Part 10

I LIVE in an ordinary little suburban house—one of a row of “boxes with lids on”—the approach to the upper storey being by a flight of twelve stairs and another flight of four stairs set at right angles to the first, a small bedroom being in the angle formed by the junction of the two. One night some six months ago, when passing this bedroom in the dark, I caught a momentary glimpse of the form of a man holding an axe in his right hand, his face bearing a highly malevolent expression. Not being at that time of a nervous disposition I dismissed the whole thing as imagination, but, on three separate occasions since, I have seen the same form, and always when passing that door in the dark I have the impression of having received a glancing blow on head and shoulder. Now the sequel to this is strange. I have ascertained that some years ago the then tenant of the house attacked his wife with an axe as she was descending the stairs, and she died from her injuries; he was confined in an asylum, where he died six months ago. The name of the road was then ——— Road; in consequence of the tragedy it was changed (as was then the common practice) to the more pretentious ——— Avenue, and only the older residents of the district recollect anything of the case. Can any of your readers tell me how to exorcise this “ghost,” for if it troubles me much more I shall be a fitting candidate for the institution where my ghostly friend ended his days.

SEEN IN THE MIRROR

A FEW years ago, I was sitting waiting for my husband to come home. It was nearly midnight and everything was quiet. I looked up to the mirror and saw an old grey-headed lady walking slowly across the room, from the middle door to the back door. When I turned to look at her she had gone. I sat a few minutes, dumbfounded, looking at the mirror, and she came again. This she repeated three times and then went for good. We could never keep a door locked at night. The doors have been locked and bolted and, then, in the morning have been found undone. People declared the house was haunted. After we left it no one would live in it, so it was pulled down.

A TRAGEDY RE-ENACTED

I AM not superstitious neither do I believe in ghosts, but the following tale may interest some of your readers.

Some time ago I used to stay at an old rectory in a Kentish village. The rectory stood in a beautiful garden joining the churchyard, and was approached by a carriage drive bordered by thick hedges and trees. The house was low, gloomy-looking and rambling, containing many rooms and winding passages and had three staircases, but it had been somewhat modernised. One room was supposed to be haunted.

I once slept in this room, but the ghost did not visit me; neither did I see or hear anything unusual. The room was a large one with two windows overlooking the carriage drive. A niece of the rector came on a visit and was given as a bedroom the haunted chamber. It was early autumn, a warm, beautiful moonlight night, not a leaf moving. The rector's niece had gone to her room, but wishing to finish a book, sat reading between the two open windows. Just as the church clock struck twelve, the door (which was fastened) opened. There was a sound of a scuffle, a rush past, a swish of skirts, a loud groan which seemed to end at the window, and a deep thud as if a heavy body had fallen. The window curtains, which were thick and heavy, blew straight out into the room.

At breakfast next day, the lady related her experience and was told she had seen, or rather heard the ghost. Other members of the family had had a similar experience. The story goes:

Many years ago a certain rector murdered his wife at midnight in this room, and threw the body out of the window.

At certain periods the lady's ghost is supposed to visit the scene of the murder.

A HARMLESS APPARITION

MANY years ago one of my workmates went to live in a house not more than five minutes walk from my address. One night, whilst he and his wife were sitting in the house, they noticed a hand draw aside the curtain, which hung at the middle door—the door near the pantry—and then there stood revealed to them an old lady who looked at them for a minute or so and vanished. One day they invited some of their relations to tea. After they had had the meal, a young man of the party got up from his chair and stood with his back to the fire-place, while the other members of the party were still sitting around the table talking. All at once, they noticed the hair on the young man’s head stand straight up, and there was a horror-stricken look on his face. He couldn't speak. He was looking past the table to the kitchen door. Every member of the party turned to look in that direction, and there stood the old lady revealed to all. My friend inquired of the neighbours as to who had lived in the house previous to him taking possession. They told him a young woman who was living in the next street. He went to see her and told her about the old lady whom he described. The young woman told him that it was her mother who had died in that house. He told the landlord about it, saying that the old lady seemed to come out of the pantry.

The landlord sent workmen who took up the flags in the pantry, and then replaced them. Since that was done the old lady has never reappeared. I asked my friends if they were not afraid of living in the house, but they both answered, “No, the old lady seemed harmless enough.” They are still living in the same house.

