hands, as if he
strove to guard his eyes against some terrible
vision, he crouched in a sort of heap on the
floor.
>4i
CHAPTER XV
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
Y\r7"HEN he looked up, it was timidly,
^^ doubtfully, as if fearful of what he
might see. He glanced about him anxiously
from side to side, as if in search of some-
thing or some one.
" Tom ! — Tom ! " he said, speaking it was
difficult to say to whom.
He paused, as if for an answer. When none
came, he drew himself upright gradually, inch
by inch. They noticed how his lips were
twitching, and how the whole of his body
trembled. He passed his hand over his eyes,
as a man might who is waking from a dream.
242
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
Then he stretched it out in front of him,
palm upwards, with a something of supplica-
tion in the action which lent pathos to the
words he uttered — words which in themselves
were more than sufficiently bizarre.
" Do any of you believe in ghosts ? — in dis-
embodied spirits assuming a corporeal shape ?
— in the dead returning from their graves ?
Or is a man who thinks he sees a ghost, who
knows he sees a ghost, who knows that a
ghost is a continual attendant of his waking
and of his sleeping hours alike — must such a
man be in labour with some horrible delusion
of his senses ? Is his brain of necessity un-
hinged ? Must he of a certainty be mad ? "
Not only was such an interrogation in itself
remarkable, but more especially was it so as
coming from such a figure as Ballingall pre-
sented. His rags and dirt were in strange
contrast with his language. His words, chosen
as it seemed with a nice precision, came from
his lips with all the signs of practiced ease,
243
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
His manner, even his voice, assumed a touch
of refinement which before it lacked. In him
was displayed the spectacle of a man of talent
and of parts encased in all the outward sem-
blance of a creature of the kennel.
Madge, to whom the inquiry seemed to be
more particularly addressed, replied to it with
another.
" Why do you ask us such a question ? "
About the man's earnestness, as he responded,
there could be no doubt. The muscles of his
face twitched as with St. Vitus' Dance ; beads
of sweat stood upon his brow ; the intensity of
his desire to give adequate expression to his
thoughts seemed to hamper his powers of
utterance.
" Because I want some one to help me —
some one, God or man. Because, during the
last year and more 1 have endured a continual
agony to which I doubt if the pains of hell
can be compared. Because things with me
have come to such a pitch that it is only at
244
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
times I know if I am dead or living, asleep
or waking, mad or sane, myself or another,"
He pointed to Graham.
*' He has told you how it was with me afore-
time ; how I was haunted — driven by a ghost
to gaol. When I was in gaol it was worse a
thousandfold — I was haunted, always, day and
night. The ghost of my old friend — the best
friend man ever had — whom in so many ways
I had so blackly and often wronged, was with
me, continually, in my cell. Oh for some sign
by which I could know that my sins have been
forgiven me ! — by which I could learn that by
suffering I could atone for the evil I have done !
Some sign, O Lord, some sign ! "
He threw his hands above his head in a
paroxysm of passion. As has been said of
more than one great tragic actor, in his voice
there were tears. As, indeed, there were in the
eyes of at least one of those who heard. His
manner, when he proceeded, was a little calmer
— which very fact seemed to italicise the strange-
ness of his tale.
245
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" The first day I spent in prison I was half
beside myself with rage. I had done things
for which I had merited punishment, even of
man, and now that punishment had come, it
was for something I had not done. The irony,
as well as the injustice of it, made me nearly
wild. I had my first taste of the crank — which
is as miserable, as futile, and as irritating a mode
of torture as was ever spewed out of a flesh and
blood crank's unhealthy stomach ; and I was
having, what they called there, dinner, when
the cell door opened, and — Tom Ossington
came in. It was just after noon, in the broad
day. He came right in front of me, and, lean-
ing on his stick, he stood and watched me. I
had not been thinking of him, and, a moment
before, had been hot with fury, ready to dare or
do anything ; but, at the sight of" him, the
strength went out of me. My bones might
have been made of jelly, they seemed so little
able to support my body. There was nothing
about him which was in the least suggestive of
246
THE COMPJNION OF HIS SOLITUDE
anything unusual. He was dressed in a short
coat and felt hat, which were just like the coat
and hats which he always had worn ; and he had
in his hand the identical stick which I had seen
him carry perhaps a thousand times. If it was
a ghost, then there are ghosts of clothes as well
as of men. If it was an optical delusion, then
there are more things in optics than are dreamt
of in our philosophy. If it was an hallucination
born of a disordered mind, then it is possible to
become lunatic without being conscious of any
preliminary sappings of the brain ; and it is
indeed but an invisible border line which
divides the madmen from the sane.
" ' Well, Charlie,' he said, in the quiet tones
which I had known so well, ' so it's come to this.
You made a bit of a mistake in coming when
you did to fetch away that fortune of yours.'
" ' It seems,' I said, ' as if I had.'
" He laughed — that gentle laugh of his which
had always seemed to me to be so full of
enjoyment.
247
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" ' Never mind, Charlie, you come another
time. The fortune won't run away while you're
in here.'
" With that, he turned and limped out of
the cell ; the door seeming to open before him
at a touch of his hand, and shutting behind him
as noiselessly as it had opened. It was only
after he had gone that I realised what it was
that I had seen. In an instant I was in a muck
of sweat. While I was sitting on my stool,
more dead than alive, the door opened again,
this time with clatter and noise enough, and a
warder appeared. He glared at me in a fashion
which meant volumes.
" ' Is that you talking in here } You'd better
take care, my lad, or you'll make a bad begin-
ning.'
" He banged the door behind him — and he
went."
Ballingall paused, to wipe his brow with the
back of his hand ; and he sighed.
"I made a bad beginning, and, from the
248
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
warder's point of view, I went from bad to
worse. I do not know if the man I had injured
has been suffered to torture me before my time,
or if, where he is, his nature has changed, and
he seeks, in the grave, the vengeance he never
sought in life. If so, he has his fill of it — he
surely has had his fill of it ! — already. It was
through him that I was there, and now that I
was there he made my sojourn in the prison
worse than it need have been. Much worse,
God knows.
" That first visitation of his was followed by
others. Twice, thrice, sometimes four times a
day, he would come to me when I was in my
cell, and speak to me, and compel me to answer
him ; and my voice would be heard without.
It became quite a custom for the warder on duty
to stand outside my cell, often in the middle of
the night, and pounce on me as soon as Tom
had gone. The instant Tom went, the warder
would come in. Never once did an officer enter
while he was actually with me, but, almost in-
249
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
variably, his departure was the signal for the
warder to put in his appearance. I don't know
how it was, or why it was, but so it was. I
would be accused of carrying on a conversation
with myself, reported, and punished. As a
matter of fact, I was in continual hot water —
because of Tom. Not a single week passed
from that in which I entered the prison, to that
in which I left it, during which I did not
undergo punishment of some sort or the other,
because of Tom. As a result, all my marks
were bad marks. When I left the gaol, so far
from receiving the miserable pittance which
good-conduct prisoners are supposed to earn, I
was penniless ; I had not even the wherewithal
with which to buy myself a crust of bed.
"A more dreadful form of torture Tom could
hardly have invented. A man need not neces-
sarily suffer although he is in gaol. But I
suffered. Always I was in the bad books of
the officers. They regarded me as an incor-
rigible bad-conduct man — which, from their
250
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
point of view, I was. All sorts of ignominy
was heaped on me. Every form of punish-
ment I could be made to undergo I had to
undergo. I never earned my stripe, nor the
right of having a coir mattress with which to
cover the bare board on which I was supposed
to sleep. I was nearly starved, owing to the
perpetually recurring bread and water. And
the horrors I endured, the devils which beset
me, in that unspeakable dark cell ! To me,
gaol was a long-drawn-out and ever-increasing
agony, from the first moment to the last.
