"I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,I call the earth and sea, half hid by the night.Press close magnetic, nourishing night,Night of the South wind, night of the large, few stars."
"I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,I call the earth and sea, half hid by the night.Press close magnetic, nourishing night,Night of the South wind, night of the large, few stars."
Across the hushed magic came silver sweet the strokes of eleven from the village church, and the spell was broken. I closed the window, lit my candles, and prepared for bed.
Just before extinguishing my lights, and re-opening the window, I carried a candle to the side of the bed with a box of matches. What was my horror on discovering that the turned-down bed and both pillows were liberally strewn with enormous gray moths. The sight was extraordinary, I literally could not believe my eyes. I stood there staring, and mechanically counting them. Twenty—thirty. I turned back to the dressing-table with the candle still in my hand. What was I to do? If I had the courage to destroy them, what sort of condition would the bed be in after?
I am writing of actual facts, and without the least exaggeration. The smallest of those moths must have been quite an inch long in their fat gray bodies, and quite three inches long across the wings. I thought I knew most moths by sight and name, but I had never seen any like these before. What depressed me most was the fact that moths are attracted by candle-light. I had been burning four candles for quite twentyminutes, and not a moth had forsaken the bed for the flame. I was positively certain that they had not flown in whilst I stood in the dark of the open window. They were far too big and numerous to have escaped observation. What was I to do? I could not use that bed, and I now felt a strong repulsion for the room. I regretted deeply that the household must all be in bed, because I knew that no description I could give would convey anything like actuality, and the truth was certain to appear wild exaggeration.
I made up my mind at once. I knew there were several unoccupied rooms on either side of me, and taking my lighted candle I placed it, still lit, in a basin on the marble-topped washstand. It should remain lit all night, and in the morning I would come to search for victims. The other candles I extinguished, all but one to take with me, and leaving the window still shut I softly left the room. I entered the next bedroom and approached the bed. Of course, there were no sheets, but the white dust sheet covering the blankets was spotless—there was not a moth to be seen anywhere. Blowing out my candle I opened the window, and getting into bed between the blankets I was soon fast asleep.
I awakened to glorious sunshine, and looked at my wrist watch, which I had placed beside my bed. Six o'clock and a lovely warm summer morning.
I jumped out of bed, full of curiosity regarding my visitors of over-night, and returned to my own room. Not a trace of a moth to be seen anywhere. The candle had burnt itself out, no singed wings or blackened bodies lay near. The window was shut. I threw it wide, and then I went round the room shaking curtains, looking behind pictures, and climbing on a chairI examined the top of the wardrobe. Not the faintest signs of the great gray drove of the night before. Where could they all have vanished to?
I gave it up, and got into my own bed, to await the advent of my early tea. I hated having to tell the housemaid that I had been driven into another room, but I knew she would find out the fact for herself. She was obviously incredulous, and assured me she had thoroughly searched the room, and seen but two winged creatures; those she had removed from the bed. I had seen for myself when coming to bed that the window had remained shut. She had often seen one or two brown moths in the rooms at night, but she owned that never before had she seen huge gray ones.
The matter was left at that, and during the day I told my hostess of my adventure, and she at once ordered the room I had slept in to be prepared for me, in case I might encounter the same difficulties again. I dressed for dinner in the moth-room, without catching sight of one. When bedtime came we three women all entered the room together.
On approaching the bed, and looking down on it, no one spoke for a moment. Then my fellow guest exclaimed:
"Well, I must say that if I had not seen this with my own eyes I never would have believed it."
The bed was liberally sprinkled with large gray moths.
My hostess shivered. "Come away, and let us shut the door. It's too horrible," she said.
During the remainder of my visit I was perfectly comfortable in my new room, and the curious fact must be stated that after I had left the moth-room the moths forsook it too. I could discern a pityingincredulity in the housemaid's attitude towards me afterwards. She had seen but two, and she did not believe in the drove.
My hostess and friend who had witnessed the phenomenon at once agreed that there was something more in it than an entomological curiosity. I would have given much for the opinion of a naturalist. What, I wonder, would he have made of that fat, gray flock sprinkling the bed? What species of moth would he have declared them to be?
I have searched in many books since and never found anything the least resembling them, and I retain my original, firm belief that they were nothing more or less than a flock of elementals, sent forth as a practical joke by a practiced magician on the other side.
Before writing on the above subject, which is proving to-day of absorbing interest to a very large number of people, Protestant as well as Catholic, I will point out a curious fact that is occultly connected with it.
At certain periods in our normal life, certain subjects lying quite outside our earthly experience begin quite suddenly to be talked of and written upon. No one knows why, no one, outside occultism, can even form a conjecture why such subjects should suddenly obsess the brains of a considerable number of persons, why they should crop up in the most unexpected places, or why they should form the foundations of a considerable mass of literature.
It would appear as if they were floating in the air at some particular time, and masses of people catch them up like germs, and carry them about until their power is exhausted.
I will give an instance. In the years just before the war "The Great God Pan" drifted across our mental horizon and was at once drawn into our aura.
No one knows anything about "The Great God Pan." He is supposed to belong to mythology, but novelists of distinction at once began to write upon him, not one after the other, but simultaneously. I read at least three thrilling novels in which he figuredlargely, and I myself was impelled to write a novel upon the same subject.
I began the book knowing nothing of the god, beyond what I could gather from the London Library, and Frazer's "Golden Bough," but as I proceeded I was conscious of new information drifting in from without, and on finishing the book I found that other authors had been at work on the same subject.
"The Great God Pan" appeared on the stage, and a popular actress sang a song about him. One heard his name mentioned constantly in society, and hideous stories were told of him in Bohemian art circles. He was the bugbear of the séance room, journalists mentioned him in quite serious articles, and I once heard his name spoken from a pulpit.
The bare fact of this seemingly inconsequent disease (for it almost amounted to a disease with us) drifting into our stolid British atmosphere was not curious to the occultist, who is aware that at certain times, certain subjects are flooded in on us from "the other side" by those who have our welfare at heart.
I never heard any explanation of why Pan should have come here to play quite an important part in our mental lives, or why he should have obsessed so many of us for about a couple of years. The more one discovered about him the less one liked him, but psychics are led to believe that there are many schemes of evolution hovering about us, and interpenetrating our own, though not visible to our normal consciousness.
It may therefore be that "The Great God Pan" did actually come into our atmosphere, and thus his individuality impressed itself upon those whose mindswere plastic to such impressions. Possibly he arrived on this earth much as an aerolite arrives, drawn out of his own orbit by the superior attraction of this globe.
