Chapter V: Part II (2)

Need I say that I was thankful to get to bed and there, despite my ghostly adventures, I slept very soundly till the gong went for breakfast, at which free and easy meal I made the acquaintance of some very charming guests.

Miladi was of course too much in request to spend more than a few minutes with poor, insignificant me; she expressed an earnest hope that I had not been too dull for words and that I had found the room warm and comfortable. “At all events,” she added, “you can sit and read there without fear of interruption. I know how fond of books you ‘clever’ people are--you must go into the library and choose some. You were not disturbed last night were you?”

Though this question was put in the most artless manner possible and with all apparent ingenuousness I detected a half frightened, half inquiring expression in her eyes that she vainly tried to stifle, an expression which converted the suspicion I had entertained into a conviction, a conviction that this woman was isolating me to serve some deep and subtle purpose.

I tried to get out of the lady’s-maid what this purpose might be, but if Webster knew she most certainly showed no signs of it, being doubtless as accomplished an actress as her mistress.

As one may readily conclude I looked forward to the evening with little equanimity, offering up fervent prayers for any incident that might add to the duration of dinner.

Now I hate grand dinners as a rule; their regality unnerves me; I am appalled at the number of people; at the dazzling display of plate, at the multiplicity of the courses (many of the dishes being unknown to me), at the ceaseless flow of conversation, at the clatter of glasses, at the wine, at everything; but on this occasion I simply revelled in it; the greatest formalities appealed to me as pleasantly distracting; I was poor, my companions wealthy scions of the aristocracy. I had nothing to do but eat--eat and be silent; be silent and listen; listen and look, and I saw all that one would have wanted to see in the atelier of the very best costumière in Paris or the West End.

My own dress was shabby but what of that! No one seemed aware of it, no one noticed me; I was a nonentity, mute, a consuming machine; in no one’s way because each of my neighbours was far too engrossed in eating to care about carrying on a conversation.

Once I thought a lady cast a half enviable glance at my hands; they are my best point, particularly so, when nicely manicured--and once I imagined, dear Robert, but there, THAT was only imagination.

Well the dinner, like all good things, came to an end at last. I enjoyed the dessert most; the bonbons were heavenly; every one ate them as if they were hungry; I caught myself actually pitying our hostess. At a signal from miladi, we all got up; I left the other ladies in the hall; they trooped away to fetch their purses, whilst I, feeling very much like some poor whipped schoolgirl, slunk off to the ball-room.

It was not until the door closed behind me, I understood the full horror of the situation; I was alone! for the second time within twenty-four hours--in that chamber--Alone! Alone save for those foul pollutions that might rise at any instant from beneath the floor. I believe, even then, I would have flown had not the stubbornness and pride innate in all my family restrained me. Come what would, her ladyship should never call me a coward.

So--I stuck to my post with heroic resolutions. Much as I suffered the previous day, my sufferings then in comparison with now were small, nor did the dreadful anticipations that tortured me without cessation as I sat there, waiting for the boards to part asunder, in any way surpass the awful realisation. Step by step, detail by detail the psychic drama was repeated in all its damnable horror; my recovery after witnessing it being slower on this occasion, accompanied by relapses into a state of terror too painful even to recall.

Yet I survived and succeeded in so far pulling myself together, that I met the kindly greeting of her ladyship at breakfast next morning with a calm and unembarrassed air. She did not suspect me. Once again the ordeal came and miladi, with a refinement of cruelty worthy of her steel-blue eyes and thin lips, herself conducted me to the fatal ball-room.

“To-morrow, you will have company,” she murmured, her face shining white amid that semi-gloom, “I must apologise for not giving you more light, but--for some UNEARTHLY reason or other--only one of those gas jets will ever burn. Odd is it not?” And as her eyes met mine, I walked to the fire and burst out laughing.

She was disarmed! Could any one laugh who was afraid of ghosts?

She speedily, VERY speedily left me and once again I underwent it ALL.

Suspense--horror--prostration. I think I suffered more this third night than on either of the other two.

Yet, long before morning I had recovered from the shock.

I saw a look of genuine relief rush into her ladyship’s face as she encountered my smiling countenance: whatever apprehensions she might have had with regard to THAT room were now unquestionably removed.

“It must be cleared out without further delay!” I heard her remark to Robert, “the floor will take some time polishing--and--remember the incandescent burners!”

The incandescent burners! I chuckled, what effect would THEY have on GHOSTS. I half expected she would now tell me why she had been anxious I should remain in the room: she was assured it was no longer haunted, why trouble about the past?

But a moment’s reflection made me think that after all it might be “the past” she was most anxious to conceal; hauntings, especially of so gruesome a nature as this, usually point to some blot on the escutcheon, to a disreputable something in the history of the house--and that is why so many people object to seeing their family ghosts appear in print.

Accordingly, miladi, having the honour of the Wentworths at heart, would take very good care she did not give me as much as a hint as to what she herself, quite possibly, attributed to legends.

Webster did indeed favour me with the information, that neither her ladyship nor any one else, save Lord Wentworth and the old charwoman (who dusted) were ever known to enter the room, at all events since SHE had been at the Hall, and that was well nigh ten years; which information clearly implied that entrance was strictly forbidden.

