"He was a man about forty years of age; he claimed to be only thirty-six. If that was the fact, then the life he had been living, and the injuries he had recently received, made him look considerably older. His name, he said, was Charles Ballingall. By trade he was a public-house broker; once, and that not so long ago, in a very fair way of business. He had had a lifelong friend--I am telling you the story, you understand, exactly as he told it me--named Ossington--Thomas Ossington. Ballingall always spoke of him as Tom Ossington." Ellen looked at Madge. "Madge!" she exclaimed, "how about Tom Ossington's Ghost?" "I know." Madge sat listening with compressed lips and flashing eyes; that was all she vouchsafed to reply. Mr. Graham glanced in her direction as he went on. "According to Ballingall's story, Ossington must have been a man of some eccentricity. He was possessed of considerable means--according to Ballingall, of large fortune. But his whole existence had been embittered by the fact that he suffered from some physical malformation. For one thing, he had a lame foot----" "I know that he was lame." This was Madge; all eyes stared at her. "You knew? How did you know?" "Because she told me." Ella's eyes opened wider. "She told you? Who?" "The ghost's wife." "The ghost's wife!" "Yes, the ghost's wife. But never mind about that now. Mr. Graham will perhaps go on." And Mr. Graham went on. "This had preyed upon his spirits his whole life long; and, as his unwillingness to show himself among his fellows increased, it had made of him almost a recluse. He was, however, as it seemed, a man of strong affections, tender heart, and simple disposition. In these respects Ballingall could not speak of him with sufficient warmth. There never had been, he declared, a man like Tom. There was nothing he would not do for a friend--self-abnegation was the passion of his life. Ballingall owned that he owed everything to Ossington. Ossington had set him up in business, had helped him in a hundred ways. In return he (Ballingall) had rewarded him with the most hideous ingratitude. This part of the story was accompanied by such a strong exhibition of remorse that I, for one, found it difficult not to believe in the fellow's genuineness.