" God knows it was ! "
The speaker paused. He stood, his fists
clenched, staring vacantly in front of him, as
if he saw there, in a mist, the crowding
spectres of the past. There seemed to come
a break in his voice as he continued. He
spoke with greater hesitation.
" Some three months before my sentence was
completed, Tom changed his tactics. While
I was sleeping — such sleep ! — on the bare board
251
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
which served me as a bed, I'd have a vision.
It was Hke a vision — hke a vision, and yet —
it was as if I was awake. It seemed as if Tom
came to me, and put his arm into mine, and
led me out of gaol, and brought me here to
Clover Cottage. He'd stand at the gate and
say ' Charlie, this is Clover Cottage,' and I'd
answer, *I know it is.' Then he'd laugh — in
some way that laugh of his seemed to cut me
like a knife. And he'd lead me down the
pathway and into the house, to this very room.
Though " — Ballingall looked about him doubt-
fully — " it wasn't furnished as it is now. It was
like it used to be. And he'd go and stand by the
door, as you did" — this was to Madge — "and
he'd say, ' Now, Charlie, pay particular attention
to what I am about to do. I'm going to show
you how to get that fortune of yours — which
you came for once before and went away
without. Now observe.'
"Then he'd walk straight across the room,
as you did," again to Madge — " and he'd turn
252
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
to me and say, ' Notice exactly what I'm
doing ! ' Then he'd take a foot rule from
his pocket, and he'd measure three feet from
where he stood along the floor. And he'd
hold up the rule, and say, 'You see — three
feet.' Then he'd measure four feet from the
floor, and hold out the rule again and say,
' You see, four feet.' Then he'd put his hand
against the panel and move it upwards, and
it would slide open — and there was an open
space within. He'd put his hand into the
open space, and take something out ; it looked
to me like a sheet of paper. And he'd say,
' This is what will give you that fortune of
yours — when you find it. Only you'll have to
find it first. Be sure you find it, Charlie.'
" And he'd laugh — and, though it was the
gentle laugh of his which I had known so well
of old, there was something about it which
seemed to mock me, and cut me like a whip
and make me quiver. He'd take my arm
again, and lead me from the house and back
253
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
to the gaol, and I'd wake to find myself lying
on the bare board, alone in the dark cell,
crying like a child.
*' In the morning, perhaps at dinner-time,
he'd come into the cell in the usual way,
and ask me :
" ' Charlie, do you remember last night ? '
' Yes, Tom,' I'd reply, ' I do.' And then he'd
go on :
" * Mind you don't forget. It's most im-
portant, Charlie, that you shouldn't forget.
I'll tell you what you must remember. Take
this and write it down.'
*' And he'd give me something, my Bible,
or my prayer-book, or even the card of rules
which was hung against the wall, and a piece
of pencil — though where he got that from I
never knew, and he'd say, ' Now write what
I dictate.'
" And I did, just as you saw it on the paper
which I left behind ; the first line, ' Tom
Ossington's Ghost ' — he always made me write
254
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
that ; it was the only allusion he ever made
to there being anything unusual about his
presence there ; and the second line, ' right —
straight across — three — four — up.' When I'd
written it he'd say :
" ' Charlie, mind you take the greatest
care of that ; don't let it go out of your
possession for a moment. It's the guide to
that fortune of yours.'
"Then he'd go. And the moment he had
gone the warder would come bursting in, and
catch me with the pencil, and the Bible, or
whatever it was, in my hand, with the writing
on the flyleaf. And he'd begin to gird at
me.
" ' So you're at it again, are you } And
you've got a pencil, have you ^ and been
writing in your Bible ^ You're a pretty sort,
upon my word you are. I tell you what it
is, my lad, you'll get yourself into serious
trouble before you've done.'
" And he'd take the pencil away with him,
255
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
and the Bible, and the writing ; and I'd be
reported again, and punished with the utmost
severity which was within the compass of the
Governor's power."
Ballingall stopped again. A convulsive fit
of trembling seemed to go all over him.
" Towards the end, the vision took another
form. Tom would bring me to the house —
only I think, not to this room, but to another
— and he would do something — he would do
something. I saw quite clearly what it was
he did, and understood it well, but, so soon
as I was out of the house, the recollection of
what he had done became blurred as by a mist.
I could not remember at all. I'd wake in my
cell in an agony to think that all that Tom
had shown me should have slipped my memory.
In the morning he'd come and ask :
" ' Charlie, you remember what we did last
night ^ '
" ' No, Tom, I don't. I've tried to think,
but I can't. It's all forgotten.'
256
THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE
" He'd laugh — his laugh seeming to mock
me more than ever.
" ' Never mind, Charlie, I'll tell you all about
it. You write down what I say.'
" And I wrote it down — the last line which
was on the scrap of paper. Though I never
knew what it meant — never ! never ! I've
searched my brains many times to think ;
and been punished for writing it again and
again.
" At last I was released. At last — my God,
at last ! "
His whole frame quivered. He drew him-
self upright, as if endeavouring to bear himself
as became a man.
" I was treated, when going out, according
to my deserts. I had earned no favour, and
I received none. The Governor reprimanded
me, by way of a God-speed ; 'told me that
my conduct, while in prison, had been very
bad, and warned me that it would go ill
with me if I returned. I went out in the
257 5
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
rags in which I had entered, without a penny
in my pocket — hungry at the moment of
release, I have not tasted bite or sup from
the time that I came out of gaol until to-
night.
" In the afternoon I came round to Clover
Cottage. The first thing I saw was him."
He pointed to Graham. " He was afraid of
me, and I was afraid of him — that is the
truth. Otherwise I should have gone up to
him and asked him for at least a shilling,
because directly I caught sight of him I knew
what he was after, and that I was going to
be tricked and robbed again. While I was
trying to summon up courage enough to beg
of the man whom I knew had played me
false, I saw some one else, and I ran away.
" I meant to get a bed in the casual ward
oi the Wandsworth Workhouse. But Tom
came to me as I was going there, and told me
not to be so silly, but to come and get the
fortune which was waiting for me at Clover
THE COMPJNION OF HIS SOLITUDE
Cottage. So I came. But I never got the
fortune.
" And ever since I've been growing hungrier
and hungrier, until I've grown beside myself
with hunger — because Tom stopped me when
I was going to the workhouse again last night,
and bade me not to be so silly, though I don't
know why 1 should have been silly in seeking
for shelter and for food. And not a couple
of hours ago he came to me while I was trying
to find a hole on the Common in which to
sleep, and packed me off once more to fetch
away my fortune. But I haven't found it yet —
not yet, not yet. Though" — he stretched out
his arms on either side of him, and on his face
there came a strange look of what seemed
exultation — " I know it's near."
In the pause which followed, Ella raised her
hand.
" Listen," she exclaimed ; " who's that ?
There's some one at the garden gate."
There did seem some one at the garden
259
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
gate, some one who opened and shut It with
a bang. They heard footsteps on the tiles
which Jed to the front door. While they
waited, listening for a knock, another sound
was heard.
" Hark," cried Ella. " There's some one
fumbling with a latchkey at the door, trying
to open it. Whoever can it be — at this hour
of the night ^ There must be some mistake."