It was interesting to speculate what course miladi would have adopted, had I told her what I had seen! She was proud, domineering and tactful; would she have “pooh-poohed!” the whole thing; commanded me to be silent; resorted to bribery, or what? I couldn’t imagine her pleading--and yet--the Honour of the Old Aristocracy is very dear to them; they sometimes value it more than--life.

* * * * *

The next few days passed agreeably and all too quickly for me. The non-card playing element, though rather stiff and prudish, were kindly disposed towards me, no doubt on account of my shy disposition and impecunious widowhood.

Of Robert I saw very little; the host and hostess in a big house never have a moment to spare. To prepare the ball-room an extra staff of servants was employed incessantly for three days, at the end of which time it was pronounced ready for the occasion.

I can find no words to convey to others the singular way in which the altered room impressed me. Though stripped of all its massive, gloomy furniture, brilliantly illuminated with many jets of incandescent gas (Robert had a strange aversion to electricity) and adorned with festoons of Oriental flowers, banners, and the gayest coloured bunting, it still retained an air of sadness, and an indescribable something, that nothing, nothing short of total annihilation, could ever eradicate or modify.

Her ladyship clad in a snowy dress of the most costly material trimmed with the rarest lace, her fair arms and bosom glittering with the Wentworth diamonds, looked like a fairy queen standing on the threshold of an enchanted castle.

I looked closely at her but could see no remnant of apprehension either in her eyes or gestures, she was perfectly at ease and sublimely unconscious of aught but the enjoyment of those around her and the importance attached to herself, the well-dressed handsome hostess.

With Robert it was otherwise; in spite of his smiles, his bows, his many pretty actions of old-world gallantry, I could see that the wan, grey spirit of unrest stalking at his elbow never left him. He would have staked his soul to glance occasionally at the spot before the fireplace, but fear lest some one might see him effectually held him back. This continual mental struggle, unsuspected even by his wife, was only too obviously apparent to me, and I seemed to hear a sigh of relief--of deep and earnest relief--issue from his lips when the orchestra began.

And now all was symphony and movement. There was much glare and glitter and piquancy; snake-like evolutions, spasmodic convergences, dexterous extrications, all performed and repeated with mathematical precision and untiring repetition.

The music changed--the waltz gave place to a novel and somewhat wildly executed fandango. It was her ladyship’s whim to include in her programme exotic dances; a resuscitation of long-forgotten Terpsichore, they were undoubtedly the distinguishing and characteristic features of her entertainments, raising them far above the commonplace, and gaining for miladi a world-wide and much-coveted reputation. She hated anything merely popular and vulgar.

In this dance that now commenced and which I beheld for the first time, there was much of the beautiful, the wanton, the _bizarre_, and just a suspicion of “something” which might have shocked a very exacting “Grundy.”

As the greater number of the guests, like myself, were unacquainted with it, the floor was left comparatively free for the performers, the onlookers lining the walls, the doorway, and the big bay window.

Never had I witnessed such enthusiasm; the dancers, throwing their very heart and soul into their antics, gyrated and pirouetted in such lively fashion as evoked spontaneous outbursts of applause from the delighted, albeit bewildered and somewhat puzzled spectators.

The faster the music, the quicker the feet, the louder the clapping.

And now, at a moment when the revelry had reached its height and the attention of all was riveted on the dancers, a sudden commotion in their midst made everybody wonder. What was it? What had happened?

I glanced at the clock, Robert glanced too; our eyes met, and I read in his a deadly fear; it was the hour for the dead to rise.

The space in front of the fireplace was now deserted, and the dancers, grouped around on either side, were eagerly peering forward to ascertain the cause of their alarm.

Curiosity, repulsion, and horror--horror wild and undiluted--were now depicted on every countenance as the gently heaving boards, slipping noiselessly asunder, revealed two hideous heads, rising as it were from the bowels of the earth.

Slowly, very slowly, with a gradation suggestive of machinery, the phantoms I knew so well at length came into full view. But stupendous as was the sensation this unlooked-for tableau produced, not a sound was uttered--and, as if to accentuate the silence, the music broke off abruptly, dancers, audience, and orchestra being similarly affected.

For a few seconds the female phantom, clutching in one arm its loathsome burden, paused irresolutely beside its tomb--and then, shaking a hand in the direction of the Honourable Walter, it made a sudden dart at the spot where he stood.

A thrill of the most intense horror accompanied this unexpected movement, all eyes being now transferred to the wretched youth.

I gave one glance at my cousin Robert--I dare not look again--his expression was frightful--he could do nothing to help his son--his position was that of the damned.

The crucial moment arrived--no one breathed--the Things from the Grave reached Walter--there was no hesitation--they passed RIGHT THROUGH him. I looked at the wall, I rubbed my eyes--the spectres had vanished!

A convulsive throb now ran through the assemblage, the revellers exchanged frightened and embarrassed glances, there was a general movement to the door, the room emptied, the dance was over.

* * * * *

I did not see her ladyship again--I merely received a message of farewell, but Robert came to say good-bye.

“I wonder,” he said, gazing at me with his pensive harrowed eyes, “I wonder very much if the ghosts appeared to you when alone in that room? If so you have indeed been brave, and to keep it secret served us right. The story of the hauntings,” he continued, “has up to the present been revealed only to the male members of our family, but to you I feel that an explanation is due. At any rate, you are a Wentworth and have given me ample proof that you may with safety be entrusted with a secret.

