Tom Ossington's Ghost Read online

  Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by theWeb Archive (the University of California)

  Transcriber's Notes:

  1. Page scan source: https://www.archive.org/details/tomossingtonsgho00marsrich (the University of California

  "'Listen! Can't you hear him crying now? Can't you seethe ghost?'" (_To face p_. 35)]

  TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST

  BY

  RICHARD MARSH

  _Author of_ _"The Beetle: a Mystery"; "The Duke and the Damsel";_ _"The Crime and the Criminal," &c., &c_.

  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HAROLD PIFFARD

  London

  JAMES BOWDEN 10, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. 1898

  CONTENTS

  CHAP.

  I. A NEW PUPIL.

  II. THERE'S A CONSCIENCE.

  III. TWO LONE, LORN YOUNG WOMEN.

  IV. IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.

  V. A REPRESENTATIVE OF LAW AND ORDER.

  VI. THE LONG ARM OF COINCIDENCE.

  VII. BRUCE GRAHAM'S FIRST CLIENT.

  VIII. MADGE ... AND THE PANEL.

  IX. THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN.

  X. MADGE FINDS HERSELF IN AN AWKWARD SITUATION.

  XI. UNDER THE SPELL.

  XII. TOM OSSINGTON's LAWYER.

  XIII. AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT.

  XIV. THE CAUSE OF THE INTERRUPTION.

  XV. THE COMPANION OF HIS SOLITUDE.

  XVI. TWO VISITORS.

  XVII. THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE.

  XVIII. MADGE APPLIES MORE STRENGTH.

  XIX. THE WOMAN AND THE MAN.

  XX. THE FORTUNE.

  TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST

  CHAPTER I

  A NEW PUPIL

  The first of the series of curious happenings, which led to such asurprising and, indeed, extraordinary denouement, occurred on thetwelfth of October. It was a Monday; about four-thirty in theafternoon. 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 ofthose MSS. with which she took such peculiar pains; and with which theeditors for whom they were destined took so little. If they would onlytake a little more--enough to read them through, say--Madge felt surethey would not be so continually returned. Her pen went tearing awayat a gallop--it had reached the last few lines--they were finished.She turned to glance at the clock which was on the mantelshelf behindher.

  "Gracious!--I had no idea it was so late. Ella will be home in anhour, and there is nothing in the place for her to eat!"

  She caught up the sheets of paper, fastened them together at thecorner, crammed them into an envelope, scribbled a note, crammed it inafter them, addressed the envelope, closed it, jumped up to get herhat, 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 herlesson after all--three hours late. It will be like her if it is--butshe 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 apin through the crown.

  "If she sees that I am just going out, I should think that even shewill hardly venture to ask me to give her a lesson three hours afterthe time which she herself appointed."

  As she spoke she was crossing the little passage towards the frontdoor.

  It was not Miss Brice--it was a man. A man, too, who behaved somewhatoddly. No sooner had Madge opened the door, than stepping into thetiny hall, without waiting for any sort of invitation, taking thehandle from her hand, he shut it after him with considerably morehaste than ceremony. She stared, while he leaned against the wall asif he was short of breath.

  He was tall; she only reached to his shoulder, and she was scarcelyshort. He was young--there was not a hair on his face. He was dressedin blue serge, and when he removed his felt hat he disclosed awell-shaped head covered with black hair, cut very short, with theapparent intention of getting the better of its evident tendency tocurl at the tips. His marked feature, at that moment, was his obviousdiscomposure. He did not look as if he was a nervous sort of person;yet, just then, the most bashful bumpkin could not have seemed moreill 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 thesingularity of his bearing--yet he did not appear to be the kind ofindividual who might be expected to feel "a little faint," unlessnature belied her own handwriting. The strength and constitution of aSamson was written large all over him. It seemed to strike him thathis explanation--such as it was--was a little lame, so he stammeredsomething else.

  "You give music lessons?"

