still in its infancy. But, even so far as it had gone, it seemed to
suggest the possibility of what has come to be called telepathic
communication between two minds--even when the whilom owner of one of
the minds has passed beyond the confines of the grave. This sounded a
trifle abstruse. But as the doctor professed his inability to put it
any clearer, they had to take his statement as it stood, and make out
just as much of it as they were able.

As for Ballingall's pretensions to having shared the woman's
hallucination--if hallucination it was--the doctor pooh-poohed them
altogether. The man was as mad as the woman, and madder; and an
impudent rogue to boot. Where was he? Let him come forward, and allow
himself and his statements to be scientifically tested. Then it would
be shown what reliance could be placed on anything which he might say.

But where Ballingall was, was exactly the problem which they found
insoluble. He had vanished as completely as if he had never existed.
The presumption was, that while they had been absorbed in watching
Madge's efforts to carry on the work of discovery from the point at
which the woman had left it, he had sneaked, unnoticed, from the room
and from the house. The curious feature was that they were unable to
agree as to the exact moment at which he could have gone. Bruce Graham
declared that he was in the room when he went to fetch the hammer and
chisel, and that he was still there when he returned. Madge protested
that he was in the room when she ran across to the recumbent figure on
Ella's bed. If so, since Jack discovered his absence within less than
a minute afterwards, it was during that scant sixty seconds that he
made good his escape.

Why he had gone at all was difficult to say. One might have thought
that after what he had undergone during his search for the fortune he
would hardly have disappeared at the moment of its finding. He had
suffered so much in looking, that he had earned at least a share, when
at last it was brought to light. Such, certainly, was the strong
feeling of its actual discoverer. He stood in need enough of money;
that was sure. Why then, at what from one point of view might be
described as the very moment of his triumph, had he vanished?

He alone could tell.

They could only give wild guesses. Nothing has been seen or heard of
him from that hour to this. They put advertisements for him in the
papers, without result. Then, as they felt that living the sort of
life which he probably was living--that is, if he was living at
all--it was within the range of probability that a newspaper would
never come his way, and that he would never glance at it if it did,
they distributed handbills broadcast through the slums of London,
beseeching him to apply to a certain address, and offering a reward to
any one who could give an account of his proceedings after the night
on which he had taken himself away.

To those handbills they did receive answers--in abundance. There were
evidently plenty of people who were willing, nay, anxious, to lay
their hands on that reward, just as there seemed several Charles
Ballingalls with whom they were acquainted. But no one of them was the
Charles Ballingall. More than once they thought they had chanced on
him at last; the stories told were such very specious ones, and they
followed up the trail till it proved beyond all manner of doubt to be
a false one. When the Charles Ballingall to whom it referred was
unearthed, he proved, in each and every case, to be not in the least
like theirs.

And so the presumption is that the man is dead. He was, probably, as
the doctor suggested, more than half out of his mind on that eventful
night; his sins had brought him suffering enough to have driven the
average mortal mad. It is not unlikely that the strange things which
then transpired, completing the work of destruction, robbed him of his
few remaining senses; and that, at that last moment, when Madge Brodie
announced her discovery of what he had sought with so much pain and
with such ardour, the irony of fate which seemed to have pursued him,
pressing on him still, had driven him out into the night, a raving
lunatic, seeking anywhere and anyhow for escape from the burden of
life which haunted him.

God alone can tell where and how he found it.

                              CHAPTER XX

                             THE FORTUNE

And the fortune?

This remark may be made--that had they not found it when they did
there would very shortly have been nothing left to find. Mr. Thomas
Ossington had chosen for the treasure-chest a simple opening in the
wall, to which access had originally been gained by touching a spring.
This spring had been concealed under what had probably been a picture
of a dog's head; the fifth alternating dog's head on the right-hand
side of the bedroom door. When you pressed it a door flew open. But
this primitive treasure-chest, if not entirely obvious to the world at
large, was open to the rats and mice, and similar small deer, who had
their happy hunting-grounds within the wall itself. The result was
that, when the contents were examined, it was found that the bundles
of bank-notes had been gnawed, in some cases to unrecognisable shreds;
that meals--hearty ones of the cut-and-come-again description--had
been made of parchment deeds, bonds, share certificates, and similar
impediments; that coin--gold coin--had been contained in bags, which
bags had been consumed, even to the strings which once had tied them.
The coins lay under accumulations of dust, in heaps upon the floor. On
several were actually well-marked indentations, showing that sharp,
gleaming teeth had applied to them a stringent test before finally
deciding that they really were not good to eat. A curious spectacle
the whole presented when first brought to the light of day.