“It seems years ago that one of my ancestors got entangled in some way or another with a beautiful gipsy. She begged him to marry her; he refused; and fearful lest the affair should leak out and so bring discredit upon the family, he murdered her, burying her body, together with that of her child, underneath the ballroom floor. At least so the MS. states, and no one, as far as I am aware, has ever disproved it.

“Tortured with remorse and a victim to the orthodox fears of a murderer, my unhappy forefather took poison, commanding in his will ‘that the ballroom should never again be used for a frivolous purpose,’ an injunction which, until last night, has been faithfully obeyed.

“The Wentworths, as you may naturally suppose, have kept the story strictly to themselves--the male heirs alone being usually acquainted with it.

“I did not altogether credit the story of the haunting though my father swore he had seen the cursed apparitions. Moreover he told me that they appeared periodically--every night at 11 P.M. from the 20th to the 31st of December. He also warned me, and here I am much to blame, on no account to permit any outsider to be in the room, ‘for if you do,’ he added, ‘THEN, something terrible will happen.’ I own I was sceptical and bitterly I regret it now. I had never seen an apparition, and what my father told me he had seen, I attributed to Suggestion, the natural consequence of dwelling too much on the horrible details of the story.

“Maud shared my scepticism and when she wanted to use the room, brought forward the most ingenious arguments to overcome my scruples.

“I declared it was impossible--it would be sheer sacrilege. I was accused of inconsistency. I disbelieved! how then could there be any danger!--the injunction in the will was unreasonable and absurd. In short, I had no peace, I had to yield, so making the stipulation that we should first find out some means by which we could prove that there was no foundation for the story of the haunting, I reluctantly gave my consent.

“Somewhat to my astonishment, Maud had already formed a plan for testing the room. She had heard me speak of you, you were a Wentworth; if you discovered anything we could rely on you to keep it secret--and so my wife suggested that you should be put in the room, ‘just to sample it.’ I hesitated, I did not speak. I suppose my silence gave consent: the rest you know. I won’t press you to tell me if you saw those beastly things, if you did the sequel only serves us right. Anyhow nothing can excuse my having sanctioned disobedience to that injunction in the will.

“The fact and the nature of the haunting is a secret no longer--the cause none but a Wentworth shall ever know.

“I need hardly enjoin you who are one of us to maintain silence on that point.

“We shall shut up the house for a time, until, in fact, the worst of the affair has blown over--and--when we meet again, let us hope it will be under happier circumstances.”

We never met again; within six months of my departure, both Robert and his son were dead--killed in a motor accident abroad. The property is now in the hands of distant, of VERY distant relations, and I feel no compunction in saying what I know about it.

Only--if you repeat this to Mr. Elliott O’Donnell, please substitute fictitious names.

BURLE FARM, NORTH DEVON

THE HEADLESS DOG AND THE EVIL TREE

Technical form of apparitions: Elemental

Source of authenticity: First-hand evidence

Cause of hauntings: Unknown

Between my exit from the stage in 1900 up till quite recently I had the great, the very great misfortune to be a teacher in a small town in the north of England.

I say misfortune because I found the contrasts between exciting stageland and the monotonous schoolroom, between the generous and jovial theatrical fraternity and the mean and petty local parents, too decidedly pronounced to be other than excessively unpleasant.

I had small patience with the mediocre abilities of very mediocre children, and still less with the continual and unwarrantable interference of their ill-mannered and doting mothers. No lot in life could have been more thoroughly uncongenial than mine; indeed, it would have soon become unbearable had it not been for the constant influx of strangers whose presence in the town made an oasis in the desert.

It is to one of these visitors--Miss Medley--that I owe the following story.

“Some years ago,” she began, “I received an invitation to spend August with a very crochety old aunt of mine residing at Burle Farm, North Devon.

“There was nothing at all extraordinary in the appearance of the house; it belonged to a type common in all parts of England. It was a low, rambling building of yellow stone with a good, substantial, thatched roof and ample stabling. The rooms, sweet with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle, compared more than favourably with the stuffy dens in which I had been obliged to live in London; whilst the diamond-shaped window-panes and massive oak beams serving as supports to the ceilings, struck me as being quite delightfully quaint.

“My aunt, too--a rosy-faced old lady in a mob-cap--appeared quite in harmony with her surroundings. She was kindness itself--indeed, no one could have made me feel more thoroughly at home.

“‘Folks do say the house is haunted,’ she laughed, ‘particularly one room--but there! I have never seen anything, and I don’t suppose you will.’

“‘A ghost!’ I cried, ‘how awfully exciting! oh! do let me sleep in the haunted room,’ and I continued to plead till the kind-hearted old lady reluctantly consented.

“‘You mustn’t blame me if the ghost should visit you, Rosie,’ she said; ‘remember I have warned you.’

“‘There is nothing I should enjoy better than seeing a real _bona-fide_ spook, auntie dear,’ I rejoined, smiling; but my aunt shook her head reprovingly, and no more was said on the subject until the next day.

“I awoke that night as the clock struck two--indeed, I fancied my awakening was due to that striking, it seemed so unusually loud and emphatic.

“It was a fine--indeed, I might say glorious--night, for although there was no moon, the heavens were so brilliantly illuminated with myriads of scintillating stars, that I could see every object around me almost as clearly as if it had been day.

