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1 



TWENTY YEARS' EXPERIENCE AS A 

GHOST HUNTER 



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Twenty Years' Experience 
as a Ghost Hunter 



ELLIOT O'DONNELL 



A.TITHOK OV "THB 30KCBKY CI,I7B, ' 

" 90KB EAUMTED HOUSES OF EMGLAMI) AND 

"HAmreSD HIGHWAYS," BTC., BIC. 



WITH ILLPSTRATlOl^ BY 
PHYLUM V^BXM. d^PSElL 



H. C. B£VAN-PBTMAN 



HEATH, CRANTON, LTD. 
FI^ET I^ANE, I^ONDON 



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» ♦ 

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Birtt Publuhed, Novmnh^r, 1016. 
Seeond Bdition, February, }9i7. 



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AUTHOR'S NOTE 



In presenting tMs volume of ghostly reminis- 
cences to the Public I would lay stress on the fact 
that, in order to avoid the danger of incurring an 
action for slander or libel, I have — save where 
expressedly stated to the contrary — resorted to the 
use of fictitious names for all persons and houses. 
For the reproduction of one or two articles I am 
indebted to the courtesy of Mr. Ralph Shirley. 

ELLIOT O'DONNELL* 
1»16. 



^5:^:303 



CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. I COMMENCE MY GHOSTLY INVESTIGA- 
TIONS IN DUBLIN • . .11 

II. I AM PURSUED BY PHANTOM FOOTSTEPS 28 

IIL Some strange cases in Scotland • 84 

IV. I TRAVEL ACROSS THE UNITED STATES 
AND DO SOME GHOST HUNTING IN 
SAN FRANCISCO . . .49 

y. A HAUNTED OFFICE IN DENVER • 58 

YI. Cases of hauntings in st. louis, 

NEW YORK, AND CHICAGO . • 69 

YII. A haunted wood, and a haunted 

QUARRY IN CANADA . • .86 

Yin. Hauntings in the east end . . 105 

IX. Night ramblings on wimbledon 

COMMON and HOUNSLOW HEATH • 122 

X. My views on a future life for the 

ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE WORLDS • 186 

XI. A HAUNTING IN REGENT's PARK, AND 

my further views with regard to 
spiritualism • . • • 148 



XII. A HAUNTED MINE IN WALES 

XIII. The pool in wales that lures 

PEOPLE to death 

XIV. I GO on WITH the history OF MY LIFE 
AND NARRATE A GHOSTLY HAPPENING 
IN LIVERPOOL • 

XV. Some strange cases in Birmingham 

HARROGATE, SUSSEX AND NEWCASTLE 

XVI. War ghosts 

XVn. A CASE FROM JAPAN 



159 



169 



188 

194 
206 
228 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



VACOfO 
PAOB 

1 " We both looked in the direction he 

indicated " . . . • . . . . 89 

2 ** Who is that tall, good-looking girl, 

stella, that i've seen following you 
into the building . . . . " . . 6s 

8 " But there are other ghosts — ^if you like 
. to term them so — that are more trouble- 
SOME " . . . . . . . . 82 

4 "I looked up, just in time TO SEE THE GIRL 

flash me a look of subtle warning " 94 

5 " The thing came right up to the window, 

and then raised its face " . . . . 101 

6 " What gives me the worst fright is a 

xRIUXj ••• •• •• •• •• XvJL 

7 ** My god ! there's dick ! He's just behind 

YOU " . • . . . • • . IW 

8 * I SUDDENLY CAUGHT SIGHT OF A LARGE EYE " 205 



« • • • • 



Twenty Years' Experience 
as a Ghost Hunter 



CHAPTER I 

I dOMMENCE MY GHOSTLY INVESTIGATIONS IN DUBLIN 

In starting a book of this sort, I believe it is usual to 
say something about one's self. 

I was bom in the 'seventies. My father came from 
Coimty Limerick, and belonged to the Truagh Castle 
O'Donnells, who, tracing their descent from Shane 
Luirg, the elder brother of Niall Garbh, the ancester 
of Red Hugh, rightly claim to be the oldest branch of 
the great clan. He graduated at Trinity College, 
Dublin, was for some time vicar of a parish near 
Worcester, and died in Egypt, under mysterious and 
much discussed circumstances,* soon after I came into 
the world. 

My mother was English ; she belonged to an old 
Midland family, and only survived my father a few 
years. 

Although I am generally known as a ghost hunter, 
needless to say it was not for such a career that I was 
educated, first of all at Clifton College, then at an 
Army crammer's, and finally at Chedwode Crawley's 
well-known coaching establishment in Ely Place, Dublin. 
There I read for the Royal Irish Constabulary, and, 
attending regularly, remained for a little over two 

•See "The Oriental Zig-zag." by C. Hamilton. 



.1? . EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

years. I can safely say these two years were two of 
the happiest I have ever known, for my companions tX 
that time were the nicest set of fellows I have ever met, 
and amongst them I formed many lifelong friendships. 

When I was not working, I usually spent my time 
playing football or cricket, to both of which sports I 
was devoted, and, when I was not thus engaged, I used 
to tramp across hill and dale continually exploring the 
country in search of adventure. 

But in those days I did not look for ghosts — ^they 
came to me ; they came to me then, as they had come 
to me before, and as they have come to me ever since. 

With my early experiences of the Unknown — ^which 
experiences, by the way, extend over the whole period 
of my youth — I have dealt fully in former works ; so 
that in this volume I propose to confine myself to later 
experiences, commencing approximately with my dibut 
as an investigator of haunted houses and superphysical 
occurrences in general 

To begin with, however, let me state plainly that I 
lay no claims to being what is termed a scientific 
psychical researcher. I am not a member of any august 
society that conducts its investigations of the other 
world, or worlds, with test tube and weighing apparatus ; 
neither do I pretend to be a medium or consistent 
clairvoyant. 

I am merely a ghost hunter ; merely one who honestly 
believes that he inherits in some degree the faculty of 
psychic perceptiveness from a long line of Celtic ances- 
try; and who is, and always has been, deeply and 
genuinely interested in all questions relative to phan- 
tasms and a continuance of individual life after physical 
dissolution. Moreover, in addition to this psychic 
faculty, I possess, as I have already hinted, a spirit of 
adventure ; and since this spirit is irresistible, had I 
not decided to become a ghost hunter, I should doubtless 
have embarked upon some other and hardly less exciting 
pursuit. 



EPXERIENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 13 

The actual cause of my decision to adopt ghost* 
hunting as a profession was an experience which befel 
me in the summer of '92. I was at that time a student 
in Ely Place, Dublin, and being in search of rooms, was 
recommended to try a house within a stone's throw of 
the Waterloo Road. 

A widow named Davis, with two leviathan daughters, 
Mona and Bridget, ran the establishment, and as the 
vacant apartments were large, apparently well ventilated 
and exceedingly moderate in price, I decided to take 
them. Consequently, I arrived there with my luggage 
one afternoon, and was speedily engaged in the tiring 
and somewhat irritating task of unpacking. 

When I retired to rest that first night, I certainly had 
no thought of ghosts or anything in connection with 
them ; on the contrary, my mind was wholly occupied 
with speculations as to how I should fare in the coming 
weekly examination at Crawley's, whether the extra 
attention I had recently bestowed on mathematics would 
be of any service to me, or whether, in spite of it, I 
should again occupy my place at the bottom of the 
class. I remember thinking, however, as I blew out the 
light and turned into bed, that there was something 
about the room now — ^though I could not tell what — 
that I had not noticed by daylight ; but I soon went 
to sleep, and although I awoke several times before 
morning — ^a phenomenon in itself — ^I cannot say that I 
thought then of any superphysical element in the 
atmosphere. It was not until I had been there several 
nights that the event occurred which effectually shaped 
my future career. 

One evening the two girls, Mona and Bridget, were 
making so much racket in the room beneath me, that 
I found work impossible, and being somewhat tired, for 
I had stuck very close to it all day, I resolved to go to 
bed. On my way thither I encountered two young men, 
T.C. students, who were also lodging in the house, hotly 
engaged in an argument ; and they appealed to me to 



14 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

express an opinion. I told them what I thought, as 
they followed me upstairs ; then, when I reached my 
room, I abruptly bade them good-night, and, entering, 
locked the door behind me. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I quietly slipped 
off my clothes and put out the light. The two men 
were still haranguing one another for all they were 
worth when I got in between the sheets and prepared 
to lie down. The room was not entirely dark ; from 
between the folds of the thick plush curtains that 
enveloped the windows stray beams from the powerful 
moonlight filtered through and battled their way to the 
foot of the bed. I was looking at them with some 
degree of curiosity, when I saw something move. I 
glanced at it in astonishment, and, to my unmitigated 
horror, the shape of something dark and sinister rose 
noiselessly from the floor and came swiftly towards me. I 
tried to shout, but could not make a sound. I was com- 
pletely paralysed, and as I sat there, sick with fear and 
apprehension, the thing leaped on to me, and, gripping 
me mercilessly by the throat, bore me backwards 

I gasped, and choked, and suffered the most excruciat- 
ing pain. But there was no relaxation — ^the pressure of 
those bony fingers only tightened and the torture went on 
At last, after what seemed to me an eternity, there was a 
loud buzzing in my ears, my head seemed to spin round 
violently, and my brain to burst. I lost consciousness. 
On coming to, I found that my assailant had left me. I 
struck a light. My fellow-lodgers were still going at one 
another hammer and tongs — ^and the door was, as I had 
left it, locked on the inside. I searched the room thor- 
oughly; the window was bolted; there was nothing in the 
cupboard ; nothing under the bed ; nothing anywhere. 
I got into bed again, full of the worst anticipations, and, 
if sleep came to me, it was only in the briefest snatches. 

At dawn the room became suffused with a cold, grey 
glow, and the suggestion of something horribly evil 
standing close beside the bed and sardonically watching 



s. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER IS 

me impressed me so strongly that, yielding to a sudden 
impulse of terror, I hid my head under the bed-clothes, 
and remained in that undignified position till the 
morning was well advanced and I was ^* called." 

I got up, feeling downright ill, and although the 
sunlight metamorphosing everything now made the 
mere thought of a ghost simply ludicrous, I hurried out 
of the room as speedily as possible* Nor did I venture to 
pass another night there. 

My landlady did not demur when I asked her to 
transfer me to another apartment, and later, before I 
took my final departure from her house, she confessed to 
me that it was haunted. She believed that it had been 
used as a private home for mentally afiiicted people, and 
that someone, either one of the patients or a nurse — she 
did not know which — ^had died, under extremely painful 
circumstances, in the room I had first occupied. 

The Davises left the house soon after I did, and who 
lives there now, and whether the hauntings still continue, 
I cannot say. When I last made enquiries, about two 
years ago, I learned that the then occupants had never 
admitted experiencing anything unusual, but that they 
always kept the room in which I had undergone the 
sensations of strangulation carefully locked. 

This adventure of mine, intensely unpleasant as it had 
been at the time, profoundly interested me. Hitherto I 
had placidly accepted as truth all the dogmas of religion 
hurled at me from the pulpit and drilled into me at 
school, for the simple reason that I had always been 
taught to regard as infinitely correct and absolutely 
above criticism all that the clergy told me : God made 
the world, they said, and all the laws and principles- 
appertaining to it — ^that was sufficient — ^I need not ask 
any questions. When I looked about me and saw men, 
and women, dogs, horses, and other animals suffering 
indescribable agonies from all kinds of foul and malignant 
diseases ; when I encountered cripples, the maimed and 
blind, idiots and lunatics ; or read in the papers of 



16 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

swindles, murders and suicides ; or noted how, through- 
out nature, the strong animals prey upon the weak; 
how, for example, the tiger, the lion and the leopard 
terrorize the jungle, just as the shark and octopus 
terrorize the sea, and the wasp and spider, centipede and 
scorpion terrorize insect life (being furnished respectively 
with weapons for tearing and rending, and sucking the 
flesh, and entailing the most excruciating tortures on the 
nerve centres) ; when, I say, I noted all this, I was 
given to understand that I must on no account com- 
ment upon it — ^to do so was impious and wicked — 
I must abide by the precept of my pastor and pedagogue, 
namely, that '^ God is almighty and merciful, loving 
and wise." 

But now it was different — ^I was no longer in the 
schoolroom, no longer under the immediate influence of 
the Church. I met people in Dublin imbued with the 
broader instincts of a big, cosmopolitan community ; I 
listened to their reasoning — reasoning which at first 
immeasurably shocked me, and afterwards struck me as 
horribly sane. Then, at this crisis, came the incident of 
the strangling. I tried to attribute it to a dream, but I 
was prevented by the fact that I had only just got into 
bed, luid had not even lain down, when the figure seized 
me. Hence, I could only conclude that some spirit — ^the 
nature of my suffering and the horror it inspired leading 
me to suppose that it was a particularly evil one — had 
been my aggressor. 

But why was it not in Hell ? Had it escaped in spite of 
the strict supervision of the Almighty ? Or could it be 
possible that the orthodox Paradise and Purgatory did 
not exist, and that the spirits of the dead were allowed 
to wander about at ill ? I became interested — deeply 
so ; all sorts of wild speculations floated through my 
mind ; I resolved to enquire further. 

I would not be guided by any creed ; I would set out 
on my work of investigation wholly unbiassed ; I would 
gain whatever knowledge there was to be gained of 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 17 

another world without the aid either of priest or oecultift, 
medium or sdeutist. 

Several of my friends in Dublin were greatly interested 
in ghosts, and I learned from them of two houses that 
had long borne the reputation of being haunted. One 
was dose to St. Stephen's Green, within sight of the 
Queen's Service Academy, and the other, a big, ugly 
edifice of a dingy grey, was in BlacfcrodL I had stayed 
in the former when a child, and had vivid recollections 
of the holes in the stone stairs, through which boiling oil 
was poured on the heads of the English soldiers at the 
time of the '98. 