"The Great God Pan" was, what might be termed, the forerunner of the devil's reincarnation. The belief in a personal devil was rapidly dying out amongst us, in spite of "The Sorrows of Satan," and the belief in "The Prince of this World" so insisted upon throughout the Old and New Testaments.
There is no more engrossing subject for the occultist to indulge in than gathering together every verse in the Bible dealing with "The Evil One," and trying, with the aid of ancient traditions, to piece a coherent story together. When one gets a certain distance in the study one comes to the conclusion that there is a great deal more in it than meets the eye. It is a vast subject, and I think the most profoundly occult mystery extant and undeciphered.
The devil now occupies a prominent position in the collective thought of the nation. An enormous number of people believe now in his existence, who would have scorned the bare idea before 1916. It was in that year that he began to loom large in the beliefs of quite materially minded people, and his advent into actual, active existence at once complicated matters terribly.
Said a well-known writer to me, "I think there is something in it. It's very tiresome. I was just beginning to settle down in my beliefs, now I'm all upset again by this conception of a personal adversary to the Supreme Ruler."
In the early weeks of 1917 a new impression drifted in on us.
Some angel came down and stirred the pool of the world, and left with us "The Sacred Heart."
"The Sacred Heart" was the forerunner of "The New Jeanne d'Arc," Claire Ferchaud.
There is nothing that has more astonished the Catholic world than hearing "The Sacred Heart" talked of by Protestants, and actually adopted by them as a sacred symbol. Hitherto it has been exclusively a part of Catholic worship.
There was such a demand for the little metal "Sacred Heart" images (a figure of the Christ, with hands outstretched and a flaming heart at His breast), that can be carried about in the pocket, that they were not to be bought in England, and were hard to procure abroad. Enormous numbers had been sent to the front by persons belonging to all denominations, who treasured one of their own at home. Very suddenly "The Sacred Heart" became an object of veneration amongst thousands to whom Roman Catholicism was anathema.
Then came the demand from France that "The Sacred Heart" should be placed above the tricolor.
I had not heard of Claire Ferchaud before the beginning of 1918, though her Divine Mission began about six years previously.
Occultists began to speak of her amongst themselves as one who would yet save France. This hope was never lost sight of in the country's darkest hours. Now there is a steadily growing demand amongst the educated British public to learn all that can be known about this girl who has been called "The New Joan of Arc."
In 1916 she was summoned to appear before an Ecclesiastical Commission at Poitiers in the same roomin which "The Maid of Orleans" was interrogated, before being placed at the head of the Army of deliverance.
Both Claire Ferchaud and her communications were subjected to the strictest scrutiny. The result was entirely in her favor. Her writings were examined by Father Vaudrious, D.D., M.S.D., who declared them inspired, and equal to those of St. Catherine of Sienna and St. Teresa. Finally they were taken to Rome, and submitted to a commission appointed by the Holy See. The result being that she was ordered to continue her mission. The writings deal with devotion to "The Sacred Heart" and the dignity of priesthood.
One is irresistibly reminded of the opening scenes at Lourdes, whilst Bernadette Soubirons was alive, in 1858. Again, one cannot but recall a certain similarity betwixt certain events in the life of the Maid of Orleans and the events taking place now in the life of Claire Ferchaud.
Claire is a girl twenty-two years old, the daughter of a peasant proprietor in the village of Ranfillières, a mile from Lublande, Deux Sèvres Dept., France. Her parents are alive, and she has two sisters and three brothers. The father and one brother fought during the war, another brother was a prisoner, and the youngest assists on the farm. One of the sisters works on the farm, and the eldest sister is a réligieuse at the community of La Sagesse.
Claire was tending her father's flocks when the first great revelation came to her nine years ago; then she was but thirteen years old. She had crept into a thicket to read, and suddenly the Divine Master appeared to her and bade her lay down her book. Hetold her she had been chosen for a Divine Mission, and that He would guide and instruct her. He showed her "The Sacred Heart" covered with wounds.
On recounting her vision to her priest, she was treated with coldness and disbelief, and on her telling him two years later that Our Lord daily appeared to her in Holy Communion she was treated still more coldly.
Until he himself received a sign he maintained an attitude of utter disbelief. What happened soon after whilst he was celebrating Holy Mass, entirely convinced him.
At that particular part of the Canon when the priest divides the Sacred Species he saw blood issue from the Sacred Host. Nor was this all. A week afterwards he observed Claire Ferchaud in a trance in his own church, and he saw her using a handkerchief as if wiping some object in front of her, which he could not see. Blood stains appeared on the handkerchief, and increased as she repeated the action.
Filled with amazement he sought later for an explanation, and she told him.
"Our Lord appeared before me suffering greatly because of the terrible sins of the world, and He asked me to do for Him what Veronica did on the road to Calvary. To wipe away the bloody sweat that trickled down His face. I saw the Sacred Heart, riddled with wounds, and the deepest wound of all was inflicted by France, the eldest daughter of the Church, on whom He had lavished so deep a love. Once before He appeared to me walking upon ears of corn which He crushed to powder."
The priest after hearing this explanation took the handkerchief to the bishop, who listened to thewonderful story with sympathetic attention. He examined the blood-stained handkerchief minutely, and sent for a nun. "If," he said, "the stains are what they are represented to be they cannot be washed out."
The bishop put the matter to the test, and watched the nun endeavoring to remove the stains. It was all in vain, and the bishop standing by his own test declared the mission of Claire Ferchaud to be Divine.
Every night, between eleven and twelve o'clock, Claire beholds apparitions, and receives the sacred teaching that was promised, and it was in 1916 that she was ordered to Poitiers to undergo cross-examination.
Unfortunately the further development of Claire Ferchaud's mission cannot yet be communicated to the world, but in time it will be, and very startling and wonderful it will seem.
Meanwhile she encountered very strong opposition. With considerable difficulty the Deputy of Vendée arranged a meeting between Claire and M. Poincaré. Claire implored him to permit the emblem of the Sacred Heart to be placed on the Standards of France, as the one condition of success. Unfortunately M. Poincaré had to refuse, owing to political reasons, though as proof of her mission she disclosed an incident only known to him which happened after the victory of the Marne.
The same adverse influence operated at her interview with M. Clemenceau. This appointment was arranged by the Archbishop of Rheims, Cardinal Lucon. The Archbishop implored M. Clemenceau to fix a day of public intercession for France. This also the Prime Minister of France had reluctantly to refuse.