" I think," said Madge, in her eyes there
was a very odd expression, " it is possible
there is no mistake — this time."
260
CHAPTER XVI
TWO VISITORS
T NS TINC nVELY Ella drew closer to Jack,
nestling at his side, as if for the sake of
the near neighbourhood. Graham advanced
towards Madge, placing himself just at her
back, with a something protective in his air
— as if he designed to place himself in front
of her at an instant's warning. While
Ballingall moved farther towards the window,
with that in his bearing which curiously sug-
gested the bristling hairs of the perturbed
and anxious terrier. And all was still — with
that sort of silence which is pregnant with
meaning.
Without in the stillness, there could be
261
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
plainly heard the fumbling of the latchkey,
as if some one, with unaccustomed hands,
was attempting to insert it in the door.
Presently, the aperture being found, and the
key turned, the door was opened. Some one
entered the house ; and, being in, the door
was shut — with a bang which seemed to ring
threateningly through the little house, causing
the listeners to start. Some one moved, with
uncertain steps, along the passage. A grasp
was laid from without on the handle of the
sitting-roorti door. They saw it turn. The
door opened — while those within, with one
accord, held their breath. And there entered
as strange and pitiful a figure as was ever seen.
It was the "ghost's wife," the woman who
had so troubled Madge, who had done her best
that afternoon to keep her outside the house.
She was the saddest sight in her parti-coloured
rags, the dreadful relics of gaudy fripperies.
When they saw it was her, there was a
simultaneous half-movement, which never be-
262
TfVO VISITORS
came a whole movement, for it was stopped
at its initiatory stage — stopped by something
which was in the woman's face, and by the
doubt if she was alone.
On her face — her poor, dirty, degraded,
wrinkled face — which was so pitifully thin
there was nothing left of it but skin and bone,
there was a look which held them dumb. It
was a look like nothing which any of them had
ever seen before. It was not only that it was
a look of death — for it was plain that the out-
stretched fingers of the angel already touched
her brow ; but it was the look of one who
seemed to see beyond the grave — such a look
as we might fancy on the face of the dead in
that sudden shock of vision which, as some tell
us, comes in the moment after death.
She was gazing straight in front of her, as
if at some one who was there ; and she said,
in the queerest, shakiest voice :
" So, Tom, you've brought me home at last.
I'm glad to be at home again. Oh, Tom ! "
263
TQM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
This last with the strangest catching in her
throat. She looked about her with eyes that
did not see. " It seems a long time since I
was at home. I thought I never should come
back — never ! After all, there's nothing to a
woman like her home — nothing, Tom." Again
there was that strange catching. " You've
brought me a long way — a long, long way.
To think that you should see me in the
Borough — after all these years — and should
bring me right straight home, I wondered,
if ever you did see me, if you'd bring me
home — Tom. Only I wish — I wish you'd
seen me before. I'm — a little tired now."
She put her hand up to her face with a
gesture which suggested weariness which was
more than mortal, and which only eternal rest
could soothe — her hand in what was once a
glove. When she removed it there was some-
thing in her eyes which showed that she had
suddenly attained to at least a partial conscious-
ness of her surroundings. She looked at the
264
TWO VISITORS
two girls and the two men grasped together on
her right, with, at any rate, a perception that
they were there.
" Who — who are these people ? Whoever
you are, I'm glad to see you ; this is a great
night with me. I've seen my husband for the
first time for years and years, and he's brought
me home with him again — after all that time.
This is my husband — Tom."
She held out her hand, as if designating with
it some one who was in front of her. They, on
their part, were silent, spellbound, uncertain
whether the person to whom and of whom she
spoke with so much confidence might not be
present, though by them unseen.
" It's a strange homecoming, is it not .? And
though I'm tired — oh, so tired ! — I'm glad I'm
home again. To this house he brought me
when we were married — didn't you, Tom .?
In this house my baby was born — wasn't it,
Tom ^ And here it died." There came a
look into her face which, for the moment,
265
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
made it beautiful ; to such an extent is beauty
a matter of expression. " My dear little baby !
It seems only the other day when I held it in
my arms. It's as if the house were full of
ghosts — isn't it, Tom .? "
Her eyes wandered round the room, as if
in search of some one or of something, and
presently they lighted upon Mr. Ballingall.
As they did so, the whole expression of her
countenance was changed ; it assumed a look
of unspeakable horror.
" Charles Ballingall ! " she gasped. " Tom
— Tom, what is he doing here .? "
She stretched out her hands, seeming to seek
for protection from the some one who was in
front of her — repeating the other's name as
if involuntarily, as though it were a thing
accursed.
" Charles Ballingall ! "
Slowly, inch by inch, her glance passed from
the shrinking vagabond, until it stayed, seeming
to search with an eager longing the face of the
266
rrvo VISITORS
one who was before her in the apparently vacant
air.
" Tom ! — what's he doing here ? Tom !
Tom ! don't look at me like that ! Don't,
Tom — for God's sake, don't look at me like
that ! " She broke into sudden volubility,
every word a cry of pain. " Tom, I'm — I'm
your wife ! You — you brought me home !
Just now ! — from the Borough ! — all the way !
— all the long, long way — home ! Tom ! "
The utterance of the name was like a scream
of a wounded animal in its mortal agony.
The four onlookers witnessed an extraordinary
spectacle. They saw this tattered, drabbled
remnant of what was once a woman, whose
whole appearance spoke of one who tottered
on the very borders of the grave, struggling
with the frenzy of an hysterical despair with
the visitant from the world of shades who, it
was plain to her, if not to others, was her
companion — the husband whom, with such
malignant cruelty and such persistent ingrati-
267
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
tude, she had wronged so long ago. She had
held out her hands, her treacherous hands,
seeking to shelter them in his ; and it seemed
as if, for a moment, he had suffered them to
stay, and that now, since she had realised the
presence of her associate in sin, unwilling to
retain them any more in his, he sought to
thrust them from him ; while she, perceiving
that what she had supposed to be the realisa-
tion of hopes which she had not even dared
to cherish was proving but a chimera, and the
fruit which she was already pressing to her lips
but an Apple of Sodom, strained every nerve to
retain the hold of the hands whose touch had
meant to her almost an equivalent to an open
door to Paradise. With little broken cries and
gasping supplications, she writhed and twisted
as she strove to keep her grasp.
" Tom ! Tom ! Tom ! " she exclaimed, over
and over again. " You brought me home !
you brought me home ! Don't put me from
you ! Tom ! Tom ! Tom ! "
268
rJVO VISITORS
It seemed that the struggle ended in her
discomfiture, and that the hands which she had
hoped would draw her forward had been used
to thrust her back ; for, staggering backwards
as if she had been pushed, she put her palms up
to her breasts and panted, staring like one
distraught.
By degrees, regaining something of her com-
posure, she turned and looked at Ballingall,
with a look before which he cowered, actually
raising his arm as if warding off a blow. And,
when she had breath enough, she spoke to him,
in a whisper, as if her strength was gone.
" What are you doing here ? "
Ballingall hesitated, looking about him this
way and that as if seeking for some road of
retreat. Finding none, making a pitiful effort
to gather himself together, he replied to her
question in a voice which was at once tremulous
and sullen.
" Tom asked me to come. You know, Tom,
you asked me to come."
269
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
He stretched out his arm with a gesture
which was startUng, as if to him also the
woman's companion was a reahty. There was
silence. He repeated his assertion, still with
his outstretched arm.
" You know, Tom, you asked me to come."