There ware many large and stately rooms in the house, 
oak*panelled and beautified throughout with much 
carving. I remember looking with awe and perplexity at 
the number of odd shadows that used to put in an 
appearance on the stairs and in the passages, just when 
it was my bed-time, but I did not then attribute them to 
ghosts. I simply did not know what they were. I heard 
sounds, too—Hdangs and clashes, and footsteps tramping 
up and down the stairs ; sounds I did not attempt to 
analyse, possibly because I dared not. That was in 1886 ; 
I was then a small boy, and now — now only—after I had 
long left the house, and was back in Dublin, with the 
experience of the strangling ghost still fresh in my mind, 
I began to wonder whether these strange sounds and 
shadows might not have been due to the presence of the 
Superphysical. I mentioned the matter to my friends, 
and they expressed astonishment that I had not heard 
the house was haunted. One of them, a lady, told me 
that she had once stayed there and had been awakened 
every night by the sounds I had described — ^the sounds of 
heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs, of cries and groans, 
shrieks and oaths, coupled with the dashing of scabbards 
and sword blades, and the sound as of falling bodies 

Tet nothing was ever to be seen, saving the moonHght 
and shadows — plenty of shadows-Hshadows strangely 
su{g;estive of grotesque and fandfully dad people I 



18 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

tried to obtain permission to sleep in the house, and in 
my innocence of the ways of landlords, I stated with the 
most pathetic candour my true intention — ^I wanted to 
investigate. The reply I got was certainly not courteous, 
neither did it permit of argument. Hence, feeling con- 
siderably crestfallen and humiliated, I found myself 
forced to give up my first attempt at ghost-hunting. 

Then I turned my attention to the house in Blackrock, 
and fared no better. The landlord had been bothered to 
death with requests to spend nights there, and was 
endeavouring to discover the originator of the report 
that the place was haunted, in order that he mi^t 
bring an action for Slander of Title. Consequently I could 
only examine the house from the outside, hoping that its 
ghostly inhabitants would one night take pity on me and 
exhibit themselves at one of the windows. But in this, 
too, I was disappointed; although, as the place invariably 
inspired me with the greatest dread, I have no doubt 
whatever but that it was genuinely iuidl)adly haunted. 

There were several stories in circulation in Dublin 
about that time concerning the nature of the haunting, 
and the following — one of the most reliable — ^was told me 
by a Mrs. Blake. I will give it as nearly as I can in her 
own words : 

When I was a child of about twelve," she began, 

which was a good many years ago, my father, who was 
then stationed in Dublin, took the house on a three 
years* lease, at a very low rental, due, so the owner 
stated, to the fact that there were far too many stairs, a 
feature to which most people, on account of their 
servants, strongly objected. Nothing was said about 
ghosts, and nothhxg was further from my pctrents' minds 
when they took possession. We moved in towards the 
end of July, but it was not until the middle of September 
that we first became aware that the house was haunted. 
It happened in this way : My father and the maids were 
out one evenmg, and only my mother, my small brother 
and I were in the house. It was about eight o'clock. I 



(4 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 19 

was upstairs in the nursery reading to Teddy, and my 
mother was in the drawing-room, two storeys beneath. 
I was just in the middle of a sentence, when Teddy 
interrupted me. * Did you hear that ? ' he exclaimed ; 
^ it's someone on the stairs. I believe they are listening.' 
I paused, and heard a loud creak. ^ Who can it be ? ' I 
said ; ' there's only mother in the house ! ' Much 
mystified, I closed the book and went out on to the 
landing. No one was there ; but when I got to the head 
of the stairs, I heard a loud scream, and then a dull thud, 
just as if someone had fallen. In an agony of mind I ran 
downstairs to see what had happened. As I arrived in 
the hall, the door of the drawing-room was slowly 
' opened, and I saw, peeping cautiously out, a white face 

with two dark, gleaming, obliquely-set eyes, that filled 
with an expression of the most diabolical hatred as they 
i met mine. I was so terrified that I started back some 

f paces, and, as I did so, the door opened a little wider, and 
' the figure of a short, elderly woman, clad in an old- 

fashioned black dress, and white cap crumpled closely 
round her lean, haggard face, glided out, and, passing by, 
ascended the stairs. As she came to the first bend, she 
turned, and looking down at me with an evil leer, shook 
her hand menacingly at me. She then passed out of 
sight, and I heard her climb the stairs, step by step, till 
she came to the nursery landing. A moment later, and 
Teddy gave a violent shriek. 

** My terror was now so great that I think I should have 
gone mad had I been left there any longer by myself ; 
but, by a merciful providence, a key turned in the lock of 
the front door, and my father entered. The sight of his 
well-known figure on the threshold at once loosened the 
spell that had bound me, and with a cry pf delight I 
clutched him by the arms, imploring him to see at once 
what had happened to mother and Teddy. 

" He ran into the drawing-room first and found my 
mother on the floor, just reviving from a faint. Lighting 
the gas, he fetched her some brandy, and then, bidding 



\ 



X 



20 EXPERIENGSS AS A GHOST HUNTER 

me stay with her, he hastened upstairs to Teddy. Ihe 
latter was very badly frightened, and it was some days 
before he was well enough to give anything like a 
coherent account of what had happened. Of course, 
mother and father told Teddy that the queer figure they 
had seen was some friend of the servants, who had called 
while they were out, but I suppose they deemed me dd 
enough to know the truth, for they discussed the incident 
openly in my presence. It appears that my mother had 
been quietly knitting in the drawing-room, when she 
suddenly felt very cold, and rising from her chair, with 
the intention of closing the door, found herself confronted 
by a hideous form. Subsequently, my father made a 
thorough search of the house, but he found no one, and as 
all the windows were fastened and the doors locked on 
the inside, we could only come to the conclusion that the 
figure my mother and Teddy and I had all seen was a 
ghost. A few days later it appeared to my father. He was 
coming out of his bedroom, when he saw a woman steal 
stealthily out of a room on the same landing and creep 
downstairs in front of him. There was something about 
her so intensely sinister that he felt chilled ; but, deter- 
mining to find out who she was, he followed her, and 
catching her up, demanded her name. There was a chuck- 
Ijing answer, the figure instantly disappeared, andanumber 
of invisible somethings clattered down the stairs past him. 

** I think my father was very seared ; at all events he 
came into the breakfast-room with a very white face and 
ate hardly anything. Some time after this, when the 
autumn was well advanced, my uncle came to stay with 
us. He was a jolly, rollicking sailor, who had fought the 
Turks at Navarino, and had had many exciting adven- 
tures with Chinese pirates. 

** No one told him the house was haunted ; it was 
decided he should find that out for himself. One after- 
noon, several days after his arrival, he was taking off his 
boots in a room in the basement, when a current of icy 
air blew in on him, and, on raising his eyes to see whence 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 21 

^e draught came, he perceived an extraordinarily pretty 
girl, dad in a dark green riding-habit, such as he believed 
were worn in the days of his great grand-parents, standing 
in the doorway, watching him intently. ^ This is one of 
Jack's surprises ' (Jack was my father), he said to 
himself, * and a deuced pleasant one, too t The rogue, 
he knows nothing pleases me so much as the sight of a 
pretty girl, and, by Jove, she is pretty ! ' Springing to 
his feet — t<a my uncle was never bashful in the presence 
of the fair sex — he advanced to shake hands. To his 
chagrin, however, she promptly turned round, and, 
walking swiftly away, began to ascend the stairs. My 
imcle followed her. On »id on she led him till she came 
to the drawing-room ; there she paused, and with the 
forefinger of her left hand on her lips, glanced coyly 
round at bim. She then quietly turned the door handle, 
and signalling to him to follow, stole into the room cm 
tiptoe. Charmed with this piece of acting, the naivety of 
it appealing very strongly to his susceptible nature, my 
uncle hastened after her. The moment he crossed the 
threshold, however, he recoiled. Standing in the middle 
(rf the room was an old woman with a hideous, white face 
and black, leering eyes. There were no signs anywhere 
of the young and beautiful lady. She had completely 
vanished. My uncle was so shocked by the spectacle 
before bim that he retreated on to the landing, and, as he 
did so, the drawing-room door swung to with a loud 
crash. He called my father^ and they entered the room 
together ; but it was quite empty, the old hag had dis*' 
appeared as inexplicably as the girL That evening there 
was to be a party, and the table in the dining-room 
groaned beneath the weight of one of those inimitable 
* spreads,' in vogue some fifty or sixty years ago. With 
somewhat pardonable pride my mother took us all — ^my 
father, uncle and myself —to have a peep at it, before the 
guests arrived. As we drew near the room, we heard, to 
our astonishment, the plaintive sound of a spinet. My 
mother instantly drew back, trembling, whereupon my 



22 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

unde, forcing a laugh, said, ^ This is one of the occasions 
upon which a gentleman should go first.' He threw open 
the door as he spoke, and we all peered in. What I saw 
will never be effaced from my memory. The room 
exhibited a complete lyreckage — ^the cloth was half oft 
the table, the massive silver candlesticks were over- 
turned, and the floor was strewn with piles of broken 
glass, china and eatables — everything was smashed and 
ruined. In the midst of the debris, her face turned 
towards us, lay a very beautiful girl. There were im- 
mistakable evidences of a ghastly wound, but her eyes 
were partly open, and the strange light which gleamed 
from their blue depths revealed an expression which 
could only have been hatched in hell — a hell, peopled not 
with passive torture-torn sufferers, but with wholly 
abandoned beings actively engaged in licentiousness and 
everything that is destructive and antagonistic to man's 
moral and mental progress. Standing over the woman, 
and holding a kind of stiletto in his hand, was a tall, fair 
man, in whose agonised and remorseful features we 
recognised at once a most startling likeness to my uncle. 
No detail was wanting — ^there was the deep scar on the 
temple, the curiously deep dimple in the chin ; indeed^ 
saving for the old-fashioned clothes, no likeness could 
have been more exact. Standing by his side, her hideous, 
scowling face thrust forward, her evil eyes glaring at us 
with the same vindictive insolence, was the old woman I 
had seen that night in the hall. Then, my father, 
uttering some exclamation, crossed himself, and, as he 
did so, the figures abruptly vanished, whilst the whole 
house echoed and re-echoed with loud peals of mocking, 
diabolical laughter. That was the finale ; we left imme- 
diately afterwards, and from that day to this the house, 
I believe, has stood almost uninterruptedly empty." 

This is the gist of Mrs. Blake's account of the happen- 
ings, and as I never found her anything but strictly 
truthful, I believe them to have been given me without 
any conscious exaggeration. 



CHAPTER n 



I AH PUBSUED BT PHANTOM FOOTSTBH 




Bkfors I left the west of Ireland, I set out one day to 
investigate a case of haunting by fairies, which was 
alleged to take place nightly at the junction of four cross ^-^ ^7 

roads on the southern slope of the Wicklow mountains. 

I found a spot that seemed to correspond with the 
description of the scene of the haunting given me by my 
informant, and kept a vigil there for two consecutive 
nights without e:q)eriencing any of the anticipated 
results* However, I intended giving the place another 
trial, and accordingly set out ; but when within half a 
mile or so of my destination, I began to feel very tired, 
and having a bad cold on me besides, I decided to put 
up at a cottage I espied a short distance off, instead of 
pursuing my way further. 

The cottage stood a little back from the main. road, 
perhaps a hundred yards or so, and was connected with it 
by a narrow lane. The situation was one of intense lone- 
liness ; the nearest village was a good two miles away, 
and few people, other than occasional cyclists, ever 
passed along the high road after nightfall. At the time 
I am speaking of, the cottage was tenanted by a couple 
named MuUins. The man was a drover, and his wife 
one of the tallest women I have ever seen ; she possessed, 
moreover, a pair of green-grey eyes, and these were 



24 £XPERI£NGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

remarkable, not only for their curious colouring, but for 
the impression they gave one that they were perpetually 
trying not to see too much. Apart from these peculiari- 
ties, she seemed ordinary enough, and I felt I was in the 
house of very worthy and hard-working people. 

I went to bed early and was given the only spare room 
in the cottage. It faced the front and was inmiediately 
over the tiny parlour. As the linen was spotless and felt 
thoroughly dry, I had no scruples about getting in 
between the sheets, and, stretching myself out, I was 
soon fast asleep. 

I awoke with violent palpitations of the heart to find 
the room bathed with moonlight ; and, as all was abso- 
lutely silent, I concluded it must be far on into the 
night. Suddenly I heard footsteps — footsteps in the 
distance, running at a well-regulated pace. They rang 
out sharp and clear in the still air, and gradually became 
mote and more distinct. I was wondering who the 
person could be, out at such an hour, when a dog, appar- 
ently in the yard at the back of the house, set up the 
most unearthly howling. The next moment I heard Mrs. 
Mullins speak, and, inadvertently, I listened. 

^* John," she said, ** do you hear the dog ? '* 

** I should be deaf and dumb if I didn't," Mullins 
replied sleepily. ** What is it ? " 

^^ What is it, indeed I Why the dog never barks like 
that unless there is a spirit about. Do you remember 
those knocks on the door the night Unde Mike died, and 
how the dog howled then ? There's something of the 
same sort about to-night. Listen I " 

The steps very were near now. I listened intently. 
The runner, I thought, must be wearing very extra*' 
ordinary boots, for every step, so it seemed to me, was 
accompanied by a peculiar and almost metallic dick. 

^* John," Mrs. Mullins suddenly resumed, ^^ do you hear 
those steps ? What are they ? It's the first time in my life 
I've heard anyone running along the high road like that 
at this time of night. Harkt They've got to the turning 



BXPBRIBNGBS AS A GHOST HUNTER 25 

-^-tt^ey're in the lane — they're eoming here 1 Get up at 
once ; go and bolt the front door. The thing's evil— evil, 
I'm sure, aiad it's someone of us here it's after." 

The steps grew rapidly nearer, and MuUins, stumUing 
hastily down the stairs, bolted both the doors and swung 
to the little wooden shutters. A moment later, and I 
heard the 8tep« oome right up to the door. There was a 
momentary pause, then a series of terrific knocks. 

^^ Cross yourself, John; for God's sake cross yourself I" 
Mrs. Mullins cried. ^^ And may the Holy Virgin protect 
us." She then started praying loudly and vehemently, 
and, whether it was the effect of her prayers or not, the 
knocking gradually diminished in violence, and then 
ceased altogether. 

^' Come on up, John," Mrs. Mullins called out ; ^' the 
thing, whatever it is, has ceased troubjiing us, and we 
may go to sleep in peace." 

Mullins, needing no second bidding, joined his wife^ 
and once again the whole place was wrapped in silence. 

I must confess that, whilst the knocking continued, I 
had no desire whatever to look out of the window, but 
the moment it was over 1 got up and peered out. I could 
see right down the lane and for some distance along the 
hi^ road. 

There was no sign of anyone or anything that could in 
any way account for the disturbance — ^the landscape was 
brilliantly illuminated with moonlight, every stick and 
stone being plainly visible, and all natiu*e seemed to be 
sleeping undisturbedly, as if no interruption in its 
ordinary routine had occurred. I got back into bed, and, 
falling into a gentle doze^ slept soundly till the mcMming. 
After breakfast^ Mrs. Mullins said, ^' You're not thinking 
of spending another night here, sir, are you ? " 

** Why, no," I replied. " I must be back in Dublin at 
my work by this afternoon." 

^* I'm glad of that, sir," she went on ; ^^ because I 
couldn't let you stay. I suppose you heard the rapping, 
sir ? " 



26 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

^^ I did/' I replied ; ^' and the footsteps — how do you 
account for them ? " 

" Only in one way,'* she said ; ** they came alter you. 
At least, that was my impression, and my impressions are 
seldom wrong. I seemed to see some terrible f orm---haIf 
animal and half human — something indescribably 
grotesque and unnatural — something, my instinct telb 
me, was wanting to get at you.'' 