It is openly stated that before the later French successes the emblem of the Sacred Heart was secretly sewn upon the flags of France, and it is also affirmed that General Foch is a devoted lover of the Sacred Heart, and bears its emblem with him wherever he goes.
Great changes have come about in the village where Claire Ferchaud dwells. Formerly a sleepy, neglected little place, it is now converted into a scene of the greatest activity.
From all parts of France the pilgrims come—some on foot, having walked many miles, some in motors and horse-driven vehicles. Hundreds of soldiers find their way there, and it is estimated that from fifteen to twenty thousand people pass through Lublande in a month.
With the consent of her bishop, Claire Ferchaud has formed a small community of nine, and is now established in a temporary convent adjacent to her parish church at Lublande. It is believed that her Divine Mission will be accomplished in 1922, and that she will then be released from earthly life.
Claire has predicted a stormy period for France after peace has been signed. According to her prophecy there will be violent unrest until rulers arise who possess firm religious convictions. At the beginning of the war she affirmed that the French Army would never prosper until the troops were commanded by a true son of the Church. This affirmation she claimed to receive from a Divine source. When Maréchal Foch took over the supreme command she was satisfied that victory, so far as the French arms were concerned, was assured.
As all the world knows, and as all may learn whoread Hyndman's life of his old friend Clemenceau, the Prime Minister of France, like the majority of his colleagues, is frankly atheistical. Claire Ferchaud claims to have received the Divine intimation that until this condition of mind is superseded by a public acknowledgment of a supreme divine power, a supreme arbiter over the destinies of the world, the affairs of France can never prosper. She predicts that in 1922 rulers will arise who will bow before a Power superior to their own human energies.
The first part of her prophecy has come true. A man of God won his way to the front, and saved France and the Allies at the darkest hour of their tribulation.
The supreme command was vested in a man of profound religious convictions, who carried his beliefs and observances openly into the arena of war.
I translate the words written lately to me by one who has served under Ferdinand Foch. They throw a brilliant light upon a great soul.
"I can see him now, alone and unattended, at an hour when the Church of Cassel was deserted, praying and seeking comfort in the great sorrow, of which he never spoke. He had lost his only son, and one of his daughters was widowed. In spite of his indomitable energy there was about him an air of profound melancholy and sadness.
"At certain moments his eyes seemed to say, 'I approach the twilight of my life in the consciousness of being a good servant who will repose in the peace of God. My faith in life eternal, in a good God, has sustained me in my hardest hours. Prayer has illumined my soul. See to it, you young men of France, who are without a great ideal, without anyconception of the spiritual side of life, there can be nothing for you but discouragement and feebleness. We demand of you great sacrifices to the end. Accept those sacrifices as I accept mine, who believe that spirit must prevail over matter.'"
I have never yet met any one who was not interested in haunted houses. Even the most blatant skeptic always wants to "hear all about it," though he has predetermined to treat the story with his habitual scoffing incredulity. Of all the departments of psychical research none commands more general interest than a "spooky" house, and there are few people who cannot name a dwelling which has acquired the reputation for being haunted by denizens of the other world.
Of course, any house that falls into serious disrepair, and remains unoccupied for some long period, any dwelling whose owner permits decay to proceed unchecked, and dilapidation to run its course, at once suggests the thought to the beholder, "what a haunted looking old place," and rumor, in such cases, quickly supplies all the old phenomena, even though tradition be totally absent. Tramps are always on the lookout for such shelters, and their damped-down fires catch the eye of some scared rustic who happens to be passing in the dark. Rats and the winds of heaven play hide-and-seek through the deserted rooms and corridors, and owls find sanctuary in the surrounding gardens. Their cries, varying from the exultant shriek to the mournful wail, add a weird suggestiveness to the abiding melancholy of such abandoned habitations.
There is so much talk nowadays of hauntings and ghosts, that it seems strange we should know so very little about them. I have never heard a really convincing explanation of why ghosts should haunt certain houses, and I have no explanation of my own to offer. If ghosts could be commanded, if one could be sure of witnessing certain phenomena that have been elaborately described to one, then there might be the ghost of a chance of advantageous investigation. No such opportunities seem to be afforded the investigator. He may watch for months and see nothing, yet the elusive wraith may turn up before several witnesses on the very night after he has abandoned his quest out of sheer boredom and discouragement.
Some seven years ago, whilst wintering in Torquay, I heard a great deal of gossip about a villa on the Warberries, which was reputed to be badly haunted. For the last forty to fifty years nobody, it was said, had been able to live in it for any length of time. Several people asserted that they had heard screams coming from it as they passed along the high road, and no occupant had ever been able to keep a door shut or even locked.
The house is at present being pulled down, therefore I commit no indiscretion in describing the phenomena connected with it.
"Castel a Mare" is situated in what house agents would describe as "a highly residential quarter." It is surrounded by numerous villas, inhabited by people who are all very "well to do," and who make Torquay their permanent home. The majority of these villas lie right back from the road, and are hidden in theirown luxuriant gardens, but the haunted house is one of several whose back premises open straight on to the road.
No dwelling could have looked more commonplace or uninteresting. It was built in the form of a high box, three storied. It was hideous and inartistic in the extreme, but along its frontage looking towards the sea and hidden from the road, there ran a wide balcony on to which the second floor rooms opened, and from there the view over the garden was charming. When I first went to look at it, dilapidation had set in. Jackdaws and starlings were busy in the chimneys, the paint was peeling off the walls, and most of the windows were broken. Year after year those windows were mended, but they never remained intact for more than a week, and during the war there has been no attempt at renewal. Even the agents' boards, "To be let or sold" dropped one by one from their stems, as if in sheer weariness of so fruitless an announcement.
It was not long before I obtained the loan of the keys, and proceeded to "take the atmosphere." It was decidedly unhealthful, I concluded, though I neither heard nor saw anything unusual during the hour I spent alone in quietly wandering through the deserted rooms. I found no trace of tramps, and all the closed windows were thickly cobwebbedinside, an important fact to notice in psychic research. I fixed upon the bathroom and one other small room, as thefociof the trouble, and left the house with no other strong impression than that my movements had been closely watched, by some one unseen by me. It was no uncommon sight in pre-war days to see severalsmart motor cars drawn up at the gate. Frivolous parties of explorers in search of a thrill drove in from the surrounding neighborhood, and romped gayly through the house and out again, and I discovered that several of those visitors had distinctly felt that they were being followed about and watched.