EVEN THE LANDLORD LEFT

I AM not interested in ghosts as a rule, but I was rather struck by the story of the brown lady of Raynham Hall. While reading of it, this incident came to my mind and it is just as true as uncanny.

When I was eleven years old we lived in Yorkshire and I was one of a large family. We had occasion to remove to a more convenient house. And as houses were very bad to get at that time, we thought we were very fortunate in securing a nice convenient place, without much trouble.

Strange to say, we had not lived in the house many weeks when, on returning home from school one day, I was amazed to find my mother quite prostrate on the couch. After I had attended to mother, she requested me to go upstairs and have a look round the rooms as she thought something had fallen out of place. Thinking nothing of it, I immediately went and examined all the rooms, but everything was in order. I was at a loss to understand mother's nervous breakdown.

When father and the rest of the family came in from business, mother told us that, after dinner, she had just got on the couch for a rest when she heard a terrific crash just as though the roof had fallen in. When she had recovered from the shock, she went out into the garden to look and make sure the roof had not collapsed. All was in order. A neighbour, seeing mother was ill, came to her assistance. We came to the conclusion that mother's nerves were weak and we tried to soothe her. But, strange to say, we were all sitting round the fire after supper, before going to bed, when we were all startled by an awful crashing noise. We were all speechless for a few minutes, the shock was so great. Then my father and brothers went and searched the place. After that the knockings and noises were so frequent that mother’s health broke down and we had to move.

Some weeks after, my father came in touch with the lady who had previously lived in the house, and this is the story she told:

The lady's husband worked night duty. One night her little girl, two-and-a-half years old, woke her up and said: “Look, mum! there is a man coming in our bedroom.” There, on the landing, the mother saw an old man coming towards the bedroom door. She was unable to move for some time, but, after a while, got up and lit the gas. Then, there was nothing to be seen. But the apparition appeared again later, and the noises were so unnerving that they had to leave the house. The story of the haunting was noised about so much that the house was rebuilt, and the landlord went to live there. Strange to say, he soon left the place. After all, one is bound to admit there must be something behind all this. Even to this day I shudder when I think of this incident.

TWO CURIOUS INCIDENTS

IT has always seemed to me that authentic psychic happenings are singularly inconsequent and bear no relation to their witnesses—except in the case of appearances of dead relatives. Two such irrelevant occurrences stand out in my memory.

Many years ago, when I was a young girl, I stayed in a large country house. This house was rented by my friends, and they knew no legends connected with it. It was symmetrical in design, but one of the windows on one side was blocked up, nor could any door be found by which one could enter the room corresponding to the blocked window.

My bedroom was underneath this mysterious chamber. For some nights nothing happened, but one evening just after the clock had struck twelve, a most extraordinary noise took place above my head. I can only compare it to the noise of sacks of coals being emptied. I sat up in bed terrified, too frightened to roam the large house by myself so late, and too terrified even to scream. The noise continued. Every minute I expected the ceiling to open and some spectre to alight on me. After what appeared to me an interminable time, the noise ceased and the clock struck one, so it had really lasted only an hour. Though I stayed on for some time longer, I never heard the sound again.

My other experience has a tinge of romance.

In the village where I lived there was a picturesque old farmhouse that legend said was a gift to Nell Gwynne by her royal lover. Whether there was any truth in this I cannot say, but it was said that on wet nights Nell haunted the lane passing her old dwelling place, and one could hear her high heels tapping behind one as one passed that way.

One evening I was dining with friends, and the son of the house walked home with me. He was a prosaic youth and believed in nothing he could not see. The night was wet and foggy. As we passed the haunted spot we both plainly heard the tap tap of the high heels belonging to the fair and frail lady.

He stopped and lit matches but nothing was to be seen and the footsteps stopped. As we went on the pursuing steps began again and continued till the road turned into another lane.

AN AWFUL EXPERIENCE

SOME years ago some new houses were being built near Durham, and, on completion, one of them was taken by a bachelor gentleman, who, apart from his sister going in daily to do his cooking, etc., lived quite alone. The night in question, I was sleeping in the next house when suddenly I was aroused by a loud hammering as though a bedstead was being taken down. It continued for some minutes, alternately stopping a second, and then going on again. I strained my ears to listen, until it ceased, then I heard the gentleman go downstairs and out into the street, closing the door behind him.