Her description of the figure reminded me so strongly 
of the queer thing that tried to strangle me in the house 
near the Waterloo Boad, that I narrated my experience 
to her. 

^^ You may depend upon it, sir," she said when I had 
finished, ^^ that the ghost you have just told me about 
and the one that came to the cottage last night are the 
same. I have heard that spirits will sometimes attach 
themselves to persons who have been staying in the 
house they haunt, and that they will leave the house with 
them and follow them wherever they go. I only hope 
and trust that this one will never do you any harm, and 
that you will succeed in ridding yourself of it, but my 
husband and I feel, asking your pardon, that we should 
not like to have you sleep here again." 

I did not tell her that even had she been willing, 
nothing on earth would have induced me to stay, for 
whether she was right in her theory about the steps or 
not, the neighbourhood had lost all its charms for me. 
Indeed, when next I had a ghostly visitation, I hoped I 
should be quartered in a less isolated spot. 

My aunt, Mrs. Meta O'DonneU, tells me that a rdative 
of hers once had a remarkable encounter with fairies on 
the road between Ballinanty and the village of Hospital 
in County liim^ck. 

He was driving home one evening in his jaunting car, 
unaccompanied save by his servant, Dunkley, who was 
sitting with his back to him, when a number of little 
people — fairies — sprang on the ear, and clambering up, 
tried to pull him off. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 27 

Finding that» owing to the vigour with which they 
pulled, he was actually slipping from his seat, he appealed 
to his servant for assistance ; and the latter, doing as he 
was told, held on to him with all his strength, and thus 
prevented the little people from dragging him to the 
ground. BIrs. Meta O'Donnell is absolutely sure that 
her relative never took stimulants of any sort, and that 
he was in a perfectly normal state of mind when this 
event happened. 

Nor is this road haimted only by fairies, for Mrs. Meta 
O'Donnell again tells me that this same relative of hers^ 
when driving home on another occasion — ^this time witii 
several friends — saw a man on horseback, in a hunting 
coat, suddenly leap the hedge, and, after riding for some 
distance by the side of the car, abruptly vanish. Two of 
the men who were with him, she believes, also witnessed 
this phenomenon. 

It is a long step, seemingly, from the fairy to the 
buishee, but these two types of spirit have at least one 
trait in common, namely, exclusiveness ; and the banshee, 
even more emphatically than the fairy, will have nought 
to do with the alien. It will attach itself only to the 
family of bona-fide Irish origin, only to the clan that has 
been associated with Irish soil for many generation. . 

With the kind permission of Mr. Ralph Shirley, I will 
here introduce, making only slight alterations, a few 
extracts from an article of mine on the banshee, which 
appeared in the *^ Occult Review " for September, 1918 : 

^^ Contemporary with fairies and the Feni, phantoms 
typical of the great lone hills of Wicklow and Connemara, 
and of the bare and wind-bitten cliffs of Galway, may well 
have been the banshees, which, attaching themselves for 
divers reasons to various chieftains and sons of chieftains, 
eventually became recognised as family ghosts or 
familiars. 

** Many people have fallen in the error of imagining alt 
banshees are moulded after one pattern. Nothing could 
be more fallacious. The banshee of the O'Rourkes, tor 



28 BXPERIBNQSS AS A GHOST HUNTBR 

e^cainple» does not resemble that of the O'Donnells; 
there are many forms of the banshee, each clan having a 
distinct one— or more than one-^-of its own. Some of 
the banshees are fair to look at, and some old, and foul, 
and terrifying ; but their mission is invariably the same, 
e., to announce a death or some great family 
catastrophe. 

** The banshee is never joyous ; it is always either sad 
or malevolent. Sometimes it wails once, sometimes three 
times — the waO in some degree, but not altogether, 
resembling that of a woman in great trouble or agony ; 
sometimes, again, it groans ; ai^d sometimes it sighs, or 
sings. In some clans the demonstrations are both 
visual and auditory, in others only visual ; and in 
others, again, only auditory. There is no really old dan 
but has its banshee, and few members of that clan who 
are not, at some time or other of their lives, made aware 
<rf it. 

** How well I recollect as a child being told by those 
who had experienced it, that a dreadful groaning and 
wailing had been heard the night prior to the death of a 
very near relative of mine in Africa. I enquired what 
made the wailing, and was informed * the banshee,' or 
the ghost woman, who never fails to announce the death 
of an O'Donnell. 

** Years later, when in the extreme West of England, 
my wife and I were awakened one night by a terrible wail, 
which sounded just outside our door. Beginning in a 
low key, it rose and rose, until it ended in a shrill scream, 
that in time died away in a horrible groan. The idea of 
the banshee at once flashed through my mind, for I felt 
none other but a banshee could have made such a sounds 

*^ Still, to satisfy my wife, I jumped out of bed and 
went on to the landing ; all was dark and silent, and 
outside their bedrooms were assembled the rest of the 
household, terrified, and eager to have an explanation of 
what had happened. We searched the whole house and 
the waste land outside, but there was nothing whidi 



EXPBRIENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 29 

could in any way account for the noise, and in the 
morning I received news at the death of someone very 
dofidy related to me. • • . Whilst some writers are 
inclined to treat the subject jocularly, and attribute the 
banshee either to obviously absurd physical causes, or to 
the abnormally imaginative powers they insist are the 
birthright of ell Irishmen, others dive into the pseudo- 
profound compilations of modem Theosophy, and re- 
appear with the pronouncement that banshees are not 
spirits at all — not entities hailing from the superphysical 
world — but mere thought germs, created by some 
remote ancestor of a dan, and wafted down from one 
g^oeration to another of his descendants, an idea as 
nonsensical as it is extravagant, and which will not for 
an instant hold water when looked into by those who 
have had a bona-fide experience of the banshee or any 
other ghostly phenomenon. Indeed, it is only the latter 
who are capable of making observations of any value on 
such a subject, and all effort to describe or account for 
the superphysical by those who have never experienced 
it, no matter whether those efforts are made by theoso- 
phical savants, professional mediums or sdentific 
experts, are, in my opinion, weightless, colourless and 
futile. 

** A geologist may describe the hydrosphere, and an 
astronomer the moon, and their descriptions may be 
swallowed with tolerable composure and assurance, 
becaijse we know that the laws of similarity and analogy, 
when applied to the physical, generally hold good ; but 
no scientist can teach us anything about spiritual 
phenomena, because such things are actually without 
the realm of science, just as the game of marbles is 
entirely without the province of theology. It is our 
sensations, and our sensations atdy, that can guide imd 
instruct us when dealing with the superphysical. I have 
heard the dying screams of a woman muidered beneath 
my window ; I have heard on hill and plain the cries of 
coyottes, panthers, jackals and hyenas; and I have 



\. 



30 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

many times listened to the dismal hooting of night birds, 
-when riding alone through the seclusion of giant forests ; 
but there is something in the banshee's cry that differs 
from all these, that fills one with a fear and awe» far — 
immeasurably far — ^beyond that produced by a sound 
which is merely physical. Imagine then what it is to be 
haunted all one's life by such a grim harbinger of Woe, 
to have it ever trailing in one's wake, always ready and, 
maybe, eager to make itself heard the moment it 
detects, by its extraordinary and unhuman powers, the 
advent of death. One curious idiosyncrasy of the banshee 
is that it never manifests itself to the person whose death 
it is prognosticating. Other people may see or hear it, 
but the doomed one never, so that when every one 
present is aware of it but one, the fate of that one may be 
regarded as pretty well certain. 

^^ And now once again, whence comes the banshee ? 
From heaven or from hell ? What is it ? It is impossible 
to say ; at the most one can only speculate. Some 
banshees appear to be mournful only ; others unques- 
tionably malevolent; and whereas some very closely 
resemble a woman, even though of a type long passed 
away, others, again, differ so much from our conception 
of any human being, that we can only imagine them to 
be spirits that never have been human, that belong to a 
genus wholly separate and distinct from the hun|an 
genus, and that have only been brought into contact 
with this material plane through the medium of certain 
magical or spiritual rites practised by the Milesians, but 
for some unknown reason discontinued by their descen- 
dants. This appears to me quite a possible explanation 
of the origin of the banshee. 

" One realizes, when dabbling in spiritualism to-day, 
one of the greatest dangers incurred is that of attracting 
to one certain undesirable, mischievous, and malignant 
spirits — call them elementals if you will — which, when 
so attracted, stick to one like the proverbial leech. And 
what happens to-day may very well have happened 



K'i 



k 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 31 

thousands of years ago ; in all probability, the Unknown 
never changes ; its ways anA habits may be as constant as 
those of Nature, guided by laws and principles which 
may at times vary, but which, nevertheless, undergo no 
material alteration. The superphysicaU attracted to the 
ancients as it is attracted to us to-day, would adhere to 
them as it now adheres to us. I cannot surmise more. 

^* Supposing then that this theory accounts for the one 
class of banshee, what accounts for the other — the other 
that so nearly tallies with the physical ? Are the latter 
actual phantoms of the dead ; of those that died some 
unnatural death, and have been earth-bound and dan* 
bound ever since ? Maybe they are. Maybe they are 
the spirits of women, prehistoric or otherwise, who were 
either suicides or were murdered, or who themselves com- 
mitted some very heinous offence ; and they haunt the 
dan to which they owed their unhappy ending ; or, in 
the event of themselves being the malefactors, the clan 
to which they belonged. From all this we can conclude 
that, whOst the origin and constitution of banshees vary, 
their mission is always the same — ^they are solely the 
prognosticators of misfortime. A sorry possession for 
anyone ; and yet, how truly in accord with the nature of 
the Country — ^with its general air of discontent and 
barrenness, with its rain-sodden soil and gloomy atmos- 
phere — as an unkind critic might say, could anyone 
imagine the presence of cheerful spirits under such 
conditions ? 

** But the banshee has the one admirable trait which 
the average Englishman obstinately refuses to recognize 
in the material Irish — ^the trait of loyalty and constancy. 
It never forsakes the object of its attachment, but clings 
to it in all its vicissitudes and peregrinations with a 
loyalty and persistency that is unmatchable. It is 
thoroughly Irish, essentially Irish ; the one thing, apart 
from disposition and character, that has remained 
exclusively Irish through long centuries of robbery and 
oppression; and which, in spite of assertions to the 



32 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

contrary, . never has been, nor ever will be shared by 
other than the genuine clansman. 

^^ The banshee is most fastidious in its tastes— 4t will 
have none of the pseudo-celt ; none of the individual 
who, possessing an absolutely English name, and coming 
entirely of English forefathers, terms himself Irish 
merely because his ancestors happen to have settled in 
Ireland. That is nothing like exact enough for the 
banshee. Others may talk of it and write of it, but they 
can never honestly claim it ; for the banshee belongs 
wholly and exclusively to the bona-fide O's and Macs — 
and them, and them only, will it never cease to haunt so 
long as there is one of them left." 

My last experience with a ghost in Dublin took place 
just after I had been medically examined for the R J.C., 
and to my intense grief had been rejected, owing to 
varicose veins, which the examining doctor told me 
were of a far too complicated nature to permit of an 
operation ; consequently, although I had been ^' cram- 
ming" for two years, and my prospects of getting 
through the literary examination were deemed extremely 
fair, it was futile to go up for it, as aU chance of my evar 
being in the R.I.C. was now at an end. 

On the night of my failure to pass the medical I had 
gone to bed early, as I had a splitting headache, and, 
after vain efforts, had at length succeeded in falling 
asleep. I awoke just in time to hear a dock from some- 
where in the downstairs premises of the house — ^I was 
then lodging in Lower Merrion Street — strike two, and 
almost immediately afterwards there came a loud laugh, 
just over my face, and so near to me that I seemed to feel 
the breath of the laughter fan my nostrils. Nothing I 
have ever heard before, or have ever heard since, was so 
repulsive as that laugh — ^it was the very incarnation of 
jeering, jibing mockery ; of undying, inveterate hate. I 
felt that nothing but a spirit of unadulterated evil could 
have made such a noise, and that it had come to gloat 
over my misfortunes — to let me know how greatly it 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 33 

rejoiced at the cruel blow I had suffered. I naturally 
associated it with the ghost that had tried to strangle 
me, and my heart turned sick within me at the thought 
that such a horrible species of phantasm was still hover* 
ing near me. Should I ever be free from it *? I was not 
quite so frightened, however, as I had been on the 
occasion of its visit to me in the house near the Waterloo 
Road, and determining to prevent myself from falling 
into that kind of paralytic condition again, in which all 
my muscles and faculties had remained alike spell-bound 
and useless, I sat up. The room was in pitch darkness, 
and everything was breathlessly still. I waited in this 
posture for some seconds, my heart beating like a sledge- 
hammer, and then, deriving assurance from the fact that 
nothing happened, I got out of bed and struck a light. 
The door was locked on the inside, and there was nothing 
in hiding that could in any way account for the noise. I 
went to the window, and, lifting it gently, peered out into 
the street. There was no moon, but many stars and lamp- 
lights enabled me to see that the street was absolutely 
empty — not even a policeman was in sight. I leaned far 
out, and from immediately beneath me, although no one 
was visible, there suddenly commenced the sound of 
running footsteps. Ringing out loud and clear, and 
accompanied by a queer familiar clicking, they seemed to 
follow the direction of the street towards Ely Place. I 
wanted to get back to bed, for I was lightly clad, and the 
air was cool and penetrating, but something compelled 
me to keep on listening, and so I remanied with my neck 
craned over the window-sill, till the steps gradually grew 
fainter and fainter, and suddenly ceased altogether. 
And. with their termination this early period of my 
ghostly experiences in Dublin terminated, too. 