My husband and I were naturally much interested in this haunted dwelling, so accessible, and so near to our own house. We determined that if we could make friends with the owner we would do a little investigation on our own. Numerous people, on the plea that the house might suit them as a residence, got the loan of the keys, and spent an hour or two inside the place, wandering about the house and garden, but the owner was getting tired of this rush of spurious house-hunters. He was beginning to ask forbona fides, so we determined honestly to state our purpose.
The proprietor was an old builder who owned several other houses. He received me very civilly, even gratefully. He would willingly give us the keys for as long a period as we required them. "Castel a Mare" brought him extreme bad luck; he longed to be rid of it, and he added that after our investigations, if my husband could give the house a clean bill of health it would be of enormous benefit to him, in enabling him to let or sell it. He did not seem very hopeful, but stated it to be his opinion that the hauntings were all nonsense, and that the screams people heard were the cries of some peacocks that lived in a property not far off. This sounded very reasonable, and I promised him that if we could honestly state that the house was perfectly unhealthful, we would permit our conclusions to be made public.
My husband and I decided that the hour one p. m. till two p. m. would be the quietest and least conspicuous time in which to investigate. Doubtless the night would have been better still, but it would have created too much excitement in the neighborhood, and callers to see "how we were bearing up" would have defeated our object. Between one and two all Torquay would be lunching, and we could easily slip in unobserved, and we would require neither lights nor warm comforts.
We started at once, my husband keeping the keys, and making himself responsible for the doors. Though the window-panes were badly broken there were no openings large enough to admit a small child, and, as I have said, the network of cobwebs within was evidence that no human being entered the house by the windows. The front door lock was in good order, and so were most of the other locks in the house. We shut ourselves in, and after a thorough examination of the premises we mounted to the first floor. Three rooms opened on to it, belonging to the principal bedroom—a smaller room and a bathroom opening out of the big bedroom. My husband closed all the doors, and we sat down on the lower steps of the bare staircase leading to the floor above. That day we drew an absolute blank, and at two o'clock we closed every door in the house, and just inside the front door we made a careless looking arrangement of twigs, dead leaves, pieces of straw and dust, which could not fail to betray the passing of human feet, should anybody possess a duplicate key to the front door and enter by that means.
The second day we found our twig and straw arrangements intact, but not a single door was shut,all were thrown defiantly wide. This seemed rather promising and we went upstairs to our seat on the steps, and carefully reclosing the doors immediately in front of us, sat down to await events.
Quite half an hour must have passed when suddenly a click made us both look up. The handle of the door, but a couple of yards distant from me, leading into the small room, was turning, and the door quietly opened wide enough to admit the passing of a human being. It was a bright sunny day, and one could see the brass knob turning round quite distinctly. We saw no form of any sort, and the door remained half open. For perhaps a couple of moments we awaited developments, then our attention was suddenly switched off the door by the sound of hurrying footsteps running along the bare boards on the corridor above us. My husband rushed up and searched each empty room, but neither saw anything nor heard anything more. Before leaving the house we shut all doors, and locked all that would lock. Such was the meager extent of our second day's investigations.
On the third day the doors were all found wide flung. No door opened before our eyes as on our former visit, but a brushing sound was heard ascending the stairs, as if from some one pressing close against the wall.
For about a fortnight nothing happened beyond what I have recounted, but I was strongly conscious that we were being watched. The most unhealthful spots were the bathroom, a servants' room entered by a staircase leading from the kitchen, and the stable, a small building immediately to the right of the house. The bathroom was in great disrepair, long strips of paper hung from the walls, and an air of profounddepression pervaded it. Obviously it had once been merely a large cupboard, and it had a window admitting light from a passage behind it.
We had never once failed to find every door which we had closed thrown wide on our return, and one day we locked the bathroom, and removing the key we looked about for some spot in which to secrete it. On that floor was nothing large enough to hide even so small an object as a key, so we took it downstairs to the dining-room. In a corner lay a rag of linoleum about six inches square, under this we placed the bathroom key and left the house.
That afternoon a house agent called and asked for the loan of the keys. He told us that a brave widow, who knew the history of the house, thought it might suit her to live in, and he proposed to take her over it and point out its charms. He would return the keys to us directly afterwards. I took advantage of this occasion to say to the agent that probably the screams some people had heard proceeded from the peacocks in the neighborhood.
He shook his head and answered, "We hoped that might prove to be the case, but we have ascertained that it is not so." He seemed despondent about the place, even though what we had to tell him was as yet nothing very formidable or exciting. What we did not tell him was that we had locked up the bathroom, and hidden the key. We left him to discover that fact for himself.
He returned with the keys in about an hour, and I asked him what the widow thought of "Castel a Mare."
"She thinks something might be made of it. The cheapness attracts her," he answered.
"But it will need so much doing to it," I demurred. "What did she think of the bathroom?"
"She said it only needed cleaning and repapering. The bath itself she found in good enough condition."
So the bathroom door was open, in spite of our having locked it and hidden the key!
After the agent had gone we went to the house. Every door stood wide. The bathroom key was still in its hiding-place, and the door open. We replaced the key. The ghosts laughed to scorn such securities as locks and keys.
For a month or two we pursued our investigations, then we returned the keys to the owner. Though we had seen and heard so little it was impossible to give the house a clean bill of health, and the old builder was much cast down. A few days afterwards we received a letter from him offering us the house as a free gift. It would pay him to be rid of the ground rent, and the place was as useless to him as to any one else. We thanked him and refused the gift.
About this period I was lucky enough to get into touch with a former tenant of "Castel a Mare," and this lady most kindly gave me many details of her residence there. About thirty years ago she occupied it with her father and mother, and they were the last family to live in it for any length of time, and for many years it has remained empty.
Soon after their arrival this family discovered that there was something very much amiss with their new residence. The house, the garden, and the stable were decidedly uncanny, but it was some time before they would admit, even to themselves, that the strange happenings were of a supernatural order.
The phenomena fell under three headings: a piercingscream heard continually, at any hour and during all seasons; continuous steps running along corridors, and up and down stairs; constant lockings of doors by unseen hands.
The scream was decidedly the most unnerving of the various phenomena. The family lived in constant dread of it. Sometimes it came from the garden, sometimes from inside the house. One morning whilst they sat at breakfast, they were violently startled by this horrible sound coming from the inner hall, just outside the room in which they sat. It took but a moment to throw open the door, but, as usual, there was nothing to be seen.
On another occasion the family doctor had just arrived at the front door, and was about to ring, when he was startled by the scream coming from inside the house. This doctor still lives in the neighborhood, and is one of many people who can bear witness to the fact.
