Tom Ossington's Ghost

Richard Marsh

Description

Friends Ella and Madge have taken up residence in a long-deserted house that has a reputation for supernatural activity. After a series of strange run-ins with locals, the women are inclined to believe that the home may indeed be haunted. But is a ghost really the cause of their problems -- or is it something else entirely?

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776593057
• Langue: English

Extrait

TOM OSSINGTON'S GHOST
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RICHARD MARSH
 
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Tom Ossington's Ghost First published in 1898 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-305-7 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-306-4 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - A New Pupil Chapter II - There's a Conscience! Chapter III - Two Lone, Lorn Young Women Chapter IV - In the Dead of Night Chapter V - A Representative of Law and Order Chapter VI - The Long Arm of Coincidence Chapter VII - Bruce Graham's First Client Chapter VIII - Madge and the Panel Chapter IX - The Thing Which was Hidden Chapter X - Madge Finds Herself in an Awkward Situation Chapter XI - Under the Spell Chapter XII - Tom Ossington's Lawyer Chapter XIII - An Interrupted Treasure Hunt Chapter XIV - The Cause of the Interruption Chapter XV - The Companion of His Solitude Chapter XVI - Two Visitors Chapter XVII - The Key to the Puzzle Chapter XVIII - Madge Applies More Strength Chapter XIX - The Woman and the Man Chapter XX - The Fortune
Chapter I - A New Pupil
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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—unw