CHAPTER m 

80MB STRANGE CASES IN SCOTLAND 

I BETUBNED to England in that '' tub-like " old rdic of 
mid- Victorian steamboats, "The Argo" — long since 
defmicty but which for many years sailed to and from 
Dublin and Bristol with as many passengers and cattle 
as could be crammed, with any degree of safety, into her 
dingy and clumsy-looking hulk. I remember the passage 
well, for two of my fellow students were on board, and 
we spent nearly all the time on deck, telling ghost tales, 
and earnestly discussing the possibility of a future life. 
In the end we made a solemn compact, whereby it was 
agreed that the one who died first would try his level best 
to give some kind of spirit demonstration to the other 
two. Both my friends died within a few years of that 
date, and within three weeks of each other. The one, 
who had a conmiission in a cavalry regiment, was killed 
at the Battle of Omdurman, and the other, who having 
followed in the footsteps of his distinguished father, had 
become a novelist of great promise, was kicked to death 
by a horse. The day after the death of the former, as I 
was busily engaged writing the first chapter of my novel, 
*^ For Satan's Sake," a portion of the mantel-piece in the 
room in which I was working suddenly fell with a loud 
crash on to the grate. Of course, the incident may not 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 35 

have had anythmg to do with the death of my friendt 

but it was nevertheless remarkable, as previously nothing 

in the nature of a flaw had been noticeable in the condi* 

tion of the mantel-piece. My other friend died — as I 

subsequently learned, Le., after the incident I am about 

to narrate had occurred — at ten o'clock one Friday 

morning, and that afternoon as I was changing for 

football, the grandfather dock on the landing outside my 

bedroom suddenly struck ten. I went to look, and the 

hands pointed to three. There had been nothing amiss 

with the striking before, and there was nothing amiss 

with the striking after. 

These were the only phenomena I experienced at the 

time these two friends of mine died. 

m m m m m m 

On arriving at Bristol, I spent some weeks in the West 
of England and then journeyed north to Scotland. My 
original intention had been to spend a few weeks with an 
old Clifton friend of mine, whose father owned an estate 
near Inverary ; but, on arriving at Glasgow, I heard of 
such a promising case of haunting in that city, that, 
unable to resist the temptation of investigating it, I 
decided to postpone my journey west. The case, as 
outlined to me in the first instance, was this : — 

A Glasgow solicitor, named James McKaye, desirous of 
taking a house dose to his office, went one morning to 
look at one in Duke Street. He went there alone, and, 
carefully closing the front door behind him, proceeded to 
wander from room to room, beginning with the basement. 

As he was going upstairs to the first floor, he suddenly 
heard footsteps following him. He turned sharply 
round; there was no one there. Thinking this was odd, 
but attributing it to the acoustic properties of the walls, 
he continued his ascent. Having arrived on the first 
landing, he went into one of the rooms. The steps 
followed him. A brilliant idea then occurred to him — he 
stamped his foot. There was no echo. He turned round 
and went into the next room, and the steps once again 



Sa EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

accompanied him. Then he grew frightened. It was 
broad daylight, the sun was shining brilliantly and the 
birds were singing ; but there was something in this 
house that jarred on him horribly — a something that was 
completely out of humour with the golden sunbeams and 
the cheeijul chirping of the sparrows. The day was 
hot, and the sun was pouring in through the blindless 
windows; but in spite of this the rooms were icy, and he 
was deliberating whether it was worth while to explore 
the house further, when he caught sight of a shadow on 
the wall. It was not his own shadow. It was that of a 
man with his arms stretched out horizontally on either 
side of him, and whereas the right arm was complete in 
every detail, the left had no hand. James McKaye now 
yielded to an ungovernable terror and rushed frantically 
out of the house. 

One would naturally think that after all this McKaye 
would have vowed never to go near the place again. 
Nothing of the sort. The house fascinated him. He 
could not get it out of his mind ; he even dreamed of it ; 
dreamed of it in connection with some mystery that he 
must solve — ^that he alone could solve. Besides, there 
was not another house in the town so conveniently 
situated, nor so cheap. Consequently, he took it, and 
within a fortnight had moved in with all his family and 
household goods. For the first few weeks everything 
went swimmingly, and McKaye, who was shrewd, even 
for a Scot, congratulated himself upon having made such 
an excellent bargain. 

Then occurred an incident which recalled sharply the 
day he had first seen the place. He was writing some 
letters one morning in his study, when the nurse-maid 
entered, white and agitated. " Oh, do come to the 
nursery, sir," she implored ; " the children are playing 
with something that looks like a dog, and yet isn't one. 
I don't know what it is ! " And she burst out crying. 

" You're mad," McKaye said sharply and, springing 
to his feet, he ran upstaira 



EXPERIEKGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 37 

On reaching the nursery, the blurred outline of some- 
thing like a huge dog or wolf came out of the half -open 
door, and raced past him, so close that he distinctly felt 
it brush against his clothes. 

Where it went he could not say ; he was thinking of 
the children, and did not stop to look. Oddly enough, the 
children were not a bit afraid ; on the contrary, they 
were pleased and curious. *'' What a strange doggy it 
was. Daddy 1 " they cried ; " it never wagged its tail, 
like other doggies, and whenever we tried to stroke it, it 
slipped away from us — ^we never touched it once." 

Sorely puzzled, McKaye told his wife, and the two 
decided that if anything further happened, they must 
leave the house. 

That night McKaye happened to sit up rather late ; 
at last he got up, and was about to turn off the gas, when 
he felt his upstretched hand suddenly caught hold of by 
tomething large and soft, that did not seem to have any 
fingers. He was so frightened that he screamed ; where- 
upon his hand was instantly released, and there was a 
loud crash overhead. Thinking something had happened 
to his wife, he rushed upstairs, and foimd her sitting up 
in bed and talking in her sleep. She was apparently 
addressing a black, shadowy figure that was crouching 
on the floor, opposite her. As McKaye approached, the 
thing moved towards the wall, and vanished. 

Mrs. McKaye then awoke, and begged her husband to 
take her out of the house at once, as she had dreamed 
most vividly that an appalling murder had been com- 
mitted there, and that the murderer had come out of the 
room with outstretched hands, asking her to look at them. 
McKaye, who had had quite enough of it, too, promised 
to do as she wished, and before another twenty-four 
hours had passed the house was once again empty. 

These were the bare facts of the case, and as they were 
given me by one of his clients, I had no difficulty in 
obtaining an interview with Mr. McKaye, who, I was 
told, still had the keys of the house. It was not, however. 



38 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

8o easy to obtain consent to spend a night on the premises, 
and he would only permit me to do so on the condition 
that he himself accompanied me, and that I promised to 
keep the visit a profound secret. 

The evening chosen for our enterprise proved ever 
memorable. 

The rain came down in torrents, and the wind — a 
veritable tornado — ^made any attempt to hold up an 
umbrella utterly impossible. Indeed, it was as much as I 
could do to hold up myself, whilst, to add to my dis- 
comfort, at almost every step I plunged ankle-deep in icy 
cold puddles. At length, drenched to the skin, I arrived 
at the house. 

McICaye was standing on the doorstep, swearing 
furiously. He could not, so he said, find the key. How- 
ever, he produced it now, and we were soon standing 
inside, shaking the water from our clothes. Those were 
the days before pocket flashlights had become general, 
and we had to be content with candles. 

We each lighted one, and at once commenced to 
search the premises to make siu'c no one was in hiding. 

The house, as far as I can recollect, consisted of four 
storeys and a basement. None of the rooms were very 
large ; the wall-papers were hideous, and I remember 
thanking my stars that I was not called upon to live in 
such hopelessly inartistic quarters. McKaye asked me 
if I could detect anything peculiar in the atmosphere, 
but I could only detect extreme mustiness, and told him 
so. I fancied he seemed very fidgety and ill at ease ; 
however, as he was a much older man than myself, and 
had some experience of the house, I felt perfectly safe 
with him. After we had been in all the rooms, we 
descended to the ground floor, and commenced our vigil 
on the staircase leading from the hall to the first landing. 

^^ I think we stand more chance of seeing something 
here than anywhere else,*' McKaye said ; ** and in the 
case of anything very alarming happening, we are close 
to the front door.'* 



'.*• 



• • # • • 



• ^ • 



• •• • 



• • • • 



I • • 






' . * • 



" We both looked ij 



44 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 39 

He spoke only half in fun and I observed that his fingers 
twitched a good deal and that his eyes were never at rest. 
Oughtn't we to put out the candles ? '' I said. 

Ghosts surely materialise much more readily in the 
dark." But he would not hear of it. All his experiences, 
he saidy bad taken place in the light, and he believed only 
spoof ghosts at stances required the opposite conditions. 
Then he regaled me once more with all that had happi^ned 
during his occupation of the house. He was still telling 
me, when there came a loud rat-rat at the door. 

** That's a policeman," he said ; ** he must have seen 
our light." He spoke truly, for, when we opened the 
door, a burly figure in helmet and cape stood on the step 
and flashed his dripping bull's-eye in our faces. On 
hearing McICaye's name the constable was instantly 
appeased, and, when we mentioned ghosts, he laughed 
long and loud. " Well, gentlemen," he said, ** you won't 
never be alarmed by a happarition so long as you have 
that dog with you. I bet he would scare away any 
number of ghosts, and burglars, too. If I may be so 
bold as to ask, what breed do you call him ? I've never 
seen anything quite like him before," and he waved his 
lamp towards the stairs. We both looked in the direction 
he indicated, and there, half way up the stairs, with its 
face apparently tmned towards us, was the black, 
shadowy outline of some shaggy creature, which to me 
looked not so much like a dog as a bear. It remained 
stationary for a moment or so, and then, retreating 
backwards, seemed to disappear into the wall. 

** Well, gentlemen, good-night," the policeman said, 
lowering his lamp, " it's time I was going." He turned 
on his heel, and was walking off, when McE^aye called 
him back. 

" Wait a moment, constable," he said, " and we'll 
come with you." 

He cast a swiftly furtive glance around him as he 
spoke, then, blowing out the lights, he caught me by the 
arm and dragged me away. 



.44 



40 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

** But the dog, sir,*' the policeman said, as the front 
door closed behind us with a bang ; ** it ain't come out 1 " 
And it never will," McKaye responded grimly. 

You have seen the ghost, constable, or at least one of 
them." 

I have never had an opportunity of visiting the house 
again, but for aught I know to the contrary, it still 
stands there, and is still haunted. 

From Glasgow I went on to Inverary, where I had the 
most delightful time, fishing and shooting. 

I then went to Perth, and there, quite by chance, met a 
Mr. and Mrs. Rowlandson, who informed me that they 
were just quitting a badly haunted house on the out- 
skirts of the town. The name of the house was 
" Bocarthe." It was their own, and had only been built 
a year, but they could not possibly remain in it, they told 
me, owing to the perpetual disturbance to which they 
were subjected. They were just beginning a detailed 
description of the manifestations, when I begged them 
to desist. I would like, I explained, with their per- 
mission, to investigate the case, and I thought it would 
be better to do so without knowing the nature of the 
hauntings, as in these circumstances — should my experi- 
ence happen to tally with theirs — ^there could be no 
question either of suggestion or of imagination. 

I had resolved to conduct all my investigations with an 
absolutely open mind, and I intended, when once I had 
satisfied myself that the phenomena were objective, to 
try and alight upon some code whereby I could com- 
municate with them, and learn from them something 
certain — something definite, at all events, about the 
other world. To what extent I have succeeded I shall 
miake it the piu^ose of this volume to reveal. 

But to continue : ** What strikes us as so extra- 
ordinary about the whole thing," the Rowlandsons said, 
" is that a new house, with absolutely no history 
attached to it, for we were the first people who ever 
inhabited it, and we can assure you," they added 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 41 

laughingly, ** there were no murders or suicides there 
during our occupancy, should be haunted. Our neigh- 
bours declare that we must have brought the ghost with 
us/* 

I told them I thought it quite possible that such might 
be the case, and narrated to them my experiences in 
Dublin. They appeared to be greatly interested ; and 
were, moreover, quite willing, provided I promised them 
not to discuss the matter too openly, as they wanted to 
let the house, that I should spend a few nights at 
** Bocarthe." They were, in fact, rather anxious to 
know if anything unusual still took place there. Thinking, 
perhaps, that I might not like to go alone, they gave me 
an introduction to a young friend of theirs, Dr. Swinton, 
who, they thought, might be prevailed upon to accompany 
me ; and, before I left them, all the preliminaries relating 
to my visit to " Bocarthe " were satisfactorily arranged. 

That same day the Rowlandsons went to Edinburgh, 
where they told me they intended living, and the follow- 
ing day at noon I wended my way to the house they had 
vacated. iAs there was, no story connected with 
** Bocarthe," I set to work to make enquiries about the 
ground on which it stood, and instead of learning too 
little, I learned too much. An old minister, who looked 
fully eighty, was sure that the ground in question, until 
it was built upon quite recently, had been grazing land 
ever since he was a boy, and that it had never witnessed 
anything more extraordinary than the occasional death 
of a sheep or a cow that' had been struck by lightning. 
An equally aged and equally positive postmistress 
declared that the ground had never been anything 
better than waste land, where, amid rubbish heaps 
galore, all the dogs in the parish might have been seen 
scratching and fighting over bones. Another person 
remembered a pond being there, and another a nursery 
garden ; but from no one could I extract the slightest 
hint as to anything that could in any way account for 
the haunting. 



42 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

When I entered the house, I thought I had seldom 
seen such a cheerful one : the rooms were light and lojN;y, 
and about them all there was an air of genialty, that 
hitherto, at all events, I had never dreamed of associating 
with ghosts. 

Dr. Swinton joined me in the evening, but although we 
sat up till long after dawn, we neither saw nor heard 
anything we could not account for by natural causes. We 
repeated the process for two more nights, and then, 
feeling that we had given the house a fair trial, we 
concluded it was either no longer haunted, or that the 
hauntings were periodical, and might not occur again 
for years. I wrote to Mr. Rowlandson, upon returning 
the keys of the house, and, in reply, received the following 
letter from him : — 

No. — 9 C Crescent, 

Edinburgh. 
November 8th, 1898. 
Dear Mr. O'Donnell, 

Many thanks for the keys. No wonder you did not 
see our ghost 1 It is here, and we are having just the 
same experiences in this house as we had in 
" Bocarthe." If you would care to stay a few nights 
with us, on the chance of seeing the ghost, we shall be 
delighted to put you up. 

Yours, etc., 
Robert Rowlandson. 

I was obliged to return home very shortly, in order to 
decide definitely and speedily what I intended to do for a 
living ; but although I knew I had little or no time to 
waste, I could not resist the Rowlandsons' kind invitation 
to try and see their ghost, and accordingly accepted. 

They lived in C Crescent. When I arrived 

there, I found the entire household in a panic, the ghost 
having appeared to one and all during the previous 
night. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 49 

^* It was so terrible/' Mrs. Rowlandson said, ^* that I 
can't bear even to think of it, and shall certainly never 
forget it. One of the maids fainted, and was so ill after- 
wards, we were obliged to have the doctor, and all have 
given notice to leave.'* jry 

*^ Did nothing of the sort happen before you went to 
* Bocarthe ' ? " I venttued to ask. 