The footsteps of unseen people kept the family pretty busy. They were always running to the doors to see who was hurrying past, and up and down stairs. Very soon the drawing-room became extremely uncomfortable, and practically uninhabitable. It was always full of unseen people moving about. The lady of the house never felt herself alone, and when she found herself locked into her own room, the behavior of her astral guests seemed to her to have become intolerable. The master of the house no more escaped these attentions than did the rest of the inhabitants, and finally all keys had to be removed from all doors.
One night some guests, after getting into bed, heard some one open the door of their room and enter. Astonishment kept them silent, and in a minute ortwo their visitor quietly withdrew and closed the door again. They concluded that it must have been their hostess, and that thinking they were asleep she had not spoken, yet still they thought the incident very strange. The next morning they discovered that no member of the household had entered their room.
On another occasion a lady who had come to help nurse a sick sister saw, one night, a strange woman dressed in black velvet walk downstairs.
Animals fared badly at "Castel a Mare." A large dog belonging to the family was often found cowering and growling in abject fear of something visible to it, but not to the human inhabitants, and the harness horse showed such an invincible objection to its stable, that it could only be got in by backing.
Later on I was told that a member of the Psychical Society had visited "Castel a Mare," and had pronounced the garden to be more haunted than the house.
It is interesting to note how absolutely untenable badly haunted houses become. No matter how skeptical, how resolutely material the tenants may be, the phenomena wear them down to a humble surrender at last. After all, what can people do but quit a residence which is constantly showing incontrovertible evidence that it is possessed by numerous unseen entities that defy analysis?
Every one is interested in getting rid of this weird disturbance, but how to do it? The skeptic is resolute in unmasking the fraud, but finds himself balked by intangibility. He hears the scream at his door, and rushes to arrest the miscreant, but sees no one to grapple with. Domestic difficulties become acute. No warning is given, no wages asked. The servants decamp, too scared to care for anything but puttingdistance between themselves and the nameless dread. Visitors begin to fight shy of the house. They have heard the screams.
Month after month the master of the house, thinking of his rent, and his reputation for sanity, and what the loss of both would mean to him, clings to skepticism as his only hope and refuge. He is not going to be driven forth by any such stuff and nonsense as ghosts! Why! there are no such things! "Seen things? heard things?" Well, yes, he has, but, of course, there must be some rational explanation. A man who has fought for king and country is not going to be defeated and put to flight by a pack of silly women's stories. He will soon get to the bottom of the whole affair, then woe betide the practical joker!
When alone he racks his brains in vain. He is furious with himself for having heard the scream, and tells himself he must be "going dotty." He is puzzled, baffled, irritated, but more determined than ever to "stick it out." Who can the "joker" be who is demoralizing his household, who has even dared to lock him into his own room? He thinks of his wife and family, and of their shattered nerves; he thinks of his terrified servants, and of his dog, which can no longer be persuaded to enter the house. He feels he must look elsewhere for the disturber of his peace. But where? He keeps careful watch unknown (as he thinks) to his family. The steps approach him, pass close to him, then die away in the distance, leaving him fuming, impotent. He finds it necessary to wipe his brow, which enrages him still more. At dead of night he watches on the staircase, with all lights full on.
Silence, utter silence! Absolutely nothing to beseen or heard. He thinks of going to bed. He always said the whole thing was "tommy rot." The deathly silence is suddenly rent by a piercing scream at his very elbow, and he leaps to his feet, growling out an oath below his breath. He looks wildly round on every side of him. Nothing! Something strange is happening to his head. He passes his hand over his hair. It seems to be creeping along his scalp, and he thinks of the quills of a porcupine. "What the devil is he to do?" "Go to bed," answers inclination, "you're doing no good here. Yes! Go to bed; that's the sensible thing to do."
The next morning every one asks him if he heard "it." He acknowledges to himself that his temper is becoming vile.
The day comes when he is left alone with his family. The staff has fled and he feels rather broken.
At last he gives in, and agrees to seek another home, but it is not to the ghosts he gives in, but to the nervous fancies of a pack of silly women. He feels wonderfully light-hearted, however, now that his mind is made up, and a glow of magnanimity pervades him. "If you do a thing at all do it well andat once," he tells himself, and promptly hires another house in another neighborhood.
When questioned by his men friends he laughs. The man in the street might understand certain things that he could tell, but the man in the club, never! "All tommy rot, my dear chap, but my wife got nervous, and the servants! You know what they are. Scared by the scratch of a mouse. For the women's sake I thought it best to quit. You know what women are, when they once get an idea into their heads!"
In 1917 a friend rang me up and asked me if I would form one of a party of investigation at "Castel a Mare." The services of a medium had been secured, and a soldier on leave, who was deeply immersed in psychic research, was in high hopes of getting some genuine results.
I accepted the invitation because a certain incident had once more roused my curiosity in the haunted house.
During our investigations I had been disappointed at not hearing the much-talked-of scream, the more so after learning from the former tenants how very often they had heard it. When I did at last hear it I was walking past the house on a very hot summer morning, about eleven o'clock. I was not thinking of the house, and had just passed it on my way home, when a piercing scream arrested my attention. I wheeled round instantly; there was not a doubt as to where the scream came from, but unfortunately, though there were people on the road, there was no one near enough to bear witness. The scream appeared to come from some one in abject terror, and would have arrested the attention of any one who happened to be passing. I mean that had no haunted house stood there, had the scream proceeded from any other villa, I am sure that any passer-by would have halted wonderingly, and awaited further developments.
"Castel a Mare" lay in absolute silence, under the blazing sunshine, and in a minute or two I walked on. I could now understand what it must have meant to live in that house, in constant dread of that weird and hideous sound resounding through the rooms or garden.
This incident made me eager to join my friend's party, and on reaching the house I found a small crowd assembled.
The medium, myself, and four other women. The soldier, and an elderly and burly builder belonging to the neighborhood, who was interested in psychic research. Eight persons in all.
As there was no chair or furniture of any description in the house, we carried in a small empty box from a rubbish heap outside, and followed the medium through the rooms. She elected to remain in the large bedroom, on the first floor, out of which opened the bathroom, and she sat down on the box and leaned her back against the wall, whilst we lounged about the room and awaited events. It was a sunny summer afternoon, and the many broken panes of glass throughout the house admitted plenty of air.
After some minutes it was plain to see that the medium had fallen into a trance. Her eyes were closed, and she lay back as if in sound sleep. Time passed, nothing happened, we were all rather silent, as I had warned the party that though we were in a room at the side of the house farthest from the road, our voices could plainly be heard by passers-by, and we wanted no interference.
