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Tom Ossington's Ghost (Horror Thriller)
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A best-selling and prolific author of the late 19th century and the Edwardian period, Marsh is best known now for his supernatural thriller novel The Beetle, which was published the same year as Bram Stoker's Dracula , and was initially even more popular. The Beetle remained in print until Marsh produced nearly 80 volumes of fiction and numerous short stories, in genres including horror, crime, romance and humour. Many of these have been republished recently, beginning with The Beetle in Add to Cart.
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Address Address is required. Phone Number. We advertised also for information as to the whereabouts of any property of which he might have died possessed — such as title-deeds, and anything of that kind. You understand that there is a delicate question as to who is entitled to collect the rents of other properties which we believe to have been his freehold. But nothing came of that. Clover Cottage we placed in the hands of Messrs. Parker and Beading, but only recently have they succeeded in letting it — I believe to two single ladies.
Graham, do go on. My curiosity is such that I feel as if I were all pins and needles. He put his hands into his two pockets, and he looked at me out of the corners of his eyes. I saw that he meant to understand more clearly where we stood before he went any further. As yet it still remains to be found. I must ask you not, at this moment, to press me for further details, and of course you, on your part, are entitled to keep your theory to yourself. But I know your father was an honest man, and as it happens, I know something about you, and I believe you also are an honest man. In particular he was secretive, especially latterly, as perhaps was only natural.
My theory is that, distrusting banks and all such human institutions, he secreted his cash, his title deeds, and everything he valued, in some hiding-place of his own contriving, and that there it remains concealed unto this hour. Will you let the gentleman go on?
I knew the man. The salient events of his life happened there. In his whimsical way he regarded it as part and parcel of himself. I have heard him say so half a dozen times. His heart was in the place. Whatever he did conceal, was concealed within its four walls. Before the furniture was sold, I had it overhauled by an expert — some of the things were pulled to pieces. His verdict was that nothing was hidden there.
Tom Ossington's Ghost, by Richard Marsh
Had I had my way I would have dismantled the whole house — only Hawkins was against me. He said very properly, that if the heir-at-law proved cantankerous, I might be made to smart in damages to the tune of a pretty penny. So I abstained. It does nothing of the kind. Not after what I found in this very room last night.
When will my book be dispatched from your warehouse?
In the face of that, I care nothing for Mr. Nicholls, or for his threats either. What do you think yourself, Mr. Nicholls and myself. Indeed, I am now coming to that very point. I never saw anything like you women for interrupting — never in all my life. Do you know any one of the name of Edward John Hurley? Nicholls touched a bell, and presently Mr.
Hurley entered. I felt that his presence on the spot was a stroke of luck for which I had certainly been unprepared. He was a tall, thin, dignified looking man, with grey hair. He wore spectacles. Taking them off, he wiped them with his handkerchief before he replaced them on his nose to look at me. Do you remember witnessing Mr. Nicholls and he had exchanged glances when I first put my query. Now he looked at his principal evidently in search of guidance. I chanced to meet Mr. Ossington in Holborn as I was leaving the office.
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He asked me if I would dine with him in his house at Wandsworth. I went with him to dinner there and then. After dinner he asked me if I would witness his signature. I expressed my willingness. I witnessed it. I have often wondered what it was, especially in the light of after events. The document, which was on a sheet of blue foolscap, had evidently been prepared before my arrival: Mr.
Ossington, covering the writing with a piece of blotting-paper, signed it, in the middle of the page, directly underneath, while I affixed my signature, as witness, on the left-hand side. I only know that he called her Louisa. I think I should recognise her if I saw her again. She was a red-faced, light-haired, strapping wench, about eighteen years of age. As you are evidently aware that such a paper existed once upon a time, you are probably acquainted with its present whereabouts? It will be produced in due course. When, I promise you, you will see as curious a document as is to be found upon the records.
But I was not to be persuaded.