Then there happened the most startling
thing of all. Some one laughed. It was a
man's laugh — low, soft, and musical. But
there was about it this peculiar quality — it was
not the merriment of one who laughs with, but
of one who laughs at ; as though the laugher
was enjoying thoroughly, with all his heart, a
jest at another's expense. Before it the man
and woman cowered, as if beneath a rain of
blows.
After it ceased they were still. It was plain
that the woman was ashamed, disillusioned,
conscious that she had been made a butt of ;
and that, in spite of all appearances to the
contrary, she was still among the hopeless, the
outcast, the condemned. She glanced furtively
270
TTFO VISITORS
towards the companion of her shame ; then more
quickly still away from him, as if realising only
too well that, in that quarter, there was no
promise of hope rekindled. And she said,
with choking utterance :
*' Tom, I never thought — you'd laugh at
me. Did you bring — me home — for this .? "
She put up her hands, in their dreadful
gloves, to her raddled, shrunken face, and
stood, for a moment, still. Then her frame
began to quiver, and she cried ; and as she
cried there came that laugh again.
The note of mockery that was in it served
to sting Ballingall into an assertion of such
manhood as was in him. He clenched his fists,
drew himself straighter, and, throwing back his
head, faced towards where the laughter seemed
to stand.
" Tom," he said, " I've used you ill. We've
both of us used you ill, both she and I — she's
been as false a wife to you as I've been friend.
Our sins have been many — black as ink, bitter
271
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
as gall. We know it, both of us. We've had
reason to know it well. But, Tom, consider
what our punishment has been. Look at us —
at her, at me. Think of what we were, and
what we are. Remember what it means to
have come to this from that. Every form of
suffering I do believe we've known — of mind
and of body too — she in her way, and I in
mine. We've been sinking lower and lower
and lower, through every form of degradation,
privation, misery, until at last we're in the
ditch — amidst the slime of the outer ditch.
We've lost all that there is worth having, so
far as life's concerned, for ever. The only
hope that is left us is the hour in which it is
appointed that we shall die. For my part, my
hope is that for me that hour is not far off.
And, as I'm a living man, I believe that for her
it has already come ; that the scythe is raised
to reap ; that she's dying where she stands.
Have you no bowels of compassion, Tom —
none ? You used to have. Are they all dried
TWO FISirORS
and withered ? There's forgiveness for sinners,
Tom, with God ; is there none with you ?
You used to be of those who forgive till
seventy times seven ; are you now so unfor-
giving ? You may spurn me, you may trample
on me, you may press my head down into the
very slime of the ditch ; you know that these
many months you've torn and racked me with
all the engines of the torture chambers : but
she's your wife, Tom — she was your wife ! you
loved her once ! She bore to you a little child
— a little baby, Tom, a little baby ! It's dead
— with God, Tom, with God ! She's going to
it now — now, now ! While she's passing into
the very presence chamber, where her baby is,
don't abase her, Tom. Don't, Tom, don't ! "
He threw out his arms with a gesture of
such frenzied entreaty, and his whole figure
was so transformed by the earnestness, and
passion, and pathos, and even anguish with
which he pressed his theme, that at least the
spectators were cut to the heart
273 T
70M OSSINGTON'S GHOST
" I know not," he cried, " whether you
are dead or hving, or whether I myself am
mad or sane — for, indeed, to me of late the
world has seemed all upside down. But
this I know, that I see you and that you
see me, and if, as I suppose, you come from
communion with the Eternal, you must know
that, in that Presence, there is mercy for
the lowest — for the chief of sinners ! There
is mercy, Tom, I know that there is mercy !
Therefore I entreat you to consider, Tom,
the case of this woman — of she who was
your wife, the mother of your child. She has
paid dearly for her offence against you — paid
for it every moment of every hour of every
day of every year since she offended. Since
then she has been continually paying. Is
not a quittance nearly due — from you, Tom ?
If blood is needed to wash out her guilt, she
has wept tears of blood. If suffering — look at
her and see how she has suffered. And now,
even as I stand and speak to you, she dies.
274
TfFO FISirORS
She bears her burden to the grave. Is she to
add to it, still, the weight of your resentment ?
That will be the heaviest weight of all.
Beneath it, how shall she stagger to the foot-
stool of her God .^ All these years she has
lived in hell. Don't — with your hand, Tom !
— now she's dying, thrust her into hell, for
ever. But put her hand in yours, and bear
her up, and stay her, Tom, and lead her to
the throne of God. If she can say that you've
forgiven her, God will forgive her too. And
then she'll find her baby, Tom,"
It was a strange farrago of words which
Ballingall had strung together, but the occasion
was a strange one too. His earnestness, in
which all was forgotten save his desire to effect
his purpose, seemed to cast about them a halo
as of sanctity. It was almost as if he stood
there, pleading for a sinner, in the very Name
of Christ — the great Pleader for all great
sinners.
The woman, this latest Magdalene, did as
275
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
that first Magdalene had done, she fell on her
knees and wept — tears of bitterness.
" Tom ! Tom ! " she cried, " Tom ! Tom ! "
But he to whom she cried did not do
as the Christ, the Impersonation of Divine
Mercy, did. Christ wept with the sinners.
He to whom she pleaded laughed at her.
And, beneath his laughter, she crouched lower
and lower, till she lay almost prostrate on the
floor ; and her body quivered as if he struck
her with a whip.
Ballingall, as if he could scarcely credit the
evidence of his own senses, started back and
stared, as though divided between amazement
and dismay. Under his breath, he put a
singular inquiry — the words seeming to be
wrung from him against his will.
" Tom ! — Are you a devil ? "
And it seemed as if an answer came. For
he stood in the attitude of one who listens, and
the muscles of his face worked as if what was
being said was little to his mind. A dogged
276
TTVO VISITORS
look came into his eyes, and about his mouth.
He drew himself further back, as if retreating
before undesired advances. Words came sul-
lenly from between his teeth,
" No, Tom, no — I want i)one of that. It
isn't that I ask ; you know it isn't that."
It appeared as if the overtures made by the
unseen presence, unwelcome though they were,
were being persisted in. For Ballingall shook
his head, raising his hands as if to put them
from him, conveying in his bearing the whole
gamut of dissent ; breaking, at last, into ex-
clamations which were at once defiant, suppliant,
despairing.
" No, Tom, no ! I don't want your fortune.
You know I don't ! All this time you've been
dangling it before my eyes, and all the time
it's been a will-o'-the-wisp, leading me deeper
and deeper into the mire. I was unhappy
enough when first you came to me and spoke
of it — but I've been unhappier since, a thousand
times. You might have let me have it at the
277
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
beginning, if you'd chosen — but you didn't
choose. You used it to make of me a mock,
and a gibe — your plaything — whipping boy !
To-night the lure of it has only served as
a means to bring us here together — she and
I !— when you know I'd rather have gone a
hundred miles barefooted to hide from her my
face. I don't know if there is a fortune hidden
in this house or not, and I don't care if behind
its walls are concealed the riches of Golconda.
I'll have none of it— it's too late ! too late !
I've asked you for what I'd give a many
fortunes, and you've laughed at me. You'll
not show, by so much as a sign, that you forgive
her — now, at this eleventh hour. There's
nothing else of yours I'll have."
In reply, there came again that quiet
laughter, with in it that curious metallic
quality, which seemed to act on the quivering
nerves of the two sin-stained, wayworn wretches
as if it had been molten metal. At the
sound of it they gave a guilty start, as if
278
TJVO VISITORS
the ghosts of all their sins had risen to
scourge them.