“A sudden movement near the foot of the bed made me recollect my aunt’s admonition. I listened, experiencing none of those pleasant anticipations of which I had spoken so boastfully.

“I knew no one could have entered the room, as I had taken the precaution to lock the door, having first of all looked under the bed and made a thorough examination of the hanging wardrobe. Consequently my visitor, unless a mouse or a rat, could be nothing material.

“I devoutly wished I had slept in one of the other rooms.

“A faint and sickly odour now became perceptible whilst the noise hitherto uninterpretable developed into a series of unequal knocks just as if some big animal were lying on the floor ‘scratching’ itself.

“Determined not to appear frightened I put my hand out of bed and called ‘Trot! Trot! is that you?’ (Trot being the name of my auntie’s retriever.)

“Something instantly jumped up and, coming round the bed, stood by my side. Wondering whether it could be Trot, though at a loss to understand how he could have got into the room without being seen, I stretched out my fingers and to my intense relief touched a furry coat--the stench at the same time becoming so truly awful that I retched.

“I could, of course have satisfied myself as to the identity of my visitor by merely looking, but this, I am ashamed to say, I was too great a coward to do; a strange feeling telling me that I was in the presence of something unnatural.

“Running my hand fearfully along the shaggy skin of the animal, I felt for its head, discovering to my intense horror that it had none, the neck terminating in a wet mass of something soft and spongy.

“Unable to restrain myself any longer, I now looked, perceiving to my infinite terror a huge shock-haired spaniel, headless, and in the most abominable state of decomposition.

“I gazed at it for some seconds too appalled either to stir or utter a sound--this paralytic condition continuing till an abortive effort of the phantasm to jump on the bed loosened my tongue and I shrieked for help.

“The dog immediately vanished.

“My feelings had been, however, so outraged by what I had witnessed that nothing would have induced me to pass the remainder of the night in that room--my own idea was to get out of it with the utmost celerity.

“I did so--nor did I ever again--not even by daylight--venture to cross its threshold.

“My aunt, poor dear, was very much upset at the occurrence.

“She could not imagine how it was other people could see the ghost while she could not. And her scepticism was but natural; she was unable to grasp the idea that the psychic faculty is a gift, only granted to the few, and as rare as that either of music or painting.

“Other reasons for her incredulity in this particular occult manifestation lay in the enigmatical nature and purport of the phenomenon.

“In what category of ghosts would one classify a headless dog; Was it the spirit of a dog that had been decapitated on earth?

“She had never gathered from the Scriptures that beasts had souls--what then was this phantom of a dog?

“I suggested it might be a Poltergeist or Elemental, one of those purely bestial creations that for various reasons which you explained at your recent lecture--always haunt certain localities?”

“Yes!” I said, interrupting Miss Medley, “the sub-animal type of elemental is fairly common--if you refer to the June number 1908 of the magazine published by the Society for Psychical Research you will see an extremely well authenticated case of the haunting of a village by a white pig with an abnormally long snout and I could enumerate many other similar instances. But continue!”

“My aunt,” Miss Medley went on, “informed me that the house had once been occupied by a lady who had lived a very selfish--not to say sensual life. She had settled down at Burle, after having been divorced twice, and her weekly routine was one incessant whirl of pleasure.

“She died without the consolation of the Church, surrounded by a crowd of fawning money-hunters and over-gorged poodles, so that for this, as well as other reasons I think there may be an alternative solution to the haunting. Is it not possible that what I saw was actually the spirit of this worldly woman, which thoroughly brutalised by long indulgence in sensuality had gradually adapted that shape most befitting IT.”

“And the moral of that, Miss Medley,” I observed, “is--if you do not wish to become a beast do not live like one! Yes! there is much to be learned from a study of the different types of phantasms--more I believe than from any pulpit discourses. Is that your only psychic experience?”

Miss Medley shook her head. “No!” she said, “I had another very gruesome one at Burle. After the dog episode my aunt thought fit to warn me not to pass along a certain road after dusk. ‘There is an elm standing close to it,’ she said, ‘which the people about here declare to be haunted; as you have seen one ghost you may see another--so please be careful!’

“Now you might think that after such a disagreeable experience I would have followed my aunt’s advice, but curiosity getting the better of discretion I disobeyed her and, selecting a fine evening for the enterprise, set out to the tree.

“As it was two or three miles away, and I was dearly fond of riding, I hired a horse and going along at a jog-trot approached the forbidden spot at about eight o’clock.

“The lane in which the haunted elm stood was narrow, trees of all sorts and sizes lined it on either side, and the shadows, intensified by the thickness of the foliage overhead, almost obliterated the roadway.

“All was dark and silent. I no longer wondered at the villagers fighting shy of such a place; it looked a positive cock-pit of spookdom.

“At about twenty or so yards from the notorious elm my horse showed unmistakable signs of uneasiness, laying back its ears and shivering to such an extent that it was only by dint of alternate threats and caresses that I succeeded in urging it forward. Arriving at a spot level with the tree the animal shied, and had I not been a pretty good horse-woman I might have met with a nasty accident, but I stuck to my seat like a leech, and using my whip smartly drew in the reins. My horse fell back on its haunches; reared--plunged headlong forward--took the bit between its teeth and--we were off like the wind.