Next morning, I was surprised to see him removing his goods presumably to his sister's house. Seeing me standing at the door, he said, “Did you hear any noise from my bedroom last night?” I said, “Yes. Whatever were you doing?” He replied, “It was the most awful experience I've ever had, and I wouldn't stay there another night, so I’m moving out to-day.” “Whatever was the hammering?” I asked, and he told me that he had fallen asleep when he suddenly became conscious of some apparition in the room, although it was dark. Then blow after blow was made upon the bottom of the iron bed rail (just as I had heard it) and the bed shook each time it was battered. Thoroughly scared, he lay speechless, unable to move until the spectre vanished; then he got a light, slipped into his things and ran downstairs and out of the house to his sister's. On examination, no marks were found on the bedstead, and his story was confirmed, because I had heard the sounds next door, but no discovery was ever made regarding this unwelcome visitor.

ON THE YORKSHIRE MOORS

THE following is an accurate account of what occurred in a lonely house at a place called ... in Yorkshire on the moors and it goes to prove that ghosts do exist. My husband, when a boy, lived with his parents in this house which was on a hill surrounded by woods. They were warned before going there that the house was haunted, but being Christian people, laughed at the idea. However, they had not long to wait before strange things began to happen. Often when lying in bed they were awakened by hearing fearful noises downstairs, just as if someone was smashing all the china and furniture. On investigation, everything was found all right, but, while they were downstairs, the same noises took place upstairs. One evening when they were all sitting round the fire there came such a bang at the stair door as if someone was beating it down. They quite expected to see the door splintered, but it burst open intact and some vision flitted through the room. The dogs, usually afraid of nothing, crouched down in fear, and the girls fainted with fright. There were other similar instances which I could quote. Things got so bad the family were compelled to leave the house and I understand no one has lived there since.

FOOTSTEPS ON THE STAIRS

MY late husband and I took a small semi-detached house in Hertfordshire in 1911. One night in early autumn, we retired about 10:15, as usual, and slept soundly until 1:30, when we were both awakened by the sound of footsteps coming upstairs. My husband immediately switched on the light and we both sat up in bed, breathlessly watching the bedroom door which was fastened. The footsteps came nearer, a loose board on the landing creaked, and the door slowly opened. To our great surprise, no one entered. The door remained open, and the footsteps slowly retreated. My husband got up and searched all over the house and garden, but could find no trace of our visitor. So certain were we of someone coming in, that, in a sense, we should have been more satisfied had someone appeared, preferring to deal with the real, rather than the unreal. Both of us had splendid nerves, but were obliged to confess the occurrence left us very shaky. Shortly after, we were obliged to give up the house—a move which led to a series of misfortunes which resulted in the death of my husband three years ago.

IN DOUBT

IF anyone had asked me seven years ago the question “Do you believe in ghosts and haunted houses?” my answer would have been a very decided “No.” But now I don't know. For several years I have been living in a very old-fashioned cottage in a country village. Soon after settling here, both I and my husband were awakened night after night by strange noises, bumps as of something falling, sounds as of water dripping, and, most strange of all, every night at about the same time the latch of our stair-door would drop with a loud click as if someone had opened it hurriedly. Although we used to come down and search, everything was as usual, and nothing we could think of accounted for the sounds. Each night, on retiring, I would firmly shut the stair-door, but still the latch would be heard to drop, and several nights, while having a light burning (through having to tend a small baby) I have seen a shadow pass through the room and down the stairs. Then would come the dropping of the latch, but, however quickly I turned, or however long I watched, nothing appeared again the same night. We would gladly have moved, but, owing to the shortage of houses, it was impossible, and, in time, the sounds no longer startled us; we had to get used to them. Now, if we are awakened suddenly, my husband says, “It's only the ghost,” and we go to sleep again. But twice just lately I have lain awake and heard the latch drop as before and at the same time.

The other day my husband was talking to a very old inhabitant of our village—a man aged seventy-eight—who, upon hearing where we lived said, “Lor', my boy, that's the house my father used to live in, where the queer rows was, d'ye ever hear any now?”

