Tom Ossington's Ghost
that downstairs?"

"Speak!" exclaimed Madge, with a nearly simultaneous yell, "or I fire!"

And she did fire--though no one spoke; or, for the matter of that, had a chance of speaking; for the words and the shot came both together. What she fired at was not quite plain, since, if appearances could be trusted, the bullet lodged in the ceiling; for, at the same moment, a small shower of plaster came tumbling down.

"Madge!" cried Ella. "I believe you've sent the bullet right through the roof! How you frightened me!"

"It was rather a startler," admitted Madge, in whose voice there seemed a slight tendency to tremor. "I'd no idea it would make such a noise--the other revolver I fired didn't. Ella!--what are you doing?"

The question was induced by the fact that Ella had rushed to the landing window, thrown the sash up, thrust her head out, and was shouting as loudly as she could:

"Thieves! thieves!--help!"

Madge came up and put her head out beside her.

"Can you see him? Has he gone?"

"Of course he's gone--there he is, running down the road."

"Are you sure it's a man?"

"A man! It's a villain!--Help! thieves! help!"

"Don't make that noise. What's the use? No one can hear you, and it only gives him the impression that we're afraid of him, which we're not; as, if he comes back again, we'll show him. There's more bullets in this revolver than one--I remember Jack saying so; and I'm not forced to send them all through the roof."

Ella drew her head inside. There was colour in her cheeks, and fire in her eyes. Now that the immediate danger seemed past her humour was a ferocious one.

"I wish you'd shot him."

Madge was calmer, though still sufficiently sanguinary.

"Well--I couldn't very well shoot him if I never caught a glimpse of him, could I? But we'll do better next time."

Ella clenched her fists, and her teeth too.


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