" No," Mr. Rowlandson replied, ** not a thing. We 
were then sceptics where ghosts were concerned, but 
we're certainly not sceptical now." 

*^ Do you think it possible," I said, ^^ that the ghost is 
attached to some piece of old furniture ? I have read of 
such cases." 

Mr. Rowlandson shook his head. 

" No," he said, " we have no old furniture, all our 
furniture is modem and new ; at least, it was new when 
we came to * Bocarthe.' " 

*^ Then, if the ghost is neither attached to the house, 
nor to the ground, nor to the furniture, it moist surely be 
attached to some person," I remarked. ^^ I have read 
that one of the dangers of attending Spiritualistic 
S&nces is that spirits occasionally attach themselves to 
people, and can only be got rid of with great difficulty. 
I suppose no one in the house has gone in for Spiri- 
tualism ? " 

I can s£kf ely say I haven't," Mr. Rowlandson laughed; 

and you haven't, either, Maud, have you ? " he said, 
looking at his wife. 

Mrs. Rowlandson flushed. 

" The only Spiritualist I ever knew," she stammered, 
** was — ^you know, dear, whom I mean " 

Mr. Rowlandson raised his eyebrows and stared at her 
in astonishment. 

" I don't," he said. " Who ? " 

** Ernest Dekon I " 

" Dekon 1 " Mr. Rowlandson ejaculated. " Dekon t 
Why, of course, I might have guessed Spiritualism was 
in his line. Some years ago, Mr. O'Donnell," he went on. 



4( 



44 
44 



44 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

tiiming to me, " my wiif c met this Mr, Dekon at a ball 
given by a mutual friend, and from that time, up to his 
death, he persecuted her with his undesirable attentions. 
I never knew anyone so persistent.*' 

" He resented your marriage, of course," I remarked. 

** Resented it I " Mr. Rowlandson responded ; " I 
should rather think he did, though to everyone*s surprise 
he came to it. Ye Gods ! I shall never forget the ex- 
pression on his face, as we caught sight of him in the 
vestibule of the church. Talk about Satan ! Satan 
never looked lialf as evil." 

And Mr. Dekon was a Spiritualist ! " I said. 
He was very keen on stances,** Mrs. Rowlandson 
interposed. ^*' Most keen, and was at one time always 
trying to persuade me to go to one with him." 

" I never knew that," Mr. Rowlandson exclaimed. 

" Perhaps not," his wife said demurely. " You see, 
you don't know everything. However, I never went." 

** And how did he die ? " I ventured. 

^^ Suicide," Mr. Rowlandson said. ^^ He shot himself, 
and was dastardly enough to leave a note behind him, 
pinned to the toilet-cover of his dressing-table, stating 
that his death was entirely due to the heartless conduct 
of my wife." 

" When was that, Mr. Rowlandson ? " I asked. "'" ^ 

** Let me see," Mr. Rowlandson soliloquised. ** We 
have been married not quite eighteen months. About 
fifteen months ago — shortly before we came to 
* Bocarthe.' " 

"I know what's in your mind," Mrs. Rowlandson 
observed. " You think that very possibly it is the spirit 
of Ernest Dekon that is troubling us. Do you really 
think it could be ? " 

" From what you have told me," I said, ** I should say 
that it is more than likely. The mere fact of his having 
been a Spiritualist would mean that he had, in some 
measure, got in touch with the Unknown ; so that on 
passing over with his mind solely concentrated on 



% 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 4S 

revenge, he would, in all probability, speedily become 
closer acquainted with those spirits whom he had known 
here — not a very high class,, but apparently the only 
class that a stance can attract — and these would un- 
doubtedly aid him in his attempt to come back and 
annoy you." 

Mrs. Rowlandson gave vent to an exclamation of 
dismay. ^* I have always felt," she said, *^ that there 
might be some mysterious connection between Ernest 
Dekon and the dreadful thing we have seen." 

^^ Of course," I added, ^^ that is only a suggestion on 
my part. When does the phenomenon usually appear ? '^ 

^^ At all times, and when we least expect it," Mrs.. 
Rowlandson said. *^ For example, if I am going upstairs 
alone, it either springs out at me or peers down at me 
from over the banisters. Or, again, it rouses us in the 
middle of the night by rocking our bed 1 Always some 
alarming trick of that kind." 

" Then you could hardly expect it to manifest itself 
if we all sat here in the dark ? " 
Hardly." 

You haven't a photograph of Mr. Dekon, I sup- 
pose ? " I hazarded. 

" A photograph of that scoundrel," Mr. Rowlandson 
cried. "If he had given her one, it wouldn't have 
remained long in her possession, I can assure you." 

" Well, he never did," Mrs. Rowlandson said, forcing 
a smile, " but I can describe him." 

" I don't know whether that will do much good," I 
observed. " Because I understand that if one of the 
lower order of earthbounds, usually called Elementals,, 
wanted to ^ fool ' us, it could easily impersonate him. 
Dekon's phantom would not, of necessity, be very like 
his material body ; it would depend entirely on how 
much of the animal there was in him ; if a great deal, 
then one might expect to see a creature with a pig's, or 
some other kind of beast's, head, with only a slight facial 
resemblance to Dekon. Can you describe his hands t 



44 



46 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

Because I believe spirits that have lost all other resem- 
blance with the physical body might be identified by 
some peculiarity in the formation of the fingers." 

" Yes," Mrs, Rowlandson said ; *' I do remember his 
hands distinctly. They were so ugly ! They were long, 
and red, and the tips were club-shaped ; I am sure I 
should recognise them anywhere." 

This conversation took place in the interval between 
tea and dinner. After dinner we sat in the drawing- 
room, discussing plans for the night, and finally came to 
the conclusion that when bed-time came we should 
retire to our respective rooms, and sit there in tHk dark, 
waiting and watching for whatever might happen. It 
was furthermore agreed that directly anyone saw or 
heard anything, they should at once summon the others. 

We sat up rather late, and it was close on midnight 
before Mrs. Rowlandson rose, and we all — ^there were 
two guests besides myself, a Colonel and Mrs. Rushworth 
— ^took our candlesticks, and followed her upstairs. We 
had mounted the first flight, and had turned the bend 
leading to the second — ^the house seemed all stairs — 
when Mrs. Rowlandson halted, and, looking back at us, 
said, " Hush I Do you hear anything ? " 

We stood still and listened. There was a thump, that 
apparently came from a room Just at the top of the 
stairs — ^then another — and then a very ciuious sound, as 
if something was bounding backwards and forwards over 
bare boards with its feet tied together. At a signal from 
Mr. Rowlandson, we immediately blew out our lights. 
A church clock solemnly struck twelve. We heard it 
very distinctly, as the Rowlandsons, being enthusiasts 
for fresh air, kept every window in the house wide open. 
The reverberation of the final stroke had hardly ceased 
when a loud gasp from someone in front of me sent a 
cMlly feeling down my spine. 

At the same moment the darkness ahead of us was 
dissipated by a faint, luminous glow. As I watched, the 
glow speedily intensified, and suddenly took the shape of 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 47 

a cylindrical column of six or seven feet in height, and 
this in turn developed with startling abruptness into the 
form of something so shockingly grotesque and bestial 
that I was rendered speechless. 

It is extremely difficult to give a very accurate 
lescription of it, because, like the generality of occult 
phenomena I have experienced in haunted houses, it 
was a baffling mixture of the distinct and yet vague, 
entirely without substance, and apparentiy wholly 
constituted of vibrating light that varied each second in 
tone and intensity. I can only say that the impression 
I derived was that of a very gross or monstrous man. 

The head, ill-defined on the crown and sides, appeared 
to be abnormally high and long, and to be covered with a 
tangled mass of coarse, tow-coloured hair; the nose 
seemed hooked, the mouth cruel, the eyes leering. The 
general expression on the face was one of intense 
antagonism. The body of the thing was grey and nude, 
very like the tnmk of a silver beech, the arms long and 
knotted, the hands huge, the fingers red and club- 
shaped. The latter corresponded exactly with BIrs. 
Rowlandson's description. 

This hideous, baleful apparition was the spirit of 
animal man, the symbolical representation of all carnal 
lusts — ^it was Ernest Dekon — soulless. 

But although this spirit was without substance, it 
was composed of complex forces — ^forces both physical 
and mental. It could shut and open doors, move 
furniture, rap and make sundry other noises, and it could 
also convey the sensation of intense cold, and the feeling 
of the most abject fear. I now found myself wondering 
if it possessed other properties : Was it sensible ? Could 
it communicate in any way ? 

I was thus deliberating, when the figure seemed to 
move forward ; then someone shrieked. Mr. Rowlandson 
struck a light, and simultaneously the apparition 
vanished. The effect it had had on us all was novel and 
striking — ^we were all more or less demoralized ; and yet 



48 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

no two of us had seen the ghost the same — and some» 
Mr. Rowlandson and Mrs. Rushworth, had not seen it 
at all. 

We went back again into the drawing-room and dis- 
cussed it. Mrs. Rowlandson was the first to speak. She» 
too, had been particularly impressed by the hands, and 
she was sure they were the hands of Ernest Dekon. 

" I can say nothing about the face,'? she cried, " as it 
did not appear to me, but having seen the hands, I am 
firmly convinced that the ghost is Ernest Dekon, and that 
it is Ernest Dekon who is tormenting us. Can't any of 
you think of a plan to get rid of him ? " 

" Cremation is the only thing I can think of I " cried 
Colonel Rush worth, who had hitherto been silent. " That 
is the means employed, I believe, by the hill tribes in 
Northern India. When a spirit — ^a spirit they can 
identify — ^begins to haunt a place, they dig up the body 
and bum it, and they say that as soon as the last bone 
is consumed the haimting ceases. They have a theory 
that phantoms of dead people and animals can materialise 
as long as some remnant of their physical body remains. 
Where did this Ernest Dekon die ? " 
In Africa," Mr. Rowlandson said. 
That's capital I If we can find the cemetery, there 
ought to be no difficulty in getting at the body. The 
officials are, as a rule, open to bribery. Anyhow, we 
might try it as an experiment." 

I left Edinburgh next day, but I heard some months 
later from Mr. Rowlandson. 

" You may recollect Colonel Rushworth's suggestion," 
he wrote. " Well, the hauntings have ceased. We are 
shortly returning to ' Boc€trthe ' ! " 

From this I gathered that an attempt to exhume and 
cremate Ernest Dekon's body had been made, and had 
proved successful. 



&& 
(« 



CHAPTER IV 

I TRAVEL ACaOSS THK tJMTTED STATES, ANB DO 
SOME GHOST HUNTING IN SAN FRANCISCO 

Upon leaving Scotland I seriously considered my f uture, 
and at length decided to go to Oregon and fruit farm. 
Though the expedition^ through no fault of my o^(rn» 
proved a failure, and I had to return to England within a 
comparatively short time, I managed, whilst in America^ 
to see and learn a good deal. Apart from visiting Crater 
Lake, which in those days was one of the wildest spots 
imaginable, far out of the beat of any but the most 
adventurous toiuist, and seeing the Rogue River Indians 
in their native element, I spent several weeks in the big 
cities, and when in San Francisco obtained the services 
6f a guide, and did a nightly tour of China Town, and 
several of the lesser known subterranean haunts of that 
city. 

It was in San Francisco that I had my first experience 
with an American gho^t. I had been out tramping all day 
along the southern side of the bay, and it was dose on 
midnight before t got back to the city, feeling thoroughly 
done up and very footsore. The last chime of twelve 
o'clock sounded, as I swung wearily round 117th Street 
into a narrow thoroughfare leading to the obscure 
quarter of the town in which my financies forced me to 



50 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

live. As I came within sight of the end house of a block 
of low old-fashioned buildings, I received something of a 
shock. I had passed by it that morning and had noticed 
that it was to let. I was quite sure of this, because there 
was something about the house that had especially 
attracted my attention. I was struck with its utter 
loneliness, its air of past grandeur — so oddly at variance 
with the modem and mediocre buildings around it — and, 
peeping in at the windows, I had taken stock of its big 
oak-panelled apartments devoid of furniture and be- 
strewn with dust and cobwebs. 

Now, to my astonishment, I perceived a bright glow — 
a kind of phosphorescent light— emanating from one of 
the rooms on the ground floor. I approached nearer, 
and, as I leaned against the verandah and peered in, it 
suddenly seemed to me that the room was no longer 
empty, but richly carpetted and full of ponderous, old- 
fashioned furniture. I also seemed to see in the centre 
of the room a long table covered with a snowy cloth, on 
which were arranged, in rich profusion, many handsome 
silver dishes containing a selection of the choicest food. 
I was dumbfounded. Twelve hours ago there was not a 
soul to be seen about the house nor a particle of furniture 
in it, and now 1— well, it looked to me as if it never, never 
had been empty. 

Whilst I was thus meditating, my face glued to the 
window, I thought that a sudden blaze illuminated the 
room, and by degrees I became conscious of the glare of 
countless candles, some of the candelabra branching 
from the walls, and othersr-K>f chased silver — standing 
on the table. I then saw the door at the far end of the 
apartment open, and a young and charming girl, dressed 
k la mode de Marie Antoinette, her gown high-waisted 
and her hair poudrd, hurriedly enter. She gave a quick 
glance at the table, and then, advancing to the fireplace, 
where, for the first time, I perceived the cheery glow of a 
huge log of wood, gazed at herself in a large, richly- 
framed mirror. The reflection evidently pleased her, for 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 51 

she turned round all smiles ; and then her eyes fell on 
the window, and on me. 

In an instance her countenance changed. Putting a 
finger to her lips with a great air of mystery, she beckoned 
to me to come in. I started back in confusion. Again 
she beckoned, and with such pretty pleading in her eyes 
that, despite my travel-stained clothes, I yielded. I 
walked to the front door ; she opened it, and in hushed 
tones, in which I detected a slight French accent, she 
bade me welcome. 

" We are having a fancy-dress dance,*' she said, " but 
none of the guests have as yet arrived, and I want you to 
come into the ball-room while I rehearse some of the 
dance music.*' 

She led the way across a big, deserted and strangely 
silent hall, up a flight of thickly-carpeted stairs, along a 
dimly lighted corridor, peopled with nothing but odd 
shadows, to which I could see no material counterparts, 
and into a room obviously prepared for a ball. 

^* There is no one about but you and I," she said 
laughingly. *^ Only we two ; but someone else will arrive 
soon. It's not hcdf-past twelve, is it ? " 

" No," I said ; " twenty past." 

*^ Ten more minutes ! " She sighed deeply, and her 
expression, which up to now had been one of gay mischief, 
changed to one of immeasurable sadness. Then she 
nodded, suddenly burst out laughing, and casting the 
most bewitching look at me from out her long, thickly 
lashed blue-grey eyes, sat down at the piano and began 
to play a Strauss waltz. 