Just as we were all beginning to feel rather bored and tired of standing, the medium sprang to her feet with surprising agility, pouring out a volume of violentlanguage. Her voice had taken on the deep growling tones of an infuriated man, who advanced menacingly towards those of us who were nearest to him. In harsh, threatening voice he demanded to know what right we had to intrude on his privacy.
There was a general scattering of the scared party before this unlooked-for attack, and the soldier gave it as his opinion that the medium was now controlled by the spirit of a very violent male entity. I had no doubt upon the point.
Then commenced so very unpleasant a scene that I had no doubt also of the medium's genuineness. No charlatan, dependent upon fraudulent mediumship for her daily bread, would have made herself so intensely obnoxious as did this frail little woman. I found myself saying, "Never again. This isn't good enough."
The entity that controlled her possessed superhuman strength. His voice was like the bellow of a bull, as he told us to be gone, or he would throw us out himself, and his language was shocking.
I had warned the medium on entering the house that we must be as quiet as possible, or we would have the police walking in on us. Now I expected any moment to see a policeman, or some male stranger arrive on the scene, and demand to know what was the matter.
The majority of our party were keeping at a safe distance, but suddenly the control rushed full tilt at the soldier, who had stood his ground, and attacking him with a tigerish fury drew blood at once. The big builder and I rushed forward to his aid. The rest of the party forsook us and fled, pell-mell, out of the house and into the garden. Glancing through a window,near which we fought, I saw below a row of scared faces staring up in awed wonder.
The scene being enacted was really amazing. This frail little creature threw us off like feathers, and drove us foot by foot before her, always heading us off the bathroom. We tried to stand our ground, and dodge her furious lunges, but she was too much for us. After a desperate scuffle, which lasted quite seven or eight minutes, and resulted in much torn clothing, she drove us out of the room and on to the landing. Then suddenly, without warning, the entity seemed to evacuate the body he had controlled, and the medium went down with a crash and lay at our feet, just a little crumpled disheveled heap.
For some considerable time I thought that she was dead. Her lips were blue, and I could feel no pulse. We had neither water nor brandy with which to revive her, and we decided to carry her down into the garden and see what fresh air would do. Though villas stood all round us, the foliage of the trees gave us absolute privacy, and we laid her flat on the lawn. There, after about ten minutes, she gradually regained her consciousness, and seemingly none the worse for her experiences she sat up and asked what had happened.
We did not give her the truth in its entirety, and contrived to account for the blood-stained soldier and the torn clothing, without unduly shocking and distressing her. We then dispersed; the medium walking off as if nothing whatever had occurred to deplete her strength.
Some days after this the soldier begged for another experiment with the medium. He had no doubts as to her genuineness, and he was sure that if we triedagain we would get further developments. She was willing to try again, and so was the builder, but with one exception the rest of the party refused to have anything more to do with the unpleasant affair, and the one exception stipulated to remain in the garden. She very wisely remarked that if she came into the house there was no knowing what entity might not attach itself to her, and return home with her, and she was not going to risk it. Of course this real danger always had to be counted upon in such investigations, but as the men of the party desired a woman to accompany the medium, I consented, and we entered the house once more, a reduced party of four.
After the medium had remained entranced for some minutes, the same male entity again controlled her. The same violence, the same attacks began once more, but this time we were better prepared to defend ourselves. The soldier and the stalwart builder warded off the attacks, and tried conciliatory expostulations, but all to no purpose. Then the soldier, who seemed to have considerable experience in such matters, tried a system of exorcising, sternly bidding the malignant entity depart. There ensued a very curious spiritual conflict between the exorcist and the entity, in which sometimes it seemed as if one, then the other, was about to triumph.
Those wavering moments were useful in giving us breathing space from the assaults, and at length having failed, as we desired, to get into the bathroom, we drove him back against the wall at the far end of the room. Finally the exorcist triumphed, and the medium collapsed on the floor, as the strength of the control left her.
For a few moments we allowed the crumpled uplittle heap to remain where she lay, whilst we mopped our brows and regained our breath. The soldier had brought a flask of brandy which we proposed to administer to the unconscious medium, but quite suddenly a new development began.
She raised her head, and still crouching on the floor with closed eyes she began to cry bitterly. Wailing, and moaning, and uttering inarticulate words, she had become the picture of absolute woe.
"Another entity has got hold of her," announced the soldier. It certainly appeared to be so.
All signs of violence had gone. The medium had become a heart-broken woman.
We raised her to her feet, her condition was pitiable, but her words became more coherent.
"Poor master! On the bed. Help him! Help him!" she moaned, and pointed to one side of the room. Again and again she indicated, by clenching her hands on her throat, that death by strangulation was the culmination of some terrible tragedy that had been enacted in that room.
She wandered, in a desolate manner, about the floor, wringing her hands, the tears pouring down her cheeks, whilst she pointed to the bed, then towards the bathroom with shuddering horror.
Suddenly we were startled out of our compassionate sympathy by a piercing scream, and my thoughts flew instantly to the experiences of the former tenants, and what I myself had heard in passing on that June morning of the former year.
The medium had turned at bay, and began a frantic encounter with some entity unseen by us. Wildly she wrestled and fought, as if for her life, whilst she emitted piercing shrieks for "help." We rushed tothe rescue, dragging her away from her invisible assailant, but a disembodied fighter has a considerable pull over a fighter in the flesh, who possesses something tangible that can be seized. I placed the medium behind me, with her back to the wall, but though I pressed her close she continued to fight, and I had to defend myself as well as defend her. Her assailant was undoubtedly the first terrible entity which had controlled her. At intervals she gasped out, "Terrible doctor—will kill me—he's killed master—help! help!"
Gradually she ceased to fight. The soldier was exorcising with all his force, and was gaining power; finally he triumphed, inasmuch as he banished the "terrible doctor."
The medium was, however, still under the control of the broken-hearted entity, and began again to wander about the room. We extracted from her further details. An approximate date of the tragedy. Her master's name, that he was mentally deficient when the murder took place. She was a maidservant in the house, and after witnessing the crime she appeared to have shared her master's fate, though by what means we could not determine. The doctor was a resident physician of foreign origin.
At last we induced her to enter the bathroom, which she seemed to dread, and there she fell to lamenting over the dead body of her master, which had lain hidden there when the room was used as a large cupboard. It was a very painful scene, which was ended abruptly by her falling down insensible.