From her demeanour, the laugher, diverting
his attention from Ballingali, had apparently
turned to address the woman. In accents
which had grown perceptibly weaker since her
first entering, she essayed to speak.
" Yes, Tom, I'll get up. If you wish me,
Tom, of course I will. I'm — tired, Tom —
that's all."
She did get up, in a fashion which demon-
strated she was tired. The process of ascension
was not the work of a moment, and when she
had regained her feet, she swung this way and
that, like a reed in the wind. It was only
by what seemed a miracle that she did not
fall.
" Don't be angry — I'm tired — Tom — that's
all."
In her voice there was a weariness un-
speakable.
Something, it seemed, was said to her —
279
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
from which, as Ballingall had done, only in
her feebler way, she expressed dissent.
" I don't want your money, Tom. It's so
good of you ; it's like you used to be, kind
and generous. You always did give me lots
of money, Tom, But — I don't want money
— not now, Tom, not now."
Something else was said, which stung her,
for she clasped her hands in front of her,
with a movement of pain.
" I — didn't wish to make you angry, Tom
- — ^I'm — sure I didn't. Don't speak to me
and look at me like that, don't, Tom, don't !
You don't know how it hurts me, now — that
I'm so tired. I'll go and fetch your money
if you wish me — of course I will, if — you'll
show me — where it is. I'll go at once.
Upstairs ? Yes, Tom — I don't think I'm —
too tired to go upstairs, if — you'll come with
me. Yes, Tom — I'm — going — now."
The woman turned towards the door hastily.
With a swift, eager gesture, in which there
280
TWO VISITORS
was something both mysterious and secretive,
Ballingall addressed the four onlookers, the
spellbound spectators of this, perhaps, un-
parelleled experience in the regions of ex-
perimental psychology. He spoke beneath his
breath, hurriedly, hoarsely, with fugitive side-
long glances, as if before all things he was
anxious that what he said should be heard by
them alone.
" He's going to show her where the fortune
is!"
The woman opened the door.
CHAPTER XVII
THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE
OHE Stood, for a second, with the handle
of the open door in her grasp — as if she
was glad of its support to aid her stand.
Then, with a quick glance backwards, as of
pleading to the one who exercised over her
so strange a spell, she tottered from the
room. She continued speaking as she went,
as if deprecating the other's wrath.
" I shall be all right — in a moment — if
you don't — hurry me at first. I'm only slow
because — I'm a little tired. It'll soon go, this
tired feeling, Tom — and I'll be sure — to be
quicker when it's gone."
Ballingall hung back as she passed from
282
THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE
the room, seeming, from his attitude, to be
in two minds whether to follow her at all.
The others, as if taking their cue from him,
seemed hesitating too — until Madge, with head
thrown back, and lists hanging clenched at
her sides, went after her through the door.
Then they moved close on Madge's heels —
Bruce Graham in front, Ballingall bringing
up the rear.
The woman was staggering up the stairs,
with obvious unwillingness — and, also, with
more than sufficient feebleness. It was with
difficulty she could lift her feet from step to
step. Each time she raised her foot she gave
a backward lurch, which threatened to pre-
cipitate her down the whole of the distance
she had gained.
Madge's impulse was to dash forward, put her
arms about the unfortunate creature's wrist and,
if she needs must go forward, bear her bodily
to the top of the stairs. But although, at the
pitiful sight which the woman presented, her
283
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
fingers tingled and her pulses throbbed, she was
stayed from advancing to proffer her the assist-
ance which she longed to render by the con-
sciousness, against which she strove in vain, that
between the woman and herself there was a
something which not only did she dare not pass,
but which she dare not even closely approach.
Over and over again she told herself that it was
nonsense — but a delusion born of the woman's
diseased and conscience-haunted brain. There
was absolutely nothing to be seen ; and why
should she, a healthy-minded young woman,
suffer herself to be frightened by the vacant
air ? But in spite of all her efforts at self-
persuasion, she allowed a considerable space to
continue to exist between herself and the trem-
bling wretch upon the stairs.
Slowly the queer procession advanced — the
woman punctuating, as it were, with her plain-
tive wailings every step she took.
" Tom ! Tom ! Tom ! " She continually re-
peated the name, with all the intonations of
284
THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE
endearment, supplication, reproach, and even
terror. To hear her was a liberal education
in the different effects which may be produced
by varieties of emphasis.
" Don't hurry me ! I'm — going as quickly
as I can. I — shall soon be at the top ! It's so
— so steep — a staircase — Tom."
At last the top was reached. She stood upon
the landing, clinging to the banisters as she
gasped for breath. Her figure swayed back-
ward and forward, in so ominous a fashion
that, halfway up the staircase, almost involun-
tarily Madge stretched out her arms to catch
her if she fell. But she did not fall — nor was
she allowed much time to recover from her
exertions.
"I'm going — if — you'll let me — rest — for
just one moment — Tom. Where do you wish
me to go.^ "
It seemed as if her question was answered, for
she gave a shuddering movement towards the
wall, and burst into a passion of cries.
285
70M 0SSING70N'S GHOST
" No, Tom — not there ! not there ! not
there ! Don't make me go into our bedroom
— not into our bedroom ! "
The command which had been given her was
apparently repeated, for, drawing herself away
from the wall, she went with new and shudder-
ing haste along the passage.
"■ I'm — I'm going ! Only — have mercy —
have mercy on me, Tom ! I don't wish to
anger you, only have mercy, Tom ! "
The bedroom in front of the house was the
one which was occupied by Ella, It was
towards this room that the woman was moving
with hurried, tremulous steps. Her unwilling-
ness to advance was more marked than before,
and yet she seemed urged by something which
was both in front and behind her, which she
was powerless to resist. They could see she
shuddered as she went ; and she uttered cries,
half of terror, half of pain.
And yet she advanced with a decision, and a
firmness, and also a rapidity, which was unlike
286
THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE
anything she hitherto had shown. On the
threshold of the room she stopped, starting
back, and throwing out her hands in front of
her.
" It's our bedroom, Tom — it's full of ghosts !
Ghosts ! Ghosts ! Don't make me go into the
bedroom, Tom."
But the propelling force, whatever it might
have been, was beyond her power to withstand.
She gave a sudden, exceeding bitter cry.
Turning the handle, she flung the door right
back upon its hinges. With a peal of laughter,
which grated on the ears of those who heard
almost more than anything which had gone
before, she staggered into the room. As she
disappeared they stopped, listening, with faces
which had suddenly grown whiter, to her
strange merriment.
" This is our bedroom — ha ! ha ! ha ! — where
you brought me when we were first married !
Why, Tom, how many years is it since I was
here .^ Ha, ha, ha ! — 1 never thought I should
287
TOM OSSJNGTON'S GHOST
come back to our bedroom, Tom — never ! Ha,
ha, ha ! "
All at once there was a change in her tone
— a note of terror. The laughter fled with
the dreadful suddenness with which it had
come.
" Don't, Tom, Don't ! Have mercy —
mercy ! I'll do as you wish me — you know
I will ; I'll — get your money. Only — I didn't
know — you kept it — in our bedroom — Tom.
You didn't use to."
So soon as the laughter, fading, was exchanged
for that panic cry, Madge hurried after her into
the room — the others, as ever, hard upon her
heels. The woman stood in the centre of the
floor, looking about her with glances of evident
bewilderment, as if seeking for something she
had been told to look for. She searched in vain.