Fascinated though I was by her extreme archness and 
beauty, I could not stifle the thousand and one uncom- 
fortable thoughts that speedily crowded into my mind. 

Who was this strangely friendly and peculiarly 
solitary girl ? Surely someone must have helped her 
prepare the house and supper. Where were they ? 
Besides, she couldn't possibly live in that house alone. 

And yet, apart from the music — which seemed to 



52 XXPERIENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

reverberate through every stick and stone of the building 
— ^there was no other sound. I might have been aloae 
mth her on some desert island in the far Pacific. 

A feeling of intense but wholly unaccountable fear 
l^adually crept over me. 

^* It is dose on the half hour,'* she suddenly whispered. 
*• Listen I *' 

She paused for a moment, and I heard a door from 
somewhere in the lower part of the house open and shut. 
Then came the sound of mufiSed footsteps, stealthily 
feeling their way upstairs. Up and up they came, till 
they arrived outside the door of the room we were in. 
There they stopped, and I instinctively felt that their 
owner was listening. 

Presently the girl recommenced playing, and I saw the 
•door-handle began to turn. Slowly, very slowly, the door 
then opened, and on the floor of the room there appeared 
« black shadow — ^vague, indefinite and grotesque. The 
^1 looked over her shoulder at it, and I caught an 
expression in her eyes that appalled me. Turning to the 
piano again, she played frantically, and the faster her 
fingers flew, the nearer crept that shadow. 

Suddenly it seemed to shoot right forward, there was a 
wild scream of terror, a terrific crash, and all was in 
absolute darkness. 

I groped my way frantically towards the door. Some- 
thing — ^I coiUd not define what— came into violent 
collision with me ; I staggered back half stunned ; and, 
when my brain cleared, I f oimd myself standing in the 
street, weak with exhaustion, and — hatless.' 

I visited the house the next day, when the sim was 
shining brightly and there were plenty of people about. 
It was as I had first seen it, untenanted and unfurnished. 

I must then have dreamed the whole thing. And what 
more likely 1 I was excessively tired at the time, so tired 
that I felt I could hardly crawl home — and without a 
doubt I had dropped off to sleep resting against the 
verandah. 



' 
.' 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 53 

Just out of curiosity, however, I determined to find out 
if the interior of the house in any way resembled the 
interior I had seen in my dream, and, with that object in 

view, I applied to Mr. C. 9 the owner, for permission 

to look over it, frankly telling him why I was doing so. As 
he appeared to be interested, I described my dream to 
him in detail, and he afterwards told me the following 
story: — 

"About fifty years ago, a very rich French family 
occupied the house ; and at the coming of age of their 
daughter they gave a fancy-dress ball. Among the 
guests was an Italian, who, being a rejected suitor of tl\^ 
daughter's, had not been invited. He appeared in some 
grotesque and alarming costume, and when the dance 
was at its height suddenly overturned a large oil lamp. 

" In a moment the whole floor was ablaze ; and before 
anyone could stop him, he had seized the daughter of the 
house and hurled her into the midst of the flaming mass. 
Both he and the girl were bmned to death, and the 
house, although it was thoroughly restored, has never 
let since." 

Having concluded his story, Mr. C. said he would 

like to go with me to the house, and accordingly we set 
out together. 

Though my experience had been only a dream, the 
coincidence connected with it, which only needed my 
identification of the scene to be complete, was startling 
enough, and I grew more and more excited as we neare^ 

our destination. When we arrived, Mr. C. insisted 

upon my going first ; and once inside, recognising every 
feature in the house, I led him first to the room in which 
I had seen the supper-table laid, and then upstairs to thei 
ball-room, where, to my unspeakable surprise, lying ii^ 
tiie middle of the floor, I found my hat. 

• ••••• 

What a strangely fascinating city was old San 
T^rancisco — ^that is to say, San Francisco before the last 
great fire and earthquake 1 Consisting of street upon 



54 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

street, terrace upon terrace of quaintly irregular build- 
ings, to me its atmosphere — as no other atmosphere ever 
has been-was impregnated with the superphysical. I 
stayed for a few days in a vast hotel in 117th Street, in 
which I was the only visitor. I shrewdly suspect it was 
haunted, although I cannot truthfully say that I ever 
saw a ghost there, and when I retired to bed up flight 
after flight of stairs, and past dimly-lighted passages 
teeming with doors— doors with nothing, nothing 
material at least, behind them — ^the only sounds I heard 
were the hollow echoes of my own footsteps as I went on 
ascending higher, higher, and higher. 

Hearing, however, that I was interested in ghosts, the 
landlord of the hotel introduced me one day to a Mr. 
Sweeney, who kept a drug store in Market Street. 

** The only experience I ever had with the Super- 
natural," Mr. Sweeney began, in answer to my interroga- 
tions, " took place in this very room. Exactly twelve 
years ago I engaged the services of a young man called 
Edward Marsdon. He was very amiable and capable, 
but highly-strung and hypemormally sensitive. He had 
been with me about six months, when he came into the 
parlour one evening with a face like a corpse. * I've 
poisoned someone,' he gasped. * Poisoned someone ? ' I 
ejaculated. * Good God, what do you mean ? ' ' What 
I say,' he replied. * A young fellow came into the store 
about an hour ago and handed me a prescription. It was 
signed by Dr. Knelligan, of 111th Street. I made it up, 
as I thought, all right, and gave it him. A few minutes 
ago, I found I had put in salts of lemon instead of 
paregoric' * Are you sure ? ' I asked. * Certain ! ' he 
said, ' as the bottle of salts of lemon is on the table in the 
laboratory with the stopper out. I must have used it in 
mistake. The young man will die, if, indeed, he is not 
dead already, and I am ruined for life.' * We both are,' 
I said tersely. ^ Ring up Dr. Knelligan at once, and ask 
him for the yoimg man's address. When you get it, 
drive round at once and see if you are in time.' It was of 



N 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 55 

no use seolding him for carelessness — ^he was upset 
enough already, and a * blowing up * just then might, I 
thought^ result in another tragedy. The only thing to be 
done was to hope for the best. He rang up Knelligan, 
got the address, drove round to it, and discovered that 
the young man had just left. The landlady had no idea 
where he had gone. To Marsdon this was the last straw. 
He came back in a state of utter collapse, trembling all 
over as if he had ague, and, after telling me what hap- 
pened, he went upstairs and slammed his door. About a 
quarter of an hour later, my wife, the servant, and I all 
heard Marsdon, so we thought, come downstairs and go 
out. The servant then went up to his room to make the 
bed, and hearing her scream out, I ran upstairs, to find 
her standing in the middle of the floor, wringing her 
hands, whilst Marsdon was sitting in a chair — dead 1 He 
had been dead some minutes. That, Mr. O'Donnell, 
was the beginning of the strange occurrences here. If it 
was not Marsdon whom we all heard go out, who could it 
have been ? There was no one in the house but we three, 
and the body in the chair upstairs, so that it must have 
been Marsdon's ghost. Well, from that day on, we had 
no peace. 

** Footsteps, which we all recognised as Marsdon's, for 
he had a most peculiar lumping kind of walk, trod up and 
down the stairs all hours of the day and night, and 
frequently when I was in the laboratory mixing medi- 
cines I was strongly conscious of some presence standing 
dose beside me and watching everything I did. One day 
my wife saw him. She was going out, and wanting some 
money, she called to me. As I did not answer, she went 
in search of me, and finding me, as she thought, standing 
on the hearthrug of the parlour with my back to her, she 
touched me on the shoulder. The next moment she 
discovered her mistake. The person whom she had mis- 
taken for me turned round, and she found herself con- 
fronted with the white, scared countenance of Edward 
Marsdon. She started back with a loud shriek, and 



56 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

Marsdon walked out of the room, and apparently ri^t 
through the senrant who came runnmg m to see what 
was the matter. My wife asked the maid if she had seen 
anything, and the latter said, * No, only a dark shadow 
seemed to fall right across me, and just for a second or so. 
I felt miserably depressed.' A week or so afterwards he 
yras again seen ; this time by my wife and the maid* 
They met him on the stairs. He appeared to be under 
the influence of some very painful emotion, and he passed 
them at a great rate, and so near that they felt his 
clothes — apparently quite material — brush against thenu 
He disappeared in the laboratory, and on their entering 
it immediately afterwards, there was no one there. 
Something of this nature — either auditory or visual, or 
both — now hapi>ened pretty well daily, until one morning 
a young man came to the store to see me. * I am the 
young man,' he said, * to whom your assistant gave that 
unfortunate mixture. I have just returned to San 
Francisco, and have heard all about it. The medicine 
was perfectly all right. I drank it directly I left here, and 
it did me the world of good. There was not even the 
suspicion of poison in it. Marsdon was labouring under 
some extraordinary delusion. If only he had told my 
landlady about it when he called and found I had gone, 
she could have given him the glass I had drank out of » 
which doubtless contained some dregs of the stuff — at 
any rate, a sufficient quantity for analysis. I am told 
there are rumours afloat that his apparition has been 
seen several times since he died ; not that I believe in 
such things as ghosts.' 

** * Whether you believe in them or not,' I said quietly, 
Mt is a fact Edward Marsdon has both been seen and 
heard.' * Then I hope,' he said, * my visit here to-day 
will put matters all right, and that his poor, wandering 
spirit, learning that I am alive and well, will find rest, 
and trouble you no more.' He then bid me good*moming 
and walked towards the door. * My God 1 ' he suddenly 
cried, coming to an abrupt halt, * there he is I ' I looked* 



EXPERIENGBS AS A GHOST HUNTER 57 

and as sure as I am sitting here, Mr. O'Donnell, th^e 
was Edward Marsdon, just as I had known him in life, 
standing on the pavement with his face glued to the 
window, peering in at us. The expression in his eyes was 
one of infinite joy and astonishment. 

** I took a step or two towards him with the intention 
of speaking, when he immediately vanished, and from 
that day to this the hauntings have entirely ceased." 



CHAPTER V 

A HAUKTBD OFFICE IN DENVER 

Afteb leaving San Francisco, I visited Sacramento, 
where I bought a pair of braces, suspenders as they call 
them there, that lasted me for years. They were the very 
best half-dollar's worth I ever had, and I still have the 
remains of them stowed away in a big trunk amongst 
other mementos of the long past. 

I can't imagine any city in America hotter than 
Sacramento in the summer, or more unpleasantly cold in 
the winter, apart from which there was nothing about 
the place that caused it to be very deeply impressed on 
my memory, saving that I met a man in one of the streets 
one day who was so exactly like an old Clifton College 
master called Tait that I believed it was he, and accosted 
him accordingly. 

The man gasped at me in amazement. ** Why, Jupp,** 
he said, ^* how on earth have you managed it. It*s only 
ten minutes since I left you eating your dinner in the 
Eagle Hotel on the other side of the town. Have you 
wings ?•* 

The moment he spoke I knew he was not Tait, but it 
took me some time to convince him I was not Jupp ; and 
when he introduced me to the latter half an hour or so 
later, I was not surprised, for I do not think there 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 59 

could have been a more striking likeness to myself, even 
in my own portrait. 

The coincidence was all the more remarkable since 
there was at Clifton College, contemporary with Tait, a 
master named Jupp, of whose cane I had the most 
striking recollection. In appearance, however, the 
Clifton Jupp was not in the least bit like me. 

This was the only adventure of note, if one may so 
designate it, I had during this visit to Sacramento. I 
went on from there to Denver, where I met one or two 
relatives of friends of mine in England, and did a little 
work as a ** Free Lance '' journalist. It was sununer 
when I had last stayed in Denver, and then the intense 
heat, combined with an injudicious consumption pf fruit 
and iced water, had brought on a mild attack of cholera, 
which lift me with a none too favourable impression of 
the place. 

But now all was changed. The weather was much 
cooler ; I was growing acclimatised, and I did not feel 
altogether among strangers. Consequently my apathy 
vanished, and, despite the fact that my employment 
was anything but lucrative, I enjoyed this second stay 
m Denver immensely. 

The town had not been built long. Indeed, ten years 
previously it had only one anything like orthodox 
street ; so that it was the last place in the world where 
one would expect to coine across a haunted house. Yet 
X heard of tln*ee haunted houses at least whilst I was 
there. 

The one I think most likely to interest my readers I 
heard of in this way. I had been to the Zoological 
Gardens, and was returning by tram, when a journalist 
called Rouillac, with whom I had a very slight acquain- 
tance, came running up to me in a great state of excite- 
ment. " O'Dbnnell," he cried, " I have unearthed some- 
thing that will interest you — ^the case of a haunting in an 
office in Race Street.'' He then proceeded to give me 
an account of it. 



«0 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

The office was rented by a Mrs. Bell, a typist who 
employed two gbls, Stella Dean and Hester Holt. 

One day Hester Holt failed to put in an appearance. 

'' If she is ill/* Mrs. Bell said to SteUa Dean, '' sh^ 
ought to have let me know. There was nothing wrong 
with her yesterday, was there ? " 

'"Not that I am aware of/' Stella Dean replied^ 
*^ When she parted from me, just across the way, she 
went off in the best ol spirits. I expect she'll turn up 
all right to-morrow." 

The morrow came, and Hester Holt not arriving, Stdla 
Dean was despatched in the dinner-hour to find out what 
had become of her. She returned looking very whit^ 
and scared. 

'•Why, Stella," Mrs. Bell exclauned. "What on 
earth's the matter ? " 

" Hester*s gone away without telling anyone where she 
was going," Stella Dean answered. 

" You don't say so," Mrs. Bell cried. ** What cm 
have happened ? " 

" She never went to her lodgings after leaving here ; 
At least, that's what the landlady says," Stella Dean 
Teplied. ** And she hasn't written, either — but I think 
you'd better call there yourself ; I don't like the woman." 
And Stella burst out crying. 

This was the begiiming of the mystery. Mts. Bell 
interviewed the landlady, who stuck to her statement 
that she had neither seen Hester Holt nor heard of her 
since she had left the house two days ago, presumably to 
attend business. There had been no words between them, 
she said, and Hester had seemed as usual, perfectly 
happy. She was a singularly reserved girl, and neva^ 
mentioned her family excepting when she went away f ojc, 
her annual holiday. She then requested that all her- 
letters should be forwarded to the address of her married 
sister. 