“Fortunately I was prepared; leaning back in my saddle I enjoyed rather than otherwise so mad a career. But my pleasure received a sudden check when I perceived, to my horror, the figure of a tall woman dressed in black striding along by the side of us and keeping pace with us without any apparent effort.

“Heaven alone knew where she came from unless from the tree; I fancied I had heard something drop from the branches at the moment my horse shied. As the woman was wearing a cloak drawn over her head, I could not see her face but from the grotesque outlines of her limbs and body, I concluded it must be unpleasantly bizarre.

“We kept together in this extraordinary fashion until we came in sight of Burle, when she quickened her steps, and tearing off the hood thrust her face upwards into mine.

“It was awful--utterly and inconceivably AWFUL--so awful that I felt the very marrow in my bones freeze with horror while my heart stood still.

“She had no hair; her head was round and shiny, whilst her face, yellow and swollen, was covered all over with circular black spots causing it to bear a striking resemblance to one of those old-fashioned carriage dogs!!! Her eyes were black and sinister; she had no nose, whilst her mouth was--horrid--the most horrid thing about her.

“With a diabolical grin she grabbed at my jacket and would, I believe, have torn me from my seat had we not at this moment, in the very nick of time, arrived within sight of the gates of Burle Farm.

“My aunt, with several other people, was awaiting me, and as with a desperate spurt I galloped up to them, the infernal hag let go her hold of my jacket, slackened her pace and vanished.”

CARNE HOUSE, NEAR NORTHAMPTON

THE MAN IN THE FLOWERY DRESSING-GOWN AND THE BLACK CAT

Technical form of apparitions: Phantoms of the dead and possibly
animal: Elemental.

Cause of haunting: Murder

Source of authenticity: First-hand evidence

Should any one wonder why I continually select Northamptonshire and Gloucestershire as the scenes of my ghost stories, let me hasten to explain that my reason is obvious enough--with both these counties I have had a lifelong intimacy and naturally have had more facilities and opportunities for collecting suitable material from them than from any other.

I have not the slightest doubt other counties can show equally long lists of haunted houses, only I have not found them so easy of access, moreover the genial nature of the inhabitants of Northamptonshire (especially) has attracted as well as aided me in my research, and although the burly Midland yeoman is inclined to scoff at things superphysical, his satire is not so objectionable as is that of the supercilious middle-class Londoner.

Again, Northamptonshire is very rich in well preserved old country mansions--I know of no other county where there are so many--and as most of these houses have at one time or another witnessed some grim tragedy, it is not surprising that they are now the scenes of occult manifestations.

Doubtless one would find similar phenomena in smaller habitations were the latter of the same early date, for crime was then just as prevalent among the poor as among the rich, but the inferior material with which cottages have been built causes their comparatively speaking early dissolution, and we rarely find a cottage now standing which was built more than a century ago.

From this it must not be deduced that hauntings are confined to old buildings nor that past crime alone begat ghosts; nothing of the sort, modern villas are frequently subjected to psychic phenomena whilst the phantoms of present-day suicides and murderers are decidedly as numerous as of yore.

But whereas in olden times, crime was fairly common in villages, it is now chiefly confined to towns, and the houses that have witnessed murders, &c., are not infrequently entirely demolished or made to undergo some very radical alterations--hence the ghosts disappear with their surroundings.

This more so, perhaps, in the provinces than in London, as there are too many crimes in the latter for any particular one to be remembered for any length of time, not long enough in fact to permanently damn the letting of a house.

The word ghost is very elastic, it may be used in reference to many different types of spirits, and is, in fact, only the designation for that genus of which the departed soul of man is but a species.

Now Northamptonshire is very rich in species; species of all kinds; spirits of men, of beasts, of vegetables! and species of elementals--elemental being in itself, a genus which includes many various types, too numerous indeed, for any attempt at classification in this work.

It is no uncommon thing to meet with some locality (usually barren) or village (generally on the site of barrows or Druidical remains as, for example, Guilsborough) where the nature of the hauntings is dual; a complexity that is, fortunately, of rarer occurrence in houses.

Concerning the latter, Lee mentions one instance, _i.e._, “The Gybe Farm,” in his book, “More Glimpses of the Unseen World” whilst I will take this opportunity to quote another case of dual haunting, _i.e._, Carne House, which is situated at the utmost extremity of a village to the south-east of Northampton.

My informant, Mrs. Norton, frequently resided in the house in her childhood and youth, and it was from her lips that I heard the following story which I recollect only too well.

* * * * *

My first impression of Carne House was one of extreme aversion; I can see it now as I saw it then--vast, sleek, and white, like some monstrous toadstool, or slimy fungus.

Bathed in the moonlight--for we did not arrive till late--it confronted us with audacious nudity; not a plant or shrub being trained to hide its naked sides. There was something unspeakably loathsome in the boldness of its carriage--something that made me glance with fear at its wide and gaping windows and glance again as I crossed the threshold into the dark and lofty hall.

The passages of the house, both in number and sinuosity, resembled a maze; they recalled to my youthful mind the story of Dædalus, and I half expected to see the figure of the Minotaur suddenly arise from some gloomy corner and pursue me through the labyrinth.

Nor were my fears entirely groundless, for I had hardly been in the place a month before I had a very unpleasant experience.