She had collapsed in an awkward corner, but at last we lifted her out, and carried her downstairs to the garden. When I tried to revive her with brandyI found that her teeth were tightly clenched. I then tried artificial respiration, as I could feel no pulse. Gradually she came back to life, quietly, calmly, and in total ignorance of what had occurred. The most amazing thing was that she showed no signs whatever of exhaustion or mental fatigue. We were all dead beat, but not so the fragile-looking little medium, though externally she looked terribly disheveled and draggled.
This was the last time I set foot in the haunted house, which is now being demolished, but I still had to experience more of its odd phenomena.
The date and names the medium had given us were later on verified by means of a record of villa residents, which for many years had been kept in the town of Torquay.
There is no one left now who has any interest in verifying a tragic story supposed to have been enacted about fifty years ago. It must be left in the realms of psychic research, by which means it was dragged to light. Certain it is that no such murder came to the knowledge of those who were alive then, and live still in Torquay.
If there is any truth in the story it falls under the category of undiscovered crimes. The murderer was able somehow to hide his iniquities, and escape suspicion and punishment. I do not know if it is intended to build another house on the same site. I hope not, for it is very probable that a new residence would share the fate of the old. Bricks and mortar are no impediment to the free passage of the disembodied, and there is no reason why they should not elect to manifest for an indefinite period of time.
There can be no doubt that the scream was an actualfact. There are so many people living who heard it, and are willing to testify to the horror of it. Amongst those living people are former tenants, who for long bore the nervous strain of its constant recurrence.
There remains one other weird incident in connection with "Castel a Mare" which I will now try to describe.
In the winter of 1917 I was engaged in war work which took me out at night. Like every other coast town Torquay was plunged at sunset into deepest darkness, save when the moon defied the authorities. The road leading from the nearest tramcar to our house was not lit at all, and one had to stumble along as best one could, even electric torches being forbidden.
I was returning home one very dark, still night about a quarter past ten, and being very tired I was walking very slowly. Owing to the inky darkness I thought it best to walk in the middle of the road, in order to avoid the inequalities in the footpath at each garden entrance to the villas. At that hour there was no traffic, and not a soul about.
Suddenly my steps were arrested by a loud knocking on a window-pane, and I collected my thoughts and tried to take my bearings. The sound came from the left, where two or three villas stand close to the road. All I could distinguish was a denser blot of black against the dense surroundings, but by making certain calculations I recognized that I stood outside "Castel a Mare." The knocking on the pane lasted only a moment or two, and was insistent and peremptory. I jumped to the instant conclusion that some one was having "a lark" inside, and was trying to "get a rise" out of me. I was too tired to be bothered, and moved on again with a strong inclinationtowards my own warm bed, when the knocking rang out more peremptory than ever. It seemed to say "Stop! don't go on. I have something to say to you." Involuntarily I stood still again, and wished that some human being would pass along the road. I really would not have cared who it was, policeman, soldier, maidservant. I would have laid hold of them and said, "Do you hear that knocking? It comes from the haunted house."
Alas! no one did come. The night lay like an inky pall all about me, silent as the grave, save for that commanding order to stop which was rapped upon a window-pane whenever I attempted to move on.
Though the being who thus sought to detain me could not possibly distinguish who I was, or whether my gender was male or female, he could certainly hear my footsteps as I walked, and the cool inconsequence of his behavior began to nettle me. I was about to move resolutely on when I heard something else. This time something really thrilling!
Peal after peal of light laughter, accompanied by flying feet. But such laughter! Thin, high treble laughter, right away up and out of the scale, and apparently proceeding from many persons. Such flying feet! racing, pattering, rushing feet, light as those of the trained athlete. I stood enthralled with wonder, for in the pitch-black darkness of that house surely no human feet could avoid disaster. They were rushing up and down that steep, bare wooden staircase that I knew so well, and the laughter and the swift-winged feet sounded now from the ground floor, then could be clearly traced ascending, till they reached the third and last floor. Tearing along the empty corridors,they began the breakneck descent again to the bottom, a pell-mell, wild rush of demented demons chasing each other. That is what it sounded like.
I must have stood there for quite ten minutes, longing intensely for some one to share in my experiences, but Torquay had gone to bed, and I felt it was time for me to do likewise.
What could I make of the affair? Nothing! Rats? Rats don't laugh. Human beings having a rag and trying to scare the neighborhood? No human being could have run up and down that staircase in such profound darkness. It would have been a case of crawling up with a firm hand on the banister rail.
I gave up trying to think and turned resolutely away. As I did so the knocking began again upon the window-pane.
"Do stop; oh! don't go away. Stop! stop!" it seemed to call after me insistently as I quickened my footsteps and gradually outdistanced the imperious demand.
What explanation have I to offer? None! The hallucinations of a tired woman? That may do for the general public, but not for me. You see, I was the person who heard it.
There are many haunted houses that are quite habitable, such as Hampton Court Palace, etc. Where the apparition keeps strictly to an anniversary, or where the phenomena are mild and inoffensive, their presence can be endured with a certain amount of equanimity. The point really lies in this. Are the ghosts who haunt a dwelling indifferent to, or hostile to, the presence of their companions in the flesh? If the situation is according to the latter, then the ghosts willcertainly score. They will rid themselves of the human inhabitants by a wearing-down nerve pressure, which cannot be fought against with any chance of success. If the ghosts are shy or indifferent, wrapped up in their own concerns and containing themselves in a world of their own, then there is no reason why the incarnate and discarnate should not live peacefully together.
To-day, February 27th, 1919, I read the following in theMorning Post:—
"Haunted or disturbed properties. A lady who has deeply studied this subject and possesses unusual powers will find out the history of the trouble and undertake to remedy it. Houses with persistent bad luck can often be freed from the influence. Strictest confidence. Social references asked and offered."
What would our grandparents have thought of this means of turning an honest penny? I have no doubt the lady "possessing the unusual powers" will be employed, and in many cases she will be successful. In the majority of cases I venture to say that she will fail, simply because the majority of cases are too elusive to be dealt with by human means. How would this lady treat the "Castel a Mare" scream? How would she deal with the next story I am going to relate?
It is a simple matter to compile a book of thrilling ghost stories if direct evidence is not given, if names of persons and places are suppressed.
I claim that my stories have a special interest and value, because I have tried to restrict them to such as can be attested to by living persons, closely related to me either by friendship or by family ties. In a very few instances I have been obliged for obvious reasonsto suppress the names of houses and hotels. In these cases I am ready personally to supply full information to genuine students of the occult, if they are willing to approach me privately.
A considerable number of people are alive who can testify to the truth of the facts I now narrate. I regret that I have not been able to investigate this case personally, but I hope to do so before very long.