Her eagerness was pitiful. She looked hither
and thither, in every direction, as if, urged to
the search, she feared, in speechless agony, the
penalties of disobedience. All the while she
288
THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE
kept giving short, sharp cries of strained and
frenzied fear.
" I'm looking ! I'm looking, Tom, as hard
as I can, but — I see nothing — nothing, Tom !
I'm doing as you tell me — I am — I am — I am !
Oh, Tom, I am ! But I don't see your money
— I don't ! I don't ! If you'll show me where it
is, I'll get it ; but I see nothing of your money,
Tom ! Where is it ? — Here ! "
She moved towards the wash-hand stand,
which was at the side of the room.
" Behind the washstand } "
She lifted the piece of furniture on one side
with a degree of strength of which, light
though it was, one would not have thought
that she was capable. Getting behind it, she
placed against the wall her eager, trembling
hand.
" But — your money isn't here. There's
nothing but the wall. Take the paper off
the wall .? But — how am I to do it .? — With
my fingers ! — I can't tear off with my fingers,
rOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
Tom. Oh, Tom, I'll try ! Don't speak to
me like that — I'll try ! "
With feverish haste she dragged the apologies
for gloves off her quivering hands.
" Where shall I tear it off .? — Here .? Yes,
Tom, I'll try to tear it off just here."
Dropping on her knees she attacked with her
nails the wall where, while she remained in that
posture, it was about the height of her head —
endeavouring to drive the edges through the
paper, and to pick it off, as children do.
But her attempts were less successful than are
the efforts of the average ingenious child.
" I can't, Tom, I can't ! My fingers are not
strong enough, and my nails are broken — don't
be angry with me, Tom."
She made frantic little dabs at the wall. But
her endeavours to make an impression on the
paper were without result. It was plain that
with her unassisted nails she might continue
to peck at it in vain for ever.
Madge turned to Mr. Graham.
290
" ' I can't, To:":i, I can"t I My fingers ai'; not strong enough, and
my nails are broken— don't be angry with me, Tom !'"
{To /ace f. 290.
THE KET TO THE PUZZLE
" Have you a pocket-knife ? "
Without a word he took one from his
waistcoat pocket.
Not waiting for him to open it, she took it
from him with an action which almost amounted
to a snatch. With her own fingers she opened
the largest blade. Making a large, and under
the circumstances curious circuit, in order to
reach her, leaning over the washstand, touch-
ing the woman on the shoulder, she held out
to her the knife.
Shrinking under Madge's finger, with an
exclamation she looked round to see who
touched her
" Take this," said Madge. " It's a knife.
With its help you'll be better able to tear the
paper off the wall."
She took it — without a word of thanks, and,
with it in her grasp, returned to the attack with
energies renewed.
" I've got a knife, Tom, I've got a knife.
Now I'll get the paper off quicker — much
291
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
quicker. I'll soon get to your money,
Tom."
But she did not get to it. On the contrary,
the process of stripping off the paper did not
proceed much more rapidly than before, even
with the help of Mr. Graham's knife. It was
with the greatest difficulty that she was able to
get off two or three square inches.
The disappearance, however, of even this
small portion revealed the fact that the paper-
hanger who had been responsible for putting it
into place, instead of stripping off the previous
wall covering, as paperhangers are supposed to
do, had been content, to save himself what he
had, perhaps, deemed unnecessary trouble, to
paste this latest covering on the previous one.
This former paper appeared to have been of
that old-fashioned kind which used to be popular
in the parlours of country inns, and such-like
places, and which was wont to be embellished
with " pictorial illustrations." The scraping off,
by the woman, of the small fragments of paper
292
THE KET TO THE PUZZLE
which she had succeeded in removing, showed
that the one beneath it seemed to have been
ornamented with more or less striking repre-
sentations of various four-footed animals. On
the space laid bare were figures of what might
have been meant for anything ; and which, in
the light of the last line on Mr. BaUingall's
manuscript, were probably intended for cats and
dogs.
With these the woman was fumbling with
hesitating, awkward fingers.
" Cat — dog ^ I don't — I don't understand,
Tom — I see, Tom, — these are the pictures of
cats and dogs. I'm blind, and stupid, and
slow. I ought to have seen at once what
they were .? — I know I ought. But — be patient
with me, Tom. Which one ^ — This one }
Yes, I see — this one. It's — it's — yes, Tom,
it's a dog's head, I see it is. — What am I to
do with it ^ Press .? — Yes, Tom, I am press-
ing. — Press harder } Yes, I'll — I'll try ; but
I'm — I'm not very strong, and I can't press
293
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
much harder. Have mercy ! — have mercy,
Tom ! Say — say you forgive me — forgive
me ! but I — I can't press harder, Tom — I
can't ! "
She could not — so much was plain. Even
as the words were passing from her lips, she
relinquished pressing altogether. Uttering a
little throbbing cry, she turned away from
the wall, throwing up her arms with a gesture
of entreaty, and sinking on to the floor, she
lay there still. As she dropped, that gentle,
mocking laugh rang through the startled
294
CHAPTER XVIll
MADGE APPLIES MORE STRENGTH
TI77AS it imagination ? Or was it fact ?
' Did some one or something really
pass from the room, causing in going a little
current of air ? With startled faces each put
to the other an unspoken query.
Which none answered.
The woman lay there, motionless, her ex-
ceeding stillness seeming accentuated by the
sudden silence which filled the room. Bruce
Graham, moving forward, took her up in his
arms, as if she were but a feather's weight.
His knife fell from her nerveless fingers,
tumbling to the floor with startling clatter.
Madge picked it up. Her voice rang out
295
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
with clarion clearness — the voice of a woman
whose nerves were tense as fiddle-strings.
" I'll see if I cannot press harder. This
mystery must be solved to-night — before some
of us go mad ; if pressing will do it, it shall
soon be done — if there's strength in me at
all."
There was strength in her — and not a
little.
She went on her knees where the woman
had been ; and, as she had done, fumbled
with her jfingers where the paper had been
scraped from the wall, peering closely at it,
as she did so.
" A dog's head, is it ? — it doesn't look as
if it were a dog's head to me, and that's
not because I'm stupid. It's to be pressed,
is it ? — Well, if pressing will do it, here's
for pressing ! "
She exerted all her force against the point
to which the woman had been directed.
" It gives ! It gives ! — something gives be-
296
MADGE APPLIES MORE STRENGTH
neath my thumb : it's the knob of a spring
or something — I'm sure of it."
Turning, she looked up at Graham with
flaming cheeks and flashing eyes.
" The spring is sure to be rusty. It will
need all your strength. Try it again."
She tried again.
" It does give — it does ! But whatever it
is supposed to open is not likely to act now
that the wall has been repapered. Some one
go and fetch the hammer and the chisel from
downstairs — we'll try another way."
She glanced at Jack, as if intending the
suggestion to apply to him. But Ella clung
to his arm, which perhaps prevented him
from moving with the speed which might
have been expected.
" Will no one go .^ " cried Madge. " Why,
then, I'll go myself"
But that Bruce Graham would not permit.
Swiftly depositing his still unconscious burden
on Ella's bed, he went in search of the required
2Q7
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
tools, returning almost as soon as he had
gone.
" I think, Miss Brodie, that perhaps you had
better allow me to try my hand. I am stronger
than you."
She gave way to him unhesitatingly.
" Drive the chisel into the wall and see if it
is hollow."
He did as she bade him. A couple of blows
put the thing beyond a doubt. The chisel
disappeared up to the hilt through what v/as
evidently but an outer shell. Madge continued
to issue her instructions.