Chancing one morning to go on an errand for my mother to a room that had in all probability once served as a laundry, but which was now restricted to lumber, I was startled at hearing something move either in or on the copper. Thinking it must be some stray animal, or, may be, a rat, I threaded my way through a sea of packing cases, and standing on tip-toe, peeped very cautiously into the copper.

To my intense surprise I found myself looking into a very deep and sepulchral well, at the bottom of which was a man. I could see him distinctly, owing to a queer kind of light that seemed to emanate from every part of his body. He was draped in a phantastic costume that might have been a kimono or one of those flowery dressing-gowns worn by our great-great-grandfathers. He was bending over a box which he was doing his best to conceal under a pile of _débris_, and it was undoubtedly this noise that had attracted me.

Too intent on his work, he was apparently unaware of my close proximity, until, satisfied that the box was well hidden, he straightened his back and looked up.

His face frightened me; not that it was anything out of the normal either in feature or complexion, but it was the expression--the look of evil joy that suffused every lineament before he saw me, changing to one of the most diabolical fury as our eyes met. I was at first too transfixed with terror to do more than stare, and it was only when, crouching down, he took a sudden and deliberate spring at the wall and began to climb it like a spider, that I regained possession of my limbs, and turning round, fled for my life.

Oh! how long that room seemed and what an interminable succession of furniture now appeared to barricade the way.

Every yard was a mile, every instant I expected he would clutch me.

I reached the door only just in time--happily for me it was open--I darted out, and as I did so the outlines of a hand--large and ill-shapen--shot fruitlessly past me.

The next moment I was in the kitchen--the servants were there--I was saved--saved from a fate that would assuredly have sent me mad.

When I related what had happened, to my mother, she laughingly informed me I must have been dreaming, that there was NO WELL there, nor was there any man in the house save my father and the servants; yet I fancied I could detect beneath those smiling assurances a faint and scarcely perceptible horror--and she never let me visit that room again--alone!

But was I dreaming--was there no well, and had that man been but the fancy of a childish and distorted brain?

Sometimes I answered “Yes,” and sometimes “No.”

After this little incident, a manifest, though of necessity, subtle change took place in our household; the servants became infected with a general spirit of uneasiness, which although only shown in my presence by their looks, convinced and alarmed me far more than any fears, even the most terrible, would have done had they been outspoken. I was positive they lived in daily anticipation of something very dreadful--something that lay concealed in those dark and tortuous corridors or in that grim and ghostly room.

My dreams at night were horrible, nor did I again feel that in this respect I was singular as I overheard some one remark that no one ever passed the night without awakening with a sudden and inexplicable start.

I say inexplicable--would that it had always remained so!

It was August when my next definite adventure occurred. I use the word definite as I had had several other experiences, but of too brief and uncertain a nature to enable me to draw any precise conclusions.

Once, as I had been walking along one of the passages, I had heard the noise of something clanking, and had been put to instant flight by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing suddenly in my rear, and again--but this isn’t really worth recording; let me proceed with that night in August.

Well, I slept in a room at the end of a corridor, my nearest neighbour, Miss Dovecot our governess, occupying a chamber some dozen yards away. I do not think I need describe any article of furniture the room contained; every piece was strictly modern, and had been brought with us from a newly furnished house in Sevenoaks. The fireplace and cupboard are, however, deserving of comment; the former was one of those old-fashioned ingles Burns delights in describing, and which are now so seldom to be seen; an inn at Dundry, near Bristol, containing, I believe, the finest specimen in the kingdom; whilst the latter, which I always kept securely locked at night, was of such far-reaching dimensions that it might well be termed in modern phraseology a linen room.

On the night in question, I had gone to bed at my usual time--eight--and I had speedily fallen to sleep, as I was in the habit of doing; but my slumber was by no means normal.

I was tortured with a series of disturbing dreams, from which I awoke with a start to hear some clock outside sonorously strike twelve. As an additional proof of my wakefulness, I might add (pardon my explicitness) I was sensibly affected by a constant irritation of the skin, due, I believe, to a disordered state of the liver, which in itself was a sufficient preventive to further sleep.

It must have been half-past twelve when I heard, to my intense horror, the cupboard door--which I distinctly recollect locking--slowly, very slowly, open.

My first impulse was to make a precipitate rush for the door, but, alas! I soon became aware that I was powerless to act; a kind of catalepsy, coming on suddenly, held my body as in a vice, whilst my senses, on the other hand, had grown abnormally acute.

In this odious condition I was now compelled to listen to the Thing--whatever it might be--slowly crossing the floor in the direction of my bed.

The climax at length came, and my cup of horrors overflowed, when, with an abruptness that was quite unexpected (in spite of the direst apprehension), the Thing leaped on the bed, and I discovered it to be an enormous CAT.

I can unhesitatingly add the epithet--Black--for the room, which a moment before was shrouded in darkness, had now become a blaze of light, enabling me to perceive the colour as well as the outline with the most unpleasant perspicuity.

It was not only in intensity of colour (the blackest ebony could not have been blacker) that the cat was abnormal, but in every other respect; its dimensions were not far removed from those of a large bull-dog, and its expression--the eyes and mouth of the beast were more than bestial--was truly Satanic. Stalking over my legs, its tail almost perpendicular and swaying slightly like the nodding plumes of a hearse, it squatted down between the bedposts opposite, transfixing me with a stare full of malevolent meaning.