In the spring of 1901, my sister and her husband, Major Stewart, rented an old shooting lodge in Argyllshire. The place was charmingly situated, the shooting and fishing excellent, and the scenery around was noted for its romantic beauty.
Though the main portion of the house was old, a new wing had been added for the sleeping accommodation of servants, and this arrangement shut them off at night from the ancient part of the dwelling. The original kitchen still remained in use.
The servants had been sent on in advance to prepare the lodge, and when Major and Mrs. Stewart arrived they were at once confronted with the information that the place bore a very evil reputation. The villagers had not hesitated to prime the maids with all sorts of creepy stories, eminently calculated to cause their precipitate departure. Luckily for the master and mistress the maids had been with them for some years, and were neither of a timid age nor disposition, so the household settled comfortably down, in those long spring and summer days, which in the north means practically no darkness.
My sister had banished the alleged hauntings from her mind, and probably the maids had done likewise, for all was going quietly and well, when suddenly, after a week's residence, there came a rude reminder.
Major and Mrs. Stewart were both awakened one night by unmistakable sounds of very noisy burglars, who appeared to have broken into the house through the kitchen quarters. The major lit a candle, and looked at his watch. It was just on midnight. What puzzled them both was the noise the intruders made. Burglars naturally tread softly and stealthily, but these men stamped about in heavy boots, and were engaged in throwing about heavy articles. There seemed to be quite a number of accomplices involved in the enterprise, and they displayed an amazing indifference to detection.
My sister and her husband decided that events could not be left to take their course. This matter must be looked into. The major armed himself with a loaded revolver. My sister armed herself with a lighted candle and a box of matches, and together they crept softly downstairs on their way to the kitchen.
All this time the noises continued. Stamping of heavy feet, crashing down of heavy weights, but on the way downstairs a first glimmering that the supernatural came into this affair began to dawn upon my sister. She became aware that an invisible presence was following them.
The noises continued as they cautiously and silently crept towards the kitchen. As they reached the door, suddenly utter silence fell. Inside nothing was disarranged. There were no signs of burglars, everything was as usual.
Considerably mystified Major and Mrs. Stewart returnedto bed, and were not disturbed again that night.
The next day, about four o'clock in the afternoon, the same sounds began again. This time the noise was easily located in one of the unused bedrooms on the top floor of the house. Heavily shod men were tramping about the floor overhead, throwing down heavy boxes and making a considerable disturbance.
Major and Mrs. Stewart ascended on tiptoe, and when outside the closed door listened intently. There was no mistake this time. Nothing could sound more human than the activity going on inside that room. Half a dozen men at least were in possession of it, and those men had to be confronted. Luckily they had no means of escape. This time they really would be caught.
After a few minutes of silent listening the major, whose hand was on the knob, threw open the door and bounded into the room.
Instant silence—nothing—not even the whisk of a defiant rat's tail!
The husband and wife sat down and stared at one another in utter bewilderment. The bright spring daylight seemed to mock them as it flooded every chink and cranny.
Shortly after this occurrence three guests came to stay, two women and a man. They were given bedrooms on the top floor, but the room whence the disturbance had come was left severely alone. The household, with one accord, welcomed their advent as a pleasant distraction, and it was unanimously agreed that they should be kept in absolute ignorance of what had taken place.
The next morning the three guests all had the same story to tell, of having had no sleep. Heavily bootedmen kept passing their doors, and heavy articles were flung about in adjacent rooms. They had spent a night of terror. No one had possessed sufficient courage to look out into the corridor, along which the men were passing, and they had kept lights burning in their rooms till full daybreak. They refused to sleep again upon that floor.
My sister moved them down to the second floor, on which she herself slept, and a thorough investigation of the house, outside and inside, was made. No conclusion was come to.
The noises continued on the following night, but being overhead, and more distant, they were more endurable.
A second male guest now arrived, and the assembled household waited in breathless interest to see how the ghosts would affect him. Nothing whatever was told to him, and he was lodged in a bedroom immediately underneath the noisy one.
The next morning, after all had passed a disturbed night, it was found that some of the noises had proceeded from the new guest. He had carried some of his blankets out into the garden and had slept there. He remained on, but refused to sleep in the house, and a tent was rigged up for him outside. He stated that the disturbances were too much for his nerves, though he had no idea what they were. His behavior, on the first night, in retiring to the garden, was meant as a strong protest against such treatment of a tired guest. His temper had got the upper hand of him, after fruitless efforts to sleep, and, finally, he had tramped downstairs with an armful of blankets, anticipating many apologies next morning from host and hostess, and a peaceful night to follow.
The following day a new maid arrived. She slept in the old part of the house, and shortly afterwards asked my sister if the house was haunted, as she had been kept awake by "heavy people running past her door with naked feet."
By this time it was only the influence of the staid old servants which prevented the younger ones from taking flight. My sister and her husband were not alarmed, they were profoundly interested.
The summer passed on, and there were days and weeks when nothing was heard, then quite suddenly the disturbances would begin again. As the noises sounded so very human it was extremely difficult to believe that they really did not proceed from incarnate beings, and my sister told me that time after time, as she listened, she would say to herself, "Now, beyond a shadow of doubt there are men in that room." She would creep upstairs, listen for some time with her hand on the door-knob—then suddenly throw it open—to find nothing. She never wearied of trying to surprise those invisible men.
At times when her husband was away from home, she would spend the entire night in an obstinate attempt to solve the mystery. When she had no guests, and the servants were asleep in their new wing, she would awake to the noise. Taking her candle she would mount on bare, silent feet to the floor above, and listen at the door, often for half an hour at a time. She had no fear, but intense curiosity. It was easy to trace what was going on in the room. Men were packing, moving heavy boxes, throwing down heavy articles, walking about the floor with ponderous tread. First they would be at one end of the room, then move on to the other. Sometimes they approached so near thedoor behind which she stood, that she expected to see it open, and to be confronted by several burly ruffians. She would rush suddenly in, candle in hand, only to be received in sudden, utter silence. Not even the scurry of a scared mouse. After half an hour of patient waiting within the room, she would leave it, close the door, and sit down on the staircase. In a few moments the disturbance was again in full swing.
Were I writing an account of these hauntings for the Psychical Society I should go into the most minute details; suffice it here to say, that during all this time every sort of investigation had been carried out by practical men and women, who had personally heard the disturbances, and who were keenly interested in the phenomena.
Rats were, of course, the first natural suggestion, but no one put forth this theory after having once, with their own ears, heard the disturbances. No one could advance any rational conclusion. The whole affair was baffling in the extreme.