Tom Ossington's Ghost. Marsh Richard

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      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 complicated 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-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. 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 will 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."

      "Seeming anomaly!" She laughed contemptuously. "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 inspection, 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 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.

      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 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 profession 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 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 rôle.

      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 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-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."

      CHAPTER II

      THERE'S A CONSCIENCE!

      Madge had been taken so wholly unawares 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?"

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