I was so fully occupied in watching it and trying to solve the enigma I saw so plainly written in its every gesture, that I did not realise I had other visitors, till a sudden uncertain twitching in the light made me look round. I then perceived with a start a fire was burning in the grate.

A fire, and in August--how incongruous! I shivered.

But it was no delusion; the flames soared aloft, adopting a hundred fantastic yet natural shapes; the coals burned hollow, and in their crimson and innermost recesses I read the future.

But not for long. My cogitations were unceremoniously interrupted by the appearance of the man-in-the-well, whom I was startled to perceive seated in the chimney-corner in the most nonchalant attitude possible--nursing a baby!

Anomalous and mirth-provoking as is such a sight in the usual way, the existing circumstances were grim enough to excite my horror and raise anew my worst forebodings.

Supposing he saw me now? There was no escape! I was entirely at his mercy. What would he do?

I glanced from him to the cat, and from the cat back again to him. Of my two enemies, which was most to be feared? The slightest movement on my part would inevitably arouse them both, and bring about my immediate destruction. The situation did not even warrant my breathing.

The minutes sped by with the most tantalising slowness. The clock struck one, and neither of my visitors had budged an inch--the man in the flowery dressing-gown still nursing the baby, and the black cat still staring at me. Mine was indeed a most unenviable position, and I was despairing of its ever being otherwise, when a sudden transmutation in the man sent a flow of icy blood to my heart.

He no longer regarded his burden indifferently--he scowled at it.

The scowl deepened, the utmost fury pervaded his features, converting them into those of a demon. He got up, gnashed his teeth, stamped on the ground, and lifting up the child, dropped it head first into the fire. I saw it fall. I heard it burn!

The hideous cruelty of the man, the abruptness of his action, proved my undoing. Oblivious of personal danger, I shrieked.

The effect was electrical. Dropping the poker, with which he had been holding down the baby, the inhuman monster swung round and saw me.

The expression in his face at once became hellish, absolutely hellish.

My only chance of salvation now lay in making the greatest noise possible, and I had commenced to shout for help lustily, when at a signal from the man, the enormous black cat crouched and sprang.

What followed I cannot exactly remember, I have dim recollections of feeling a heavy thud and of some one or some THING trying to tear away the clothes from my head, after which there came a very complete blank, and when I recovered consciousness, the anxious countenances of my parents and governess were bending over me.

The next night I slept with my sister.

My health had been so impaired by these encounters, that my parents decided to move elsewhere; the furniture was once again packed, and within a month of the above incident we had taken up our abode in Clifton, Bristol.

The history of the hauntings was subsequently revealed to me by the owner of the house. It had once been inhabited by a man of the name of Darby, who seems to have been a sort of wholesale butcher.

His elder brother dying, the family estate passed to the latter’s eldest son, a child of two, and Darby determining to succeed to the property, invited the widow to stay with him. She did so--she was a weakly creature--and he got rid of her by putting her to sleep in a damp bed. The children were next disposed of, the younger by being burnt (as I had witnessed) and the elder, aged two, by being smothered to death by a black cat. Darby is said to have deliberately made the cat sit upon the infant’s mouth as it lay asleep. But these rapid deaths, as might have been expected, aroused suspicions. The nurse, who had been an unwilling party to the burning of the baby, turned King’s Evidence, and a warrant for his arrest was issued. As is often the case, however, the officers of the law were a bit too late. When they arrived at the house, the quarry had flown, nor could his whereabouts be discovered for many years; not, indeed, till fifty years after the crimes, when his skeleton was found at the bottom of a disused well he had himself sunk in one of the back kitchens. Under the skeleton lay an iron box containing many valuables, rings, &c., which he had been doubtless striving to hide when death in some unaccountable form or another overtook him. What became of the cat, history does not say.

The place had always borne a reputation for being haunted--it was on that account my parents had got it at so low a rental--and the ghosts seen there (undoubtedly those of Darby and his cat) corresponded in every detail with the phenomena that had so terrified me.

I am aware that many deny the existence of souls in animals--let them do so--but do not let them be too dogmatical, for where Life ends all is mystery.

Still there is an alternative theory to account for the appearance of animal phantoms, which is, I think, quite within the realms of possibility: the black cat I saw, if not the spirit of the one made such hideous use of by the old man, was undoubtedly an elemental--a spirit representative of a popular crime, a vice--Darby’s evil genius--that ever hovered at his heels in his lifetime and is more loth than ever to leave him now that his physical body is dead and his soul earthbound.

HARLEY HOUSE, PORTISHEAD

THE BLACK ANTENNÆ

Technical form of apparitions: Poltergeists (or Elementals)

Source of authenticity: First-hand evidence

Cause of hauntings: Unknown

The following account of a haunted house is taken from the diary of a gentleman--since deceased. The narrator was the owner of the house, and, being a professional man, asked me to give fictitious names, lest the publication of the story should be detrimental both to his practice and to the letting of the place:

“Before I commence my story,” he writes, “I think it expedient to state that both my parents are dead, my father having died many years ago and my mother quite recently. The latter had lived to the very ripe age of ninety, had possessed an unusually strong will, was a most devout Roman Catholic, and took the deepest interest in everything that concerned our welfare. She had two peculiarities: (1) A strange aversion to children; (2) a positive loathing and dread of blackbeetles. The house stands alone, some thirty yards or so from the road, and is well concealed from view by a high brick wall and numerous trees.