" Break the wall in ! It's no use fumbling
with dogs' head in search of hidden springs —
with us it's a case of the shortest road's the
best. Whatever's inside that wall has been
there long enough to excuse us if we're a little
neglectful of ceremonious observances."
In a few minutes the wall was broken in, the
ancient woodwork offering no resistance to
Bruce Graham's vigorous onslaught. A cavity
298
MADGE APPLIES MORE STRENGTH
was made large enough to thrust one's head in.
Madge stopped him.
" That'll do — for the present ! Now let's
see what there is inside ! "
She went down on her knees the better to
enable her to see, Graham moving aside to
give her room. She thrust her fair young face
as far into the opening as she could get it —
only to discover that she was obscuring her own
light. Out it came again.
"Give me a light — a match, or something.
It's as dark as pitch in there."
Graham gave her a box of matches. Striking
one, she introduced it into what was as the
heart of the wall.
" There is something in there ! "
She dropped the match. Fortunately it went
out as it fell.
" It's the hidden fortune ! "
She gave a gasp. Then in an instant she was
on her feet and was hastening towards the
recumbent figure on the bed.
299
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
The woman still lay motionless. Madge,
bending down, caught her by the shoulder,
forgetful of all in her desire to impart the
amazing news.
" Your husband's fortune's in the wall —
we've found it there."
Something on the woman's face, in her utter
stillness, seemed to fill her with new alarm.
She called to the others.
" Ella ! — Mr. Graham ! Jack ! " Her voice
sank to a whisper ; there was a catching of her
breath. " Is she dead ? "
They came hastening towards her. Jack
Marty n, stopping halfway, looking round,
startled them with a fresh inquiry, to which
he himself supplied the answer,
" By George ! — I say ! — where's Ballingall ?
— Why, he's gone ! "
300
CHAPTER XIX
THE WOMAN AND THE MAN
V^ES — the woman was dead. Ballingall had
gone — and the fortune was found.
Put in that way, it was a curious sequence of
events.
Indeed, put in any way, there could be no
doubt about the oddity of the part which the
woman had played.
Medical examination clearly showed that death
had come to her from natural causes. She must,
the doctor said, have been within a hand's-
breadth of death for, at any rate, the last twelve
months. He declared that every vital organ was
hopelessly diseased. Asked if the immediate
cause of death was shock, he replied that there
301
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
was nothing whatever in the condition of the
body which could be regarded as supporting
such a theory. In his opinion, the woman had
burned out, like a candle, which, when it is all
consumed, dies. Nothing, in his judgment,
could have retarded the inevitable end ; just
as there was nothing to suggest that it came
one instant sooner than might, in the natural
course, have been expected.
That was what the doctor said in public,
at the coroner's inquest.
He listened to them when, in private, they
told him the strange story of the night's
adventure, pronouncing at the conclusion an
opinion which contained in it the essence of
all wisdom, for it might be taken any way.
The gist of it was this. Very probably for
some time before her death, the woman had
been light-headed. When people are light-
headed they suffer from hallucinations. It was
quite possible that, in her case, those hallucin-
ations had taken the form — literally — of her
302
THE WOMAN AND THE MAN
injured husband. It was on record that
hallucinations had taken form, in similar cases.
It was a perfectly feasible and reasonable theory
which supposed that the woman, wandering,
a homeless outcast, in the streets of London,
delirious, premonitions of her approaching dis-
solution being borne in upon her in spite of
her delirium, would turn her dying footsteps
towards her one-time home, to which, as her
behaviour in forcing herself on Madge plainly
showed, her thoughts had recently returned.
Nor, under the circumstances, was there any-
thing surprising in her delusion that her
husband had led her there.
It was when asked to explain how it was
that she had hit upon the hiding-place of her
husband's fortune — hit upon it, as it seemed,
altogether against her will, that the doctor
became oracular. But even here he was not
without his hints as to the direction in v/hich
an explanation might be found.
He pointed out that our study of the science
303
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
of mental psychology was still in its infancy.
But, even so far as it had gone, it seemed to
suggest the possibility of what has come to
be called telepathic communication between
two minds — even when the whilom owner of
one of the minds has passed beyond the con-
fines of the grave. This sounded a trifle
abstruse. But as the doctor professed his
inability to put it any clearer, they had to
take his statement as it stood, and make out
just as much of it as they were able.
As for Ballingall's pretensions to having
shared the woman's hallucination — if hallucin-
ation it was — the doctor pooh-poohed them
altogether. The man was as mad as the
woman, and madder ; and an impudent rogue
to boot. Where was he ^ Let him come
forward, and allow himself and his statements
to be scientifically tested. Then it would be
shown what reliance could be placed on any-
thing which he might say.
But where Ballingall was, was exactly the
304
THE WOMAN AND THE MAN
problem which they found insoluble. He had
vanished as completely as if he had never
existed. The presumption was, that while
they had been absorbed in watching Madge's
efforts to carry on the work of discovery
from the point at which the woman had left
it, he had sneaked, unnoticed, from the room
and from the house. The curious feature was
that they were unable to agree as to the exact
moment at which he could have gone. Bruce
Graham declared that he was in the room when
he went to fetch the hammer and chisel, and
that he was still there when he returned.
Madge protested that he was in the room
when she ran across to the recumbent figure
on Ella's bed. If so, since Jack discovered
his absence within less than a minute after-
wards, it was during that scant sixty seconds
that he made good his escape.
Why he had gone at all was difficult to say.
One might have thought that after what he
had undergone during his search for the for-
305 X
70M OSSINGTON'S GHOSl
tune he would hardly have disappeared at
the moment ot its finding. He had suffered
so much in looking, that he had earned at
least a share, when at last it was brought to
light. Such, certainly, was the strong feeling
of its actual discoverer. He stood in need
enough of money ; that was sure. Why then,
at what from one point of view might be de-
scribed as the very moment of his triumph,
had he vanished .?
He alone could tell.
They could only give wild guesses. Nothing
has been seen or heard of him from that hour
to this. They put advertisements for him in
the papers, without result. Then, as they
felt that living the sort of life which he pro-
bably was living — that is, if he was living at
all — it was within the range of probability that
a newspaper would never come his way, and
that he would never glance at it if it did, they
distributed handbills broadcast through the
slums of London, beseeching him to apply to
306
THE JVOMJN AND THE MAN
a certain address, and offering a reward to any
one who could give an account of his proceed-
ings after the night on which he had taken
himself away.
To those handbills they did receive answers
— in abundance. There were evidently plenty
of people who were willing, nay, anxious, to lay
their hands on that reward, just as there seemed
several Charles Ballingalls with whom they were
acquainted. But no one of them was the
Charles Ballingall. More than once they
thought they had chanced on him at last ; the
stories told were such very specious ones, and
they followed up the trail till it proved beyond
all manner of doubt to be a false one. When
the Charles Ballingall to whom it referred was
unearthed, he proved, in each and every case, to
be not in the least like theirs.
And so the presumption is that the man is
dead. He was, probably, as the doctor sug-
gested, more than half out of his mind on that
eventful night ; his sins had brought him
307
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
suffering enough to have driven the average
mortal mad. It is not unUkely that the
strange things which then transpired, com-
pleting the work of destruction, robbed him of
his few remaining senses ; and that, at that last
moment, when Madge Brodie announced her
discovery of what he had sought with so much
pain and with such ardour, the irony of fate
which seemed to have pursued him, pressing on
him still, had driven him out into the night, a
raving lunatic, seeking anywhere and anyhow
for escape from the burden of life which
haunted him.
