"And I say you lie--you are afraid of me, penniless, shoeless, hungry beggar though I am. Your face betrays you; look at him! Isn't there cowardice writ large?" The man stretched out his arm, pointing to Graham with a dramatic gesture, which certainly did not tend to increase that gentleman's appearance of ease. "Do you think I didn't see you the other day, knowing that the time was due for me to come out of gaol, trying to screw your courage to the striking point to play the traitor; how at the sight of me the blood turned to water in your veins? Deny it--lie if you can." "I do not wish to deny it, nor do I propose to lie. I repeat, for the third time, that in the conclusions you draw you are mistaken. Miss Brodie, this is the person of whom I was telling you--Charles Ballingall." "So you have told them of me, have you? And a pretty yarn you've spun, I bet my boots. Yes, madam, I am Charles Ballingall, lately out of Wandsworth Prison, sent there for committing burglary at this very place. My God, yes! this house of haunting memories of a thousand ghosts! I only came out the day before yesterday, and that same night I committed burglary again--here! And now I'm at it for the third time, driven to it--by a ghost! And, my God! he's behind me now." A sudden curious change took place in the expression of the fellow's countenance. Partially withdrawing his head, he turned and looked behind him--as if constrained to the action against his will. His voice shrank to a hoarse whisper. "Is that you, Tom Ossington?" None replied. Madge moved forward, quite calm, and, in her own peculiar fashion, stately, though she was a little white about the lips, and there was an odd something in her eyes. "I think you had better come inside--and, if convenient, please moderate your language." At the sound of her voice the man turned again, and stared. "I beg your pardon. Were you speaking to me?" "I was, and am. Mr. Graham has spoken to me of you, and I am quite certain that in doing so he has told us nothing but the exact and literal truth. In the light of what he has said, I know that I am giving expression to our common feeling in saying that we shall feel obliged to you if you will come in." The man hesitated, fumbling with his hands, as if nonplussed. "It's a good many years since I was spoken to like that." "Possibly it's a good many years since you deserved to be spoken to like that. As a rule, that sort of speech is addressed to us to which we are entitled." "That's true. By God, it is!" "I believe I asked you to moderate your language." "I beg your pardon; but it's a habit--of some standing." "Then if that is the case, probably the time is come that it should die. Please let it die--if for this occasion only. Must I repeat my invitation, and press you to enter, in face of the eagerness to effect an entrance which it seems that you have already shown?" Mr. Ballingall continued to exhibit signs of indecision.