“There are four bedrooms upstairs, two on either side of the landing--which for clearness I will number--viz., No. 1 occupied by my wife and I; No. 2 my sister Mary’s room; No. 3 my sister Joan’s room; No. 4 the spare bedroom in which my mother died. The top storey consists of two attics inhabited by the servants.

“January 1, 1906, we first became aware of the disturbances--violent knockings being heard about midnight on the walls and floor of room No. 4. On hurriedly entering it, we could discover nothing. But on leaving the room the noises were repeated and kept up till two or three in the morning.

“January 5. A recurrence of the disturbance--only much louder.

“January 6. Have in a carpenter who makes a thorough examination of the wainscoting and reports ‘no traces of rats, mice nor any other animals.’

“January 10. Tremendous knockings again in room No. 4, the door of which is swinging to and fro violently. A loud clatter on landing as though half a dozen children were engaged in the roughest horse-play. The uproar terminates in a terrific crash on the panel of No. 3 door. Joan rushes out of her bedroom thinking the house is on fire and sees a strange, green light some six by two feet long moving across the landing. It disappears in room No. 4.

“January 15. We are all awakened by a loud crash and on reaching the landing find a big, black oak chest from the coach-house, lying there on its back. Every one much alarmed.

“February 1. My sister Mary awakened at midnight by feeling something tickle her cheeks. She puts out her hand to brush it away and encounters something cold and scaly. Her shrieks of terror bring us all into her bedroom--there is nothing there.

“February 3. My wife and I are aroused by feeling our bed gently lifted up and down, and on my getting out for a light, I tread on something indescribably disgusting. It feels like a monstrous insect!!

“February 4. The knocking very bad all night--particularly in room No. 4.

“February 5, 6, 7, ditto.

“February 10. The clothes mysteriously taken off Joan’s bed and transported to room No. 2.

“February 15. Both servants undergo our experience of February 3.

“February 16. The knockings still continued and distant sounds heard as of some one coming upstairs and turning the handles of all the room doors.

“February 17. Scufflings on the landings, and in the passage as though caused by a troop of very noisy children.

“February 19. Knockings in room No. 2. The washstand and a heavy mahogany wardrobe moved some feet out of their places. Mary, who was awake at the time, saw the shunting of the furniture, but could detect no sign of any agent.

“March 1. About 8.30 A.M. after Martha had laid the breakfast things she went downstairs to finish a cup of tea. On her return to the breakfast room she found it in the wildest state of disorder; chairs over-turned, ashpan and front of grate removed to furthest extremity of room, all the pictures taken down from the walls and laid face upwards on the floor, and the cups, saucers, plates, knives and forks piled in one heap in centre of table; all this had been done without either breakage or noise.

“Terrified out of her wits Martha rushed upstairs to our door, and nothing would induce her to enter the breakfast room again alone.

“March 3. On returning home about 10 P.M. from a neighbouring town, we found the servants sitting huddled together, half dead with fright in the kitchen. They had heard knockings and the most appalling thuds ever since we had gone out; and on entering our room (No. 1) we found it in an absolute turmoil: the bed-clothes in a promiscuous pile on the floor, the duchess table turned round with its face to the wall, the pictures ditto--but--nothing broken.

“March 15. Awakened in middle of night by three loud crashes in room No. 3, after which we distinctly heard our door open and some one crawl stealthily under our bed.

“We at once lit a candle--no one was there.

“March 18. Knockings in both the attics. The servants badly scared.

“March 21. As Joan was running downstairs about mid-day, she received a violent bang on her back as if some one had hit her with the palm of their hand. She came to my study in a very exhausted condition, and it took her some minutes to recover.

“March 24. Found my mother’s shoes, which we were certain had been locked up in a bureau, placed where she had always placed them in her lifetime--_i.e._, on the hearth-rug before the dining-room fire.

“March 31. My mother’s favourite arm-chair found upside down in front of the fire-place in room No. 4.

“April 2, 11 P.M. As Mary was stooping to look under the bed for fear of burglars, she was suddenly pushed down and the mattresses and bedclothes were thrown on the top of her. Her frantic struggles and muffled screams being, fortunately, overheard by my wife (I was in London at the time), she was immediately extricated. No injury, only bad shock.

“April 3, midnight. The contents of a large chest of drawers in room No. 3 suddenly emptied on to the floor. Loud crashes in all parts of the house.

“April 10, 11 P.M. On going up to bed, we find room No. 4 aglow with a pale green light and filled with a faint sickly odour, which we at once recognised as identical with that smelt there at the time of my mother’s decease and which we considered was peculiar to her disease.

“I must mention that after her death, the room had been thoroughly renovated, the old flooring replaced by new, the walls repapered and everywhere well disinfected with the strongest carbolic. My mother had died at 11 P.M.

“April 12, 13, 14, 15; 11 P.M. The same light and smell.

“April 20. Joan fell over some large obstacle in the hall, hurting herself badly. She could see nothing, but was half suffocated with a stench similar to the one already described.

“April 30, 2.20 A.M. Both my wife and I distinctly felt something brush across our faces. We lit a candle and perceived to our horror two long black antennæ (like the antennæ of a monstrous beetle) waving to and fro on our pillow.

“We spent the rest of the night on the drawing-room chairs and sofa.

“May 1. Shut up the house.”