The landlady, Mrs« Britton, gave this address to Mis, 
Bell, and the latter, writing ofi at once, received an 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 61 

Answer by return of post to say that Hester was not 
there and no tidings of her had been received for over a 
month. The married sister, however, made an important 
statement. She said that one person was sure to know of 
Hester's whereabouts, and that was Pete Simpkins, the 
young man with whom she kept company, and waa 
hoping eventually to marry. Mrs. Bell, now keenly 
iiiterested, hastened off and interviewed Simpkins. To 
quote her own words, he seemed ^^ a bright, intelligent 
young man,'* and exhibited unfeigned astonishment and 
perturbation on learning of the disappearance of hia 
sweetheart. 

** When did you last see her ? ** Mrs. Bell enquired. 

•* The day she left you," he responded. ** I had been 
out in the country all day, superintending the building of 
a large farm some ten miles to the east of this city, and I 
was cycling home along a very unfrequented route, when 
I met a buggy. Two girls were in it, and to my amaze-* 
ment, they were Hester and Stella Dean.*' 

** What I " Mrs. BeU cried. ** Stella Dean ? Are you 
sure ?" 

•* Absolutely I ** Simpkins replied. ** I can swear to it. 
It astonished me because I knew they had been on very 
bad terms. I was engaged to Stella before I met Hester,, 
but I could not stand her temper. One day she was so 
enraged with my dog because it snarled at her, that she 
seized my walking-stick and beat it on the head till it 
was dead. I found her standing over it, white with fury ; 
and feeling that after what I had witnessed I could never 
like her again, I broke off our engagement there and then. 
After that I met Hester Holt at the same house where I 
had first seen Stella, and we at once became friends. 
Stella Dean did not like it, but she took on more than 
was necessary ; and Hester told me there had been several 
very painful scenes between them. Indeed, I understood 
that out of business hours they were not on speaking* 
terms ; hence you can judge of my astonishment whea 
I saw them driving in the buggy side by side.** 



62 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

*• It*s all very mysterious/' Mrs. Bell observed. ** If 
she does not turn up soon, I shall have to inform the 
police." 

The following day, Mrs. Be asked Stella if she had 
gone for a drive with Hester Holt the evening of the 
latter's disappearance, and Stella Dean promptly replied, 
** No ; the last time I saw Hester was when she left here 
that afternoon. She said good-bye to me as usual on the 
other side of the road, and I have never set eyes on her 



since." 



She admitted she had once been engaged to Pete 
Simpkins, but emphatically denied that Hester's keeping 
company with him had led to any rupture between them. 
** Hester and I were always on the very best of terms," 
she said, ^^ and it would be downright mean of anyone to 
allege otherwise. Besides, I can produce proofs to the 
contrary." 

The next day, as Hester was still missing, Mrs. Bell 
told the police. The affair was at once inquired into, and 
Pete Simpkins' story about the buggy was corroborated. 
Someone else had seen the two girls driving towards the 
outskirts of the town that same evening ; whilst a car 
proprietor also came forward and declared that he 
recollected Miss Holt hiring a buggy from him, but that 
she had driven off in it alone. When the buggy was 
brought back, he being out, his wife had taken the money 
for it. But as it was then dusk, she could not possibly^ 
swear to the identity of the lady who had paid her, 
especially as the latter had been so muffled up, presum* 
ably on account of the coldness of the night, that 
practicaUy nothing of her face was visible. She could 
only say Miss Dean resembled her both in build and 
height. 

Stella Dean was now asked if she could produce an 
alibi ; and, accordingly, her mother, a very decrepit old 
lady, declared that Stella had come straight home from 
the office, and had remained indoors all that evening. 
To add to the complexity of the affair, someone else 



• - • » » ■« • 

« • • • • 

« • • • 

> 

• * 

« a • • • 

• <ia >•»• 

• . .«• 

« 

• • • • , .* •• 

• • » . • • 



• - • • 



'^^> 



E3CPERIENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 63 

testified to having seen Hester Holt enter Urs. Britton's 
house with a latch key rather late on the night in ques* 
tion ; and this of course made some people suspect Ifrs* 
Britton, but the police could prove nothing, and the 
matter was eventually dropped. 

All thfs happened about three months before I arrived 
in Denver. 

A week after the disappearance ol Hester Holt. Mrs. 
Bell had a new assistant called Vera Cummings, a very 
material, practical young lady, the daughter of a farmer 
somewhere near Omaha. 

The day after her arrival, Miss Cummings was busy 
typewriting in the. office with Mrs. Bell and Stella Dean, 
when she suddenly exclaimed, *^ How is it that I get 
convulsed with shivers whenever I sit next to you. Miss 
Dean ? I don't when I'm sitting next to Mrs. Bell. Eugh I 
I fed as if the icy east wind were blowing right through 
me. 

'' What nonsense I " Stella Dean replied ; ^* you 
imagine it." 

^* No, I don't," Miss Cummings retorted ; *^ I'm going 
to sit somewhere else," and she moved to the other side 
of the table. 

Mrs. Bell made no comment. An hour or so after* 
wards. Vera Cummings abruptly observed ; 

^* My, Stella Dean, what long legs you have I " 

** Wliat in the world do you mean ? " was the sur« 
prised and rather indignant retort. 

** Why, there's no one else on your side of the table, 
is there ? " Vera Cummings responded ; ^* and some* 
one's feet keep kicking mine." 

'' You're dreaming," Stella Dean said, and Bfrs. Bell 
noticed she turned very pale. 

Two days now passed uneventfully, but on the third 
day after the above conversation, Mrs. Bell and the two 
girls were sitting talking — it was ck>se on the interval for 
tea, and work was just then very slack — when Vera 
Cummings remarked, ** Who is that tall, good«looking 



64 EXPERIENGBS AS A GHOST HUNTER 



girl, Stella, that I've seen following you into the 
en several occasions. I've watched her keepinj^dose 
behind you till you get to the devator, and then she 
disappears. Where she goes I can't imagine.*^ 

** A tally good-looking girl following me to the deva- 
tor/' Stella Dean repeated, her cheeks ashy. *^ What do 
you mean ? I've seen no one. You've dreamt it." 

'' What was she like ?" Mrs. Bell interrupted 

Vera Cummings gave a minute description of her. 

**Are you sure, Stella, we don't know anyone like 
her ? " Mrs. Bell said quietly. ^^ That description seems 
to taUy exactly with someone we once knew. Someone 
ndio used to frequent this place. Can she have returned, 
do you think ? " 

*^I don't know who you mean," Stella Dean said 
erossly. *^ I tell you, I've seen no one." 

The next morning they all three arrived simul* 
taneously, and went up together in the devator. On 
nearing the bfflce, the sound of a typewriter was heard. 
They looked at one another in open-mouthed astonish* 
ment. 

** It must be one of the other clerks in the building," 
Vera Cummings said. ^* She's mistaken our room for 
hers. She's an early bird, anyway, f or|I reckon there's 
no one else arrived yet." 

** But the door's locked," Mrs. Bell whispered. ** See, 
here's the key ! " And she took it out of her pocKet as 
she spoke. 

** Well, there's no mistaking the sound, is there ? " 
Vera Cummings laughed. ** Click, click, dick — ^that's a 
typewriter, sure enough. Someone must have got in 
through the window. My, Stella, how white you are I " 

Mrs. Bell glanced sharply at Stella Dean — there was 
not an atom of colour in her cheeks, and the pupils of 
her eyes were dilating with terror. 

Mrs. Bell then put the key in the lock and opened the 
door. Hie typewriter was working away furiously, but 
there was no one at it, the room was absolutdy 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 65 

empty. It stopped the moment Ifrs. Bell crossed the 
"threshold. 

That afternoon Stella Dean complained of a headache 
and went home early. She was in bed for several weeks^ 
and during her absence from the office the strange 
phenomena there entirely ceased. The morning she 
returned, Pete Simpkins met her and Vera Cwnmings 
just outside the office building. He was bubbling over 
with excitement. 

** She's come back ! *' he cried. ** Come back, and 
never sent me a word. I am glad though . • . Hoorah ! ** 

*^ Come back ! '' Stella Dean said, drawing herself up 
stiffly and regarding him with an angry stare. ^^ Who 
are you talking about ? '* 

" Hester Holt ! '' Pete Simpkins ejaculated. " She's 
just gone into your place. Didn't you know ? " 

Miss Dean made no reply. She simply pushed past 
him and walked in. Vera Cunmiings, however, dawdled 
behind. 

^* What's Miss Holt like ? " she asked anxiously, 

Simpkins described her. 

** Why that's the girl I used constantly to see following 
Stella," she said. ^^ Where she disappears to is a mystery, 
but it's only one of the many funny things that have 
happened since I've been here." 

She then told him about the typewriter and the feet 
under the table. Pete Simpkins repeated the story to 
his friends. Rouillac got hold of it, and hence, as the 
reader already knows, it was handed on to me. 

Rouillac was most anxious that I should go with him 
to the haunted office straightaway, but it so happened 
that I had work to finish in a given time, and it was 
therefore arranged that he should call for me one day 
the following week. 

At the hour appointed, he came. ** I fear it's no use," 
he said ; ^' the office is closed, and it is impossible to get 
permission to go there. It's come about like this. The 
day after Stella Dean returned to work, Mrs. Bell was 



66 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

away — ^ill — and the two girls were alone. Some time after 
they had started work, it might have been eleven o'clock 
or thereabouts. Vera Cummings got up to get a drink of 
water, and in passing chanced to look at Stella Dean. 
The latter was leaning forward in her chair and staring 
with an expression of the utmost horror in her eyes at a 
despatch case on the floor, which was oscillating violently 
to and fro. Vera noticed that the despatch case was 
marked on one side with the letters ' E[. H.' * That's 
odd,* she cried. * What makes it do like that — it joaa't 
be due to vibration, because there's nothing going by 
outside. How do you account for it, Stella ? ' 

** * I don't know,' Stella Dean gasped, making a 
vigorous attempt to appear unconcerned ^ ^perhaps 
they're shunting something heavy downstairs.' 

^^ * But we should hear them,' Vera Cummings replied. 
* I believe it's Hester Holt ; she's dead, and for some 
mysterious reason her spirit haunts this room.' 

** * Nonsense,' Stella Dean stammered. ^ How can you 
be so silly 1 There are no such things as ghosts.' 

** After a while, the case stopped shaking, and the two 
girls went on with their work. Lunch time came and 
they both rose to get ready to go out. Vera Cummings 
had put on her hat, and was walking to the door, when 
she heard a sharp cry. She turned round, and there was 
Stella Dean standing in front of the looking glass and 
gazing at the reflection of a pale face, with two dark 
menacing eyes glaring fixedly at her from over her 
shoulder. Vera recognised the face at once. It was that 
of the girl she had so often seen following Stella, \he girl 
Pete Simpkins had told her was Hester Holt. 

*' She was so frightened, for she knew for certain now 
that the thing ^e was looking at was nothing earthly, 
that she ran out of the room, and as she crossed the 
threshold, the door slammed bdhind her with a terrific 
a*ash. Ashamed of her cowardice, she tried the door* 
handle. It turned, but though she pressed her hardest^ 
the door would not open. She called to Stella, there 



•i 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 67 

was no reply. Greatly alarmed^ she ran to the elevator 
and fetched the man in charge of it. They both pushed 
the door, and still it would not open. They were 
deliberating what to do. When they saw the handle 
suddenly turn and the door gently swing back on its 
hinges. They peered in. Stella Dean was lying on the 
hearthrug in a dead faint. She died that same night.** 

" Died ! " 

** Yes I Some people fancy she committed suicide, but 
her mother declares that her heart had long been affected 
and that she died from syncope. Anyhow, she*s dead* 
and the office is closed, as nothing will persuade Vera 
Cummings to work there till Mrs. Bell is well enough to 
return. I tried to get permission to spend a night there, 
but Mrs. Bell dare not give it. She says the landlord is 
furious with her for allowing the report to get abroad 
that the building is haunted, and threatens her with a 
libel action if he hears anything further." 

" That's a great pity," I said ; ** for few cases have 
interested me more." 

What do you make of it ? " Rouillac asked. 
Why," I replied, " the same as you. There can only 
be one conclusion. Stella Dean was madly jealous of 
Hester Holt, and during that drive in the buggy she 
killed her. Whether the murder was premeditated or 
done in a sudden fit of blind passion — ^you tell me her 
temper at times was very uncontrollable — of course we 
cannot say. From your sketch of her, however, I am 
inclined to think she planned the whole thing." 

** But what could she have done with the body ? " 
Rouillac said. **The police searched everywhere." 

** So they say," I observed ; " but the track Simpkins 
was on when he passed the buggy affords countless 
opportunities for concealing a body. It is full of deep 
ditches, creeks^ and crevices, covered with a thick and 
rank vegetation, and the police would take at least a 
century to explore it. Besides, from what I know 
of the super-physical I do not think for one moment 



ii 



K. 



68 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

that Stella Dean was haiinted without some poignant 
reason." 

" Was haunted I " Rouillac observed. 

^^ You said she was dead, didn't you ? " I exclaimed. 

" Yes," Rouillac replied slowly, " there's no doubt 
whatever on that point. She's dead right enough. But 
when Vera Cummings passed by the office this morning, 
she saw Stella Dean enter it— Stella Dean just as she 
looked when alive, only very white and in abject terror. 
She passed right in through the half -open do(Mrway, and, 
as usual, Hester Holt followed her." 



CHAPTER VI. 

CASES OF HAUNTINGS IN ST. LOUIS, NEW YORK, AND 

CHICAGO 

One of the most extraordinary men I have ever met was 
Ephraim B. Vandergooch, who, at the time of my travels 
in America, practised dentistry in 6th Street, St. Louis. 
Dentists are not, as a rule, the people to associate them* 
selves with ph3rsical research, and it is just as well for 
their patients, perhaps, that they are not, for sitting up 
all night in dark houses looking for ghosts has an un- 
steadying effect on the nerves — ^it is apt to make one 
** jumpy " — ^and if a dentist's hand were to jump, it is 
more than likely that his patient would jump too. Mr. 
Vandergooch, however, was an exception. He was a 
ghost hunter, and his investigations had but a slight and 
temporary effect on his nervous system. His hand was as 
steady as a rock, his wrists like steel. I went to him to 
have a tooth filled, and during the operation I asked him 
if he knew of any haunted houses in the town. 

He was a stranger to me then, and of course I expected 
a superior smile, if not an actual sneer, for, as I have said, 
dentists are, as a rule, anything but psychics. To my 
surprise, however, he took me quite seriously, and said he 
knew of several haunted places in St. Louis, and that 
nothing interested him more than really first-hand ghost 



I 



70 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

stories. He told me he had had an experience himself , 
and narrated the following : — 

" A few years ago," he began, " I learned of a haunting 
in a street of rather older houses than these, close to here ; 
and as the evidence in this case was to a large extent 
corroborative, I decided to investigate it. It was 
Christmas time, and the thought of earthbound spirits 
pacing up and down cold, empty houses, when all around 
was warmth and jollity, depressed me. I felt that I must, 
now that an opportunity had come, try to see them, and 
if possible do something for them. 