God alone can tell where and how he found
it.
308
CHAPTER XX
THE FORTUNE
A ND the fortune ?
This remark may be made — that had
they not found it when they did there would
very shortly have been nothing left to find.
Mr. Thomas Ossington had chosen for the
treasure-chest a simple opening in the wall, to
which access had originally been gained by
touching a spring. This spring had been con-
cealed under what had probably been a picture
of a dog's head ; the fifth alternating dog's
head on the right-hand side of the bedroom
door. When you pressed it a door flew open.
But this primitive treasure-chest, if not
entirely obvious to the world at large, was
309
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
open to the rats and mice, and similar small
deer, who had their happy hunting-grounds
within the wall itself. The result was that,
when the contents were examined, it was found
that the bundles of bank-notes had been
gnawed, in some cases to unrecognisable
shreds ; that meals — hearty ones of the cut-
and-come-again description — had been made of
parchment deeds, bonds, share certificates, and
similar impediments ; that coin — gold coin —
had been contained in bags, which bags had
been consumed, even to the strings which once
had tied them. The coins lay under accumula-
tions of dust, in heaps upon the floor. On
several were actually well-marked indentations,
showing that sharp, gleaming teeth had applied
to them a stringent test before finally deciding
that they really were not good to eat. A
curious spectacle the whole presented when first
brought to the light of day.
However, in but few cases had the damage
proceeded to lengths which had rendered what
310
THE FORTUNE
was left absolutely worthless — discovery had
come just in the nick of time. The Bank of
England was good enough to hand over cash
in exchange for the fragments of all notes of
which there was satisfactory evidence that there
had been once a whole. The various docu-
ments which represented property were none of
them in a condition which rendered recognition
altogether impossible, and when it was once
established what they were, for all intents and
purposes they were as available for their original
use as if they had been in a condition of pris-
tine freshness.
Altogether the find represented a sum of
something like ^^40,000. Not a large fortune,
as fortunes go, but still a comfortable capital to
be the possessor of. If fate only had been kind
to him, and the men and women who formed
his world of finer texture, Tom Ossington
might have been as happy as the days were
long.
Oddly enough, the real trouble came after
311
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
the fortune was found. The difficulty was as
to whom it belonged — not because the claimants
were so many, but because they were so f^w.
It was Madge's wish that it should be
divided between those who were actually
present at the moment of its discovery, main-
taining that such a division would be in accord-
ance with both law and equity. Ballingall's
continued disappearance resolved the number
of these into four — Ella, Jack Martyn, Bruce
Graham, and herself. The first rift in the
lute was caused by Mr. Graham, he refusing
point-blank to have part or parcel in any
such transaction. He maintained that the
fortune had been found by Madge, and that
therefore, in accordance with the terms of
the will, the whole of it was hers. In any
case he would have none of it. He had felt,
on mature reflection, that Ballingall's accusa-
tions had not been without foundation, that
his conduct had been unprofessional, that he
had had no right to share his confidence with
312
THE FORTUNE
anybody — that, in short, he had behaved ill
in the whole affair ; and that, therefore, he
had no option but to decline to avail himself
of any advantages which v/ere, so to speak,
the proceeds of his misbehaviour.
When she heard this, Madge laughed out-
right. Seeing that her laughter made no im-
pression, and that the gentleman continued of
the same opinion still, she was moved to use
language which was, to say the least, sur-
prising. It was plain that, beneath the lash
of the lady's tongue, he was unhappy. But
his unhappiness did not go deep enough to
induce him to change his mind. When it
was obvious that his resolve was adamant, and
that by no means could he be induced to
move from it, she announced her own decision.
" Very well ; if the fortune's mine, it's mine.
And if it's mine I can do what I like with it.
And what I like, is to divide it with Ella ;
and if Ella will not have half, then I'll not
have a farthing either. And the whole shall
313
TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
go to the Queen, or to whoever unclaimed
money does go. And you'll find that I
can be as firm — or as obstinate — as anybody
else."
" But, my dear," observed Ella, mildly, " I
never said that I wouldn't have half. I'm
sure I'll be delighted. I'll need no pressing
— and thank you very kindly, ma'am."
" I do believe, Ella," returned Madge, with
calmness which was both significant and deadly,
" that you are the only reasonable person with
whom I am acquainted."
So it was arranged — the two girls divided
the whole ; which of course meant, as Madge
knew perfectly, that Jack Martyn would have
his share. As a matter of fact, Mr. and Mrs.
Martyn have been husband and wife for some
time now, and are doing very well.
And it is said — as such things are said — that
Madge Brodie will be Mrs. Bruce Graham
yet before she dies. It is believed by those
who know them best that he would give his
3H
THE FORTUNE
eyes to marry her, and that she has made up
her mind to marry him.
This being so, it would seem as if a marriage
might ensue.
If such is the case, it appears extremely
likely, if Madge ever is his wife, that, whether
he will or won't, Bruce Graham will have to
have his share.
She is as obstinate as he is — every whit.
315
"Cbc ©rcsbam press
UNWIX BROTHERS.
WOKING AND LONDON.
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With Introductions by R. Brimley Johnson.
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at the same time more informing, helpful, and stimulating."
The Dally Neivs says —
" For an intelligent child of say ten or twelve years of age, no
more delightful works could be found than Lazy Lessons and Lilliput
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regretted author of these volumes, learning would be robbed of all
its terrors."
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Mr JAMES BOWDEN'S Announcements.
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Work-a-day Sermons
By Rev. F. B. Meyer, B.A.
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The Liverpool Mercury says — " If ever a thoroughly practical and
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There is hardly a page in which some notable saying, and one likely
to dwell in the reader's memory, is not to be found."
Second Edition. Fifteenth Thousand.
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If I Were God
By Richard Le Gallienne.
The Methodist Recorder says — "The book once read will be read
again and again. It has many profound thoughts, both questionings
and solutions, expressed in words of beauty, such words as only could
come from a prose poet — a writer who here is at his best. . . . We
have no doubt that Richard I,e Gallienne's book will be read with
intense interest both in Christian and Non-Christian circles."
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The Christian Ideal
A Study for the Times
By Rev. Guinness Rogers, D.D.
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Young men will find here many precious counsels, and to readers of
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The Child, the Wise Man,
and the Devil
By Coulson Kernahan
Author ot " God and the Ant."
WHAT IS SAID OF IT BY
Rev. F. B. Meyer: "It is powerfully conceived, and thrills with
passion, but its chief value is its exposure of the hopelessness and
impossibility of the goal to which modern infidelity would conduct
us. It will arrest and convince thousands."
Rev. Dr R. H. Horton : " No laboured apology for Christianity
will go so far or accomplish so much as this impassioned utterance,
this poem in prose, this thought of the years distilled in one pearl-drop
of purest water."
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A new series of booklets on subjects of the very highest practical
importance to the religious life. The volumes are especially com-
mended to the attention of those desiring inexpensive booklets of
attractive appearance and intrinsic value for gift purposes.
Vol. I. The Soul's Quest
By Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.
A noble and fearless utterance on some of the errors of thought and
conduct that hinder the soul in its quest for God, and obscure the
consciousness of His presence.
Vol. II. What is Worth While
By A. R. Brown
A fine and lofty examination of moral values. Especially addressed
to young men and women who want to make a good start but who
are perplexed as to what is really essential to the higher life.
Others at intervals.
London : lO Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, IV.C.
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