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 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.

CHAPTER XII

TOM OSSINGTON'S LAWYER

It 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 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 who pictures the materialisation 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 introduced myself to Mr. Nicholls as my father's son, 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 Wandsworth,' I began, 'inform me that in letting Clover Cottage they are instructed by you. May I ask who is the owner of the property?'

"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 corner; because, as a matter of fact, so far as we are concerned, there is no owner.'

"'The late Thomas Ossington died intestate!'

"'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 confess, 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 awkward 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 paralysis 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?'