Tom Ossington's Ghost Part 13

"Yes, and then she came and told me----"

"Where was he all the time?"

"Wait a bit, and I'll tell you. Then we both of us heard him--then Madge fired----"

"Fired?--what?"

"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."

"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."

"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 convince 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 today----"

"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?"

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."

"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 inference, 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 const.i.tutional."

"Don't you see what the situation really is?"

"Well--pardon me--but--really, you are so warm. Miss Brodie. If this gentleman were to allow me to study this interesting doc.u.ment, 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!"