What is the answer to the riddle of this old cottage, I wonder, ghosts or some other explanation? Anyhow I do know that during the next few months we shall gladly say “good-bye” to it and take possession of a new home, where I hope there will be nothing uncanny.

A MIDNIGHT INTERRUPTION

WHEN my aunt and I first came to reside in this town we rented for a short time a self-contained, furnished flat in one of the old houses here—one that had no doubt seen better days.

Our flat was the top one, having only unfurnished, and dilapidated attics above it, and was completely cut off from the lower tenants.

We used the attics as lumber rooms and, strangely enough, both of us felt an inexplicable feeling of horror when in them even in broad daylight.

My aunt and I occupied separate bedrooms, but always slept with our doors slightly ajar.

One night (it was somewhere about midnight) I was awakened by my aunt calling me. I ran into her room, which was next to mine, and found her sitting up in bed in terror, declaring that she had seen a dark figure standing by the bedside looking down at her. She had spoken, thinking that I had come to her for some reason, and had been horrified to find the figure fade away, and that she had to call me several times to awaken me from sleep in the other room. We could find no way to account for this, and next day were inclined to laugh at ourselves for our nervous terror. But, a few weeks after, I had a similar experience.

I was doing a piece of embroidery work as a gift for my aunt and, not wishing her to see it, and being rather pushed for time, after retiring to bed one night I re-lit my candle and sat up to continue my sewing. It was just about midnight and, after stitching away for a few minutes, I heard as I thought, my aunt moving in her room, come out of the door and along the passage. My bed was facing away from the door, but I turned my head and saw the door being pushed open. I then blew out the candle, not wishing her to see what I was doing. I heard her come in and stand behind me, and I said: “What's the matter? Is anything wrong?” On getting no reply, I again lit my candle and found no one in the room and everything silent. I went into my aunt’s room to find her fast asleep in bed.

Not being easily frightened, I started to work again the following night, but exactly the same thing occurred, and when, on the third night, this was again repeated, I made no further attempts at midnight sewing.

We could find no explanation whatever, and as it was during very calm weather, we could not attribute anything to the wind.

The tenants of the lower flats had no such experiences, but I feel sure that there was some strange and uncanny influence that proceeded from those attics and on occasion found their way into our flat. Fortunately we had taken the rooms for only a short time, and were glad to move to a different part of the town. We have never since experienced such a thing.

A HOUSE “TO LET”

WHEN I was a small child, my mother took a house near ———. As she could never sleep in a strange house for some days, she sat up in bed reading a novel. Suddenly she looked up from the book and saw, coming from the direction of the door, a female figure clad in a blue dressing gown, with loosened golden hair about her shoulders. The figure walked to the mantelpiece, took up a comb that was lying there, drew it through her hair, turned from the mantelpiece, walked towards the door and vanished. A few months after this my father died. Now, this house had been taken on a three years’ agreement, and my mother, after her bereavement, wished to leave, but the owner was not inclined to release her. Mother spoke to her about the apparition, and told her she could not stay. After breaking down, the unhappy woman said she knew this did occur at different times in the room mentioned, and she explained that the figure was that of her niece who was murdered by her own sister through jealousy, as she was combing her hair. The spirit had been “read down,” but did not rest. The murderess died in an asylum. My mother was released from her agreement on a promise not to tell a possible tenant.

Since then I have passed the house many times, and at intervals have seen the “To Let” board in the garden.

WORRIED ABOUT THE DEEDS OF THE HOUSE

A FEW years ago my friend had to remove to another town owing to her husband's work.

She was fortunate enough to get a very pretty, compact house just outside, and felt very proud of the fact, as houses just then were very scarce.

This friend, by the way, was very strong minded, and did not know the meaning of nerves.

After she had been in the house a couple of weeks she was sleepless, after having teeth extracted, and hadn't even dozed when she saw what she described as a venerable old gentleman, with long, white beard and bent shoulders, standing close by the side of the bed with a document of some kind in his hand.

She awoke her husband and described what had taken place, but he only laughed and said it was nightmare after too heavy a supper.

So on the second occasion that the same thing happened she refrained from telling him, as she didn't like being ridiculed.

But the strain of doing so must have told on her, as, after the third time she saw the vision, her husband found her in a state of collapse.