However, in but few cases had the damage proceeded to lengths which
had rendered what was left absolutely worthless--discovery had come
just in the nick of time. The Bank of England was good enough to hand
over cash in exchange for the fragments of all notes of which there
was satisfactory evidence that there had been once a whole. The
various documents which represented property were none of them in a
condition which rendered recognition altogether impossible, and when
it was once established what they were, for all intents and purposes
they were as available for their original use as if they had been in a
condition of pristine freshness.

Altogether the find represented a sum of something like £40,000. Not a
large fortune, as fortunes go, but still a comfortable capital to be
the possessor of. If fate only had been kind to him, and the men and
women who formed his world of finer texture, Tom Ossington might have
been as happy as the days were long.

Oddly enough, the real trouble came after the fortune was found. The
difficulty was as to whom it belonged--not because the claimants were
so many, but because they were so few.

It was Madge's wish that it should be divided between those who were
actually present at the moment of its discovery, maintaining that such
a division would be in accordance with both law and equity.
Ballingall's continued disappearance resolved the number of these into
four--Ella, Jack Martyn, Bruce Graham, and herself. The first rift in
the lute was caused by Mr. Graham, he refusing point-blank to have
part or parcel in any such transaction. He maintained that the fortune
had been found by Madge, and that therefore, in accordance with the
terms of the will, the whole of it was hers. In any case he would have
none of it. He had felt, on mature reflection, that Ballingall's
accusations had not been without foundation, that his conduct had been
unprofessional, that he had had no right to share his confidence with
anybody--that, in short, he had behaved ill in the whole affair; and
that, therefore, he had no option but to decline to avail himself of
any advantages which were, so to speak, the proceeds of his
misbehaviour.

When she heard this, Madge laughed outright. Seeing that her laughter
made no impression, and that the gentleman continued of the same
opinion still, she was moved to use language which was, to say the
least, surprising. It was plain that, beneath the lash of the lady's
tongue, he was unhappy. But his unhappiness did not go deep enough to
induce him to change his mind. When it was obvious that his resolve
was adamant, and that by no means could he be induced to move from it,
she announced her own decision.

"Very well; if the fortune's mine, it's mine. And if it's mine I can
do what I like with it. And what I like, is to divide it with Ella;
and if Ella will not have half, then I'll not have a farthing either.
And the whole shall go to the Queen, or to whoever unclaimed money
does go. And you'll find that I can be as firm--or as obstinate--as
anybody else."

"But, my dear," observed Ella, mildly, "I never said that I wouldn't
have half. I'm sure I'll be delighted. I'll need no pressing--and
thank you very kindly, ma'am."

"I do believe, Ella," returned Madge, with calmness which was both
significant and deadly, "that you are the only reasonable person with
whom I am acquainted."

So it was arranged--the two girls divided the whole; which of course
meant, as Madge knew perfectly, that Jack Martyn would have his share.
As a matter of fact, Mr. and Mrs. Martyn have been husband and wife
for some time now, and are doing very well.

And it is said--as such things are said--that Madge Brodie will be
Mrs. Bruce Graham yet before she dies. It is believed by those who
know them best that he would give his eyes to marry her, and that she
has made up her mind to marry him.

This being so, it would seem as if a marriage might ensue.

If such is the case, it appears extremely likely, if Madge ever is his
wife, that, whether he will or won't, Bruce Graham will have to have
his share.

She is as obstinate as he is--every whit.

                          The Gresham Press
                           UNWIN BROTHERS,
                          WOKING AND LONDON.