  "Yes, we do give music lessons--at least, I do."

  "You? Oh!--You do?"

  His tone implied--or seemed to imply--that her appearance was hardlyconsistent with that of a giver of music lessons. She drew herself alittle up.

  "I do give music lessons. Have you been recommended by one of mypupils?"

  She cast her mind over the scanty list to ascertain which of themmight be likely to give such a recommendation. His stumbling answersaved her further trouble on that score.

  "No, I--I saw the plate on the gate, so I--I thought I'd just come inand 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 nevercontemplated giving lessons to pupils of this description. "I neverhave given lessons to a--gentleman. I supposed they always went toprofessors of their own sex."

  "Do they? I don't know. I hope you don't mind making an exception inmy 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. Heprevented 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 aquarter of an hour, to try what I can do--to see if it would be worthyour while to have me as a pupil. I have been long looking for anopportunity of taking lessons, and when I saw your plate on the gate Ijumped at the chance."

  She hesitated. The situation was an odd one--and yet she had alreadybeen for some time aware that young women who are fighting for dailybread have not seldom to face odd situations. Funds were desperatelylow. She had to contribute her share to the expenses of the littlehousehold, and that share was in arrear. Of late MSS. had been comingback more monotonously than ever. Pupils--especially those who werewilling to pay possible prices--were few and far between. Who was she,that she should turn custom from the door? It was nothing that thiswas a stranger--all her pupils were strangers at the beginning; mostof them were still strangers at the end. Men, she had heard, paybetter than women. She might take advantage of this person's sex tocharge him extra terms--even to the extent of five shillings a lessoninstead of half a crown. It was an opportunity
she could not afford tolose. She resolved to at least go so far as to learn exactly what itwas he wanted; and then if, from any point of view, it seemedadvisable, 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 thepurpose of selecting a piece of sufficient simplicity to enable a tyroto display his powers, or want of them. He was between her and thewindow. In passing the window he glanced through it. As he did so, hegave a sudden start--a start, in fact, which amounted to a positivejump. His hat dropped from his hand, and, wholly regardless that hewas leaving it lying on the floor, he hurried backwards, keeping inthe shadow, and as far as possible from the window. The action was somarked that it was impossible it should go unnoticed. It filled MadgeBrodie with a sense of shock which was distinctly disagreeable. Hereyes, too, sought the window--it looked out on to the road. A man, itstruck her, of emphatically sinister appearance, was loiteringleisurely past. As she looked he stopped dead, and, leaning over thepalings, stared intently through the window. It was true that thesurvey 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 betweenthe fellow's insolence and her visitor's perturbation that, withoutthinking of what she was doing, she placed the first piece she cameacross 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 anextreme corner of the room, in a fashion which, considering his sizeand the muscle which his appearance suggested, was, in its way,ludicrous. It was not, however, the ludicrous side which occurred toMadge; 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 mesee 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 truthis, I--I have been a little out of sorts just lately." He came brisklytowards the piano; glancing however, as Madge could not help butnotice, nervously through the window as he came. The man outside wasgone; his absence seemed to reassure him. "Is this the piece you wishme to play? I will do my best."

  He did his best--or, if it was not his best, his best must have beensomething very remarkable indeed.

  The piece she had selected--unwittingly--was a Minuet of Mozart's. Adainty trifle; a pitfall for the inexperienced; seeming so simple, yetneeding the soul, and knowledge, of a virtuoso to make anything of itat all. Hardly the sort of thing to set before a seeker after musiclessons, whose acquaintance with music, for all she knew, was limitedto picking out the notes upon the keyboard. At her final examinationshe herself had chosen it, first because she loved it, and, second,because she deemed it to be something which would enable her toillustrate her utmost powers at their very best.

  It was only when he struck the first few notes that she realised whatit 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 beingset to play it as an exhibition of his ignorance rather than of hisknowledge--was difficult to say. It is quite possible that in thepreoccupation of his mind it had escaped him altogether that the soleexcuse for his presence in that room lay in the fact that he wasseeking lessons from this young girl. There could be no doubt whateverthat 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 thathe already was a musician of a quite unusual calibre--one who had beenboth born and made.

  He played the delicate fragment with an exquisite art which filledMadge Brodie with amazement. She had never heard it played like thatbefore--never! Not even by her own professor. Perhaps her surprise wasso great that, in the first flush of it, she exaggerated the player'spowers.

  It seemed to her that this man played like one who saw into the verydepths of the composer's soul, and who had all the highest resourcesof his art at his command to enable him to give a perfect--anideal--rendering. Such an exquisite touch! such masterly fingering!such wondrous phrasing! such light and shade! such insight and suchexecution! She had not supposed that her cheap piano had been capableof such celestial harmony. She listened spellbound--for she, too, hadimagination, and she, too, loved music. All was forgotten in themoment's rapture--in her delight at hearing so unexpectedly soundingin her ears, what seemed to her, in her excitement, the very music ofthe spheres. The player seemed to be as oblivious of his surroundingsas Madge Brodie--his very being seemed wrapped up in the ecstasy ofproducing 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 thekeyboard, and he wheeled round upon the music-stool with an air ofconscience-stricken guilt. Madge stood close by, actually quiveringwith a conflict of emotions. He met her eyes--instantly to avert hisown. There was silence--then a slight tremor in her voice in spite ofher 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 ofhumour there is room for wide differences of opinion. I should call itsomething else."

  "I don't understand you."

  "That is false."

  At this point-blank contradiction, the blood showed through his sallowcheeks.

  "False?"

  "Yes, false. You do understand me. Did you not say that you had beenfor some time seeking for an opportunity to take lessons in music?"

  "I--I----"

  Confronted by her red-hot accusatory glances, he stammered, stumbled,stopped.

  "Yes?--go on."

  "I have been seeking such an opportunity."

  "Indeed? And do you wish me to suppose that you believed thatyou--you--could be taught anything in music by an unknown creature whofastened a plate announcing lessons in music, to the palings of such aplace as this?"

  He was silent--looking as if he would have spoken, but could not. Shewent on:

  "I thank you for the pleasure you have given me--the unexpectedpleasure. It is a favourite piece of mine which you have justperformed--I say 'performed' advisedly. I never heard it better playedby any one--never! and I never shall. You are a great musician. I?--Iam a poor teacher of the rudiments of the art in which you are such anadept. 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 thousandtimes better than I ever shall--I was just going out as you came in. Imust 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 excusehimself.

  "Believe me----"

  She cut him short.

  "I believe nothing--and wish to believe nothing. You had reasons ofyour own for coming here; what they were I do not know, nor do I seekto 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 glancedtowards the window. As he did so, the man who had leaned over thepalings came strolling by again. The sight of this man filled him withhis former uneasiness. He retreated further back into the room--allbut stumbling over Miss Brodie in his haste. In a person of hisphysique the agitation he displayed was pitiful. It suggested a degreeof 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 b
y a person whosescrutiny I wish to avoid. Because I wished to escape him was onereason why I came in here."

  Madge went to the window. The man in the road was lounging lazilyalong with an air of indifference which was almost too marked to bereal. He gave a backward glance as he went. At sight of Madge hequickened 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."

  "He is shorter than you--smaller altogether. Compared to you he is adwarf. Why are you afraid of him?"

  Either the question itself, or the tone in which it was asked, broughtthe 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 anxiousto avoid him as to seek refuge, on so shallow a pretext, in astranger's house?"

  The intruder bit his lip. His manner was sullen.

  "I regret that the circumstances which have brought me here are of sosingular and complicated a character as to prevent my giving you thefull explanation to which you may consider yourself entitled. Iam sorry that I should have sought refuge beneath your roof as Iown I did; and the more so as I am compelled to ask you anotherfavour--permission to leave that refuge by means of the back door."

  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. Thegirl's tone, face, bearing, were instinct with scorn.

  "Is there no means of getting away by the back without returning tothe front?"

  "Only by climbing a hedge and a fence on to the common."

  "Perhaps the feat will be within my powers--if you will allow me totry."

  "Allow you to try! And is it possible that you forced your way intothe house on the pretence of seeking lessons in music, when your realmotive was to seek an opportunity of evading pursuit by means of theback door?"

  "I am aware that the seeming anomaly of my conduct entitles you tothink the worst of me."

  "Seeming anomaly!" She laughed contemptuously. "Pray, sir, permit meto lead the way--to the back door."

  She strode off, with her head in the air; he came after, with a browas black as night. At the back door they paused.

  "I thank you for having afforded me shelter, and apologise for havingsought it."

  She looked him up and down, as if she were endeavouring, by mere forceof visual inspection, to make out what kind of a man he was.

  "I want to ask you a question. Answer it truthfully, if you can. Isthe 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, ifanything, the other way." What he meant to infer, she did 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 thethreshold and stood without. Malice--and something else--gleamed inher 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 onthe jar, remaining well in the shadow, she watched his proceedingsthrough the window.

  For a moment he stayed where she had left him standing, as if rootedto the spot. Then, with an exaggerated courtesy, taking off his hat,he bowed to the door. Turning, he marched down the garden path, histall figure seeming more gigantic than ever as she noted how straighthe held himself. In a twinkling he was over the fence and hedge. Onceon the other side, he shook his fist at Clover Cottage.

  The watcher in the kitchen clenched her teeth as she perceived thegesture.

  "Ungrateful creature! And to think that a man who has the very spiritof music in his soul, and who plays the piano like an angel, should besuch a wretch! That a monster seven feet high, who looks like acombination of Samson and Goliath rolled into one, should be such acoward and a cur--afraid of a pigmy five foot high! I hope I've seenthe last of him. If I have any more such pupils I shall have to shutup shop. Now perhaps I shall be allowed to post my MS. and run acrossto Brown's to get a chop for Ella's tea."

  With that she passed from the back to the front. Outside the frontdoor she paused to look around her and take her bearings, halfdoubtful as to whether any more dubious strangers might not be insight.

  The only person to be seen was the man whose presence had proved sodisconcerting to her recent visitor. He had reached the corner of thestreet, and, turning, strolled slowly back towards Clover Cottage. Hegave one quick, shifty glance at her as she came out, but beyond thathe 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 asif you were; he added that, if anything, you were rather the otherway. If, by that, he meant you were a thief, I'm free to admit youlook your profession to the life. I wonder if it would be safe to runacross to Brown's while you're about;--not that I'm afraid of you, asI'll prove to your entire satisfaction if you only let me have thechance. Only you seem to be one of those agreeable creatures who, ifthey are only sure that a house is empty, and there's not even a girlinside, can enact to perfection the part of area sneak; and neitherElla nor I wish to lose any of the few possessions which we have."

  While she hesitated a curious scene took place--a scene in which thegentleman on the prowl played a leading role.

  The road in which Clover Cottage stood was bisected on the right andleft by other streets, within a hundred yards of the house itself. Onreaching the corner of the street on the left, the gentleman on theprowl, as we have seen, had performed a right-about-face, and returnedto the cottage. As he advanced, a woman came round the corner of thestreet, upon the right. He saw her the instant she appeared, and thesight 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 theleft; and vanished out of sight. Having advanced to within a few feetof where Madge was standing, she was a close spectator of his singularbehaviour. As she looked to see what had been the exciting cause, halfexpecting that her recent visitor had come back and that the tableshad been turned, and the gentleman on the prowl had played the cowardin his turn, the woman who had come round the other corner had alreadyreached the cottage. Pushing the gate unceremoniously open, she strodestraight past Madge, and, without a with-your-leave or by-your-leave,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."