^* I set out on Christmas Eve, and I admit that when I 
left the cheerfully lighted thoroughfare, and plunged into 
the dark silent emptiness of the house, my heart almost 
failed me. Apart from ghosts there were so many possi- 
bilities, and what more likely than that some tramp or 
criminal had forced an entrance, and was hiding some- 
where on the premises. For a few seconds I stood and 
listened, and then, feeling a trifle more assured, I closed 
the door gently and advanced cautiously along the wide 
hall. At each step I took I became more and more 
sensitive to an atmosphere of intense sadness and 
desolation — an atmosphere of intense loneliness, loneli- 
ness that is without hope — that is perpetual and absolute. 
It could be felt in all parts of the house, but more par- 
ticularly, perhaps, in the kitchen, which was built out at 
the back on the groimd floor. I had never been in such a 
dreary and inhospitable kitchen. The night was bitterly 
cold and the bare stones sent chilly currents up my legs 
and back, into my very brain. 

^^ To remain in such a hole till morning was assuredly 
courting pneumonia or rheumatic fever. I looked at the 
range, it was covered with rust and verdigris. If only it 
could be lighted I Then I uttered an exclamation of joy, 
for lying in one comer was a pile of wood — ^boxes, shdves, 
faggots, etc., intermingled with an assortment of 
other rubbish. In my early days I had lived on a ranch 
out west, and the experience I had had there now came in 



C4 

44 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 71 

useful. In a few minutes there was a loud crackling, and 
the kitchen filled with a ruddy glow. A couple of dresser- 
drawers served me for a seat, and I was soon ensconced in 
a tolerably snug position, from which, however, I was 
prepared to spring at a moment's notice. 

The hours sped by, and the silence deepened. 
At last, just about two o'clock, when I was beginning 
to think nothing would happen, I heard a door slam 
somewhere upstairs. This was followed by a series of 
creaks, and I heard someone cautiously descending the 
stairs. A great fear now seized me, and had I been able, 
I should doubtless have beaten a hasty retreat. Instead, 
I was possessed with a kind of paralysis, which rendered 
me quite helpless and prevented me from either moving a 
limb or uttering a sound. The creaks came nearer — 
down, down, down, untU quite suddenly they stopped, 
and I heard a cough. 

*'*' It was repeated — cough, cough, cough. The cough 
of a delicate, neurotic woman. At first it simply startled 
me — ^it sounded so distinct, so reverberating, so real. 
Then it irritated me, and then it infuriated me — almost 
drove me mad. * God take the woman,' I raved. * Will 
she never cease.' 

^^ Cough, cough, cough. A nervous, hacking cough, a 
worrying, grating cough, an intensely silly, murder- 
instilling cough. I could see the owner of it — upstairs, 
hidden from me by impenetrable darkness, and yet quite 
distinct — a slight, pale, excessively plain little woman, 
with watery eyes and a quivering mouth. Heavens, how 
the mouth maddened me I On she went — cough, cough, 
cough 1 She was stUl coughing, when I suddenly became 
aware of a presence dose beside me, and I saw in the glow 
from the dying embers the figure of a man seated at a 
table in the middle of the kitchen. He appeared to be 
trying to write, but to be unable to collect his thoughts. 
Every now and then he paused, dashed his pen down, 
and clenched his fists furiously. At first I could not 
understand his behaviour, and then it all of a sudden 



4( 



72 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

occurred to me — ^the coughing, of course. That perpetual 
noise, that everlasting hacking — ^it distracted, demented 
him. I watched him with feelings of infinite sympathy. 
At last, unable to stand it any longer, he sprang from 
his seat and dashed upstairs. 

"" I heard him race up two steps at a time. No madman 
would have raced faster or more nimbly. Then came a 
strange variety of sounds — ^a gratuitous course in 
phonetics— €ui altercation, more coughing, oaths, bump- 
ing, a scream, a thud, a little feeble cough, silence, and 
then rapidly descending footsteps — ^a man's footsteps. 
I did not wait for them. The spell that had hitherto held 
me limb-tied now abruptly left me, and I fled out of the 
building — ^home. 

" The next day — Christmas Day — ^I made my report 
to the owner of the house, and told her exactly what had 
happened. 

" ' Gk>od heavens I ' she exclaimed, * and he's married 
Maisie ! Swear that you will never tell a soul, no one, not 
even your most intimate friend, and I will give you an 
explanation of what you witnessed.' (^^ All this 
happened years ago," Mr. Vandergooch remarked, *^ so 
it's all right my telling you now.") I promised, and 
she at once began. 

*' Ten years ago the occupants of the house you've 
been in were a weU-known dramatist and his wife, whom 
I will call Mr. and Mrs. Charles Turner. Mrs. Turner 
was exactly like the woman you imagined — ^frail, small 
and very plain ; whilst her husband would tally with the 
man you saw in the kitchen — ^a tall, muscular, handsome 
m^n. He obviously married her for her money, poor 
soul, for there was nothing in her to attract him, and 
everyone could see how she irritated him, especially 
when she coughed — ^in fact, he often said to me, *' You 
don't know, Mrs. Wehlen, how Eva annoys me. When- 
ever I am in the midst of my work, trying to concentrate 
my thoughts, she starts her infernal coughing — ^I can 
hear her all over the house — ^hack, hack, hack." ^ She 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 73 

can't help it, poor thing,' I replied. * You ought to feel 
sorry for her.' * Feel sorry for her,' he said, * You'd feel 
sorry for her if you were tormented as I am. I believe 
she does it on purpose.' 

'* ' Well, one evening — ^to be precise, it was Christmas 
Eve — ^Mrs. Turner was found at the foot of the hall 
staircase with her neck broken. There was no direct 
evidence as to how she came there, but as one of the 
stair-rods was found loose, it was presumed that she fell 
^ over it, and, accordingly, a verdict of accidental death 
was returned. Charles Turner left the house directly 
afterwards, and a few months ago married my niece, 
Maisie. As far as I know, what you have seen has never 
been seen by anyone else, but coughing in the house has 
been heard, and it is quite plain to me now that Charles 
Turner murdered his first wife. I only pray to Heavcin 
he won't serve Maisie the same.' 

*' But he did," Mr. Vandergooch added, " for she, too, 
was found at the foot of the staircase with her neck 
broken ! In all probability she had possessed some 
idiosyncrasy that worried and annoyed him ; or, possibly 
having once taken to murder, he felt he must go on with 
it — ^the habit of homicide being, no doubt, just as 
fascinating as the habit of drugs or of drink. 

** Nothing, however, was proven, and, for all I know 
to the contrary, he may still be alive, still be killing 
people to appease his hyper-sensitive and outraged 
nerves." 

This experience of Mr. Vandergooch made me think ; 
and eventually led to my devoting no small amount of 
attention to psychology and criminology. From what a 
variety of influences, it seemed to me, any one act might 
be induced, and to what innumerable and varied causes 
any one crime, for instance murder, might be traced. A 
minute bone pressing on a certain section of the brain, a 
stomach continually overladen with beefsteak and other 
animal food, over-excited nerves, the sight of some 
locality, such as a wood, an object, such as a knife, all 



74 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

may lead to the same thing — the desire to kill ; whilst, 
at the same time, the superphysical, through the agency 
of some evil spirit continually whispering to its selected 
victim the arrestive, the compelling thought, almost 
enforces any and every sort of crime. Seeing, then, that 
in every act of cruelty or violence it is more than likely 
that either one or other of these factors has been at 
work, is it fair that we should so readily condemn and 
therewith rest content ? 

True, it may be, and, I believe, it is expedient to 
punish the criminal, but siu*ely it is even more urgent 
that we should make ourselves thoroughly acquainted 
with his case, so that we may if possible discover the 
factor that conduces to his crime, and then either destroy 
or counteract it. 

From St, Louis I went to New York, where I lodged in 
a fifty cent, hotel in West Quay. 

It was not a particularly elevating neighbourhood, but 
it was one that boasted of several haunted houses. I 
was taken to see one of them — a small store that supplied 
seamen's kits — ^by a fellow lodger, who, if I remember 
rightly, bore the name of Boxer. The proprietor of the 
store was a Swede ; his name I cannot quite recall, it 
was, I believe, Jansen, or something like Jansen. He 
was at first extremely reticent, but on my assuring him 
that I was not in touch with any of the New York 
journals, and would not connive at his story getting into 
print, he agreed to tell me what had happened. 

Calling his wife, a plain, stolid-looking woman, dressed 
in a neat and spotlessly clean print gown, he led the way 
upstairs to the top landing. There he stopped opposite a 
closed door, in front of which stood a large oak chest. 
*• That's the room," he said ; " we've barricaded it like 
that to prevent the children going in. When we first 
came here, my wife, and I, and oiu* youngest child. 
Bertha, slept there. But we none of us Uked the room, 
and we soon began to have very disturbed nights. I had 
ghastly nightmares, and so had my wife. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 75 

** And Bertha too," Mrs. Jansen chimed in ; ** she 
used to dread being left alone in the room even for five 
minutes, and us^d to cry till one or other of us went to 
her." 

'* That's right enough," Mr. Jansen interrupted ; " and 
Bertha's never behaved like that since we moved her 
into another room." 

" Well, we experienced nothing more disturbing than 
bad dreams for the first fortnight or so, and nothing 
happened until we were both aroused one night by 
hearing Bertha scream. We lit a candle and got out of 
bed. * What is the matter,' I asked ; ^ are you in 
pain ? * ' No, Poppa,' she said. * Not in pain, but -so 
frightened. I kept hearing the bed creak, and I thought 
one of you was coming out of it to kill me.' 

*' * Why, what nonsense,' I said. * You've been 
dreaming again, child.' Then, turning to my wife, I 
remarked, * If she has many more of these nightmares we 
had better send for the doctor. Don't you think so ? ' 
My wife made no answer, but suddenly gave a cry and 
pointed at the bed. ^ Otto ! ' she cried. ^ Look at the 
clothes ! We never left them like that. What's happened 
to them ? ' I looked. The clothes were all heaped to- 
gether down the centre of the bed exactly in the shape df 
a human body, with the face turned towards us. 

**' We all three stared at it in open-mouthed silence^ 
and the longer we gazed, the more pronounced grew the 
features, until they at last became so lifelike, so evil^ 
that my wife and I instinctively shrank back against the 
child's cot, and tried to hide the thing from her. My wife 
declares she saw it move." 

*^ It did," Mrs. Jansen said. ^^ I saw it distinctly shift 
nearer to us. So did Bertha." 

** I know you were both agreed on that point," Mr. 
Jansen went on. ^^ All 1 can say is I didn't see it do 
that, but I started praying, and whether it was the effect 
of my prayers or not, the clothes gradually became 
clothes again, and, after soothing Bertha, we scrambled 



L 



76 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

back into bed, feeling rather ashamed we had been so 
frightened. 

" The following evening after Bertha had been put to 
bed, we heard her scream again, and we ran up and 
found her quivering under the bedclothes. She said our 
bed had begun rattling, just as if we were moving in it. 
On turning to examine it, we found the clothes just as 
we had seen them in the night, with one of the pillows 
pressed and moulded into the speaking likeness of a face. 

" As I looked at it, the features became convulsed with 
£»uch an indescribable expression of hellishness that I 
backed against the table and upset the light. 

" On re-lighting it, the thing on the bed had dis- 
appeared, and the clothes were once again normal. That 
same night, some time after we were in bed, I awoke to 
find myself being roughly shaken by the shoulders. It 
was my wife, but, perhaps I had better let her go on with 
the story." 

*^ I shook him,'' Mrs. Jansen explained, " because a 
feeling had suddenly come over me that I must kill 
Bertha. The very first night we slept in the room I 
became obsessed with a passionate desire to see someone 
die^ a desire that I can assure you was absolutely novel 
to me, because I flatter myself I am naturally kind- 
hearted and extremely sensitive to seeing other people 
suffer." 

** She's kindness itself," Mr. Jansen observed. 

*' Well," Mrs. Jansen went on, " the feeling became so 
unbearable, that fearing I should actually be compelled 
to kill someone, I awoke my husband and begged him to 
tie my hands together ; which, after some hesitation, he 
did. Bertha was crying bitterly, and told us she had 
again heard creaks in the room, just as if someone was 
getting out of bed to murder her. That was the last 
time we slept in the room. I felt it was a positive danger 
to spend another night in it, and so we removed into the 
one we are sleeping in now." 

" And has it never been occupied since ? " I asked. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 77 

" Yes, for one night,*' Mrs. Jansen replied. " A niece 
of mine, Chaxlotte, came to stay with us, and as we had 
nowhere else to put her, she had to sleep there. We went 
to bed rather late that night, and I dreamed three times- 
in succession that Charlotte was creeping down the stairs- 
with some strange weapon in her hand, with which 45he 
intended killing Bertha. Bertha was then sleeping alone 
in the room facing ours. 

" The third dream was so vivid that I awoke from it 
bathed with perspiration. I told my husband, and he 
said, ^ Well, that's curious, for I thought I heard someone 
moving about overheard. Til go and see if anything is 
amiss.' He opened the door, and, going on to the 
landing, discovered Charlotte tiptoeing cautiously down 
the stairs, holding a long, glittering pair of scissors in her 
hand, and with an expression on her face similar to that 
on the face in the bedclothes. * What are you doing 
here ? ' my husband demanded, and Charlotte at once 
dropped the scissors and began crying. She told us that 
no sooner had she got into bed, than she felt like another 
person. It was just as if someone else's soul had crept 
into her body. All her old sentiments and ideals 
vanished, and the maddest and most unholy ideas- 
presented themselves in rapid succession to her mind. A 
blind hatred of everyone in the house possessed her, and 
she was seized with the most ungovernable craving ta 
kill. For a long time she fought against this mania, until 
at last, unable to restrain it any longer, she got out of bed 
and sought some weapon. Cold hands, she declared, 
seemed to guide her to the scissors, and armed with them, 
she crept downstairs, just as I had seen her in my sleep, 
determined to butcher Bertha first, and then, if possible, 
my husband and myself. 

" She pleaded om* forgiveness and begged to be 
allowed to go home first thing in the morning. * I do not 
feel I am responsible for my behaviour,' she said. * I 
never had the slightest inclination to do anything of the 
sort before. I am sure it's that room. There's some 



78 EXPERIENCnSS AS A GHOST HUNTER 

sinister influence in it, and if I go back to it, I'm certain 
I shall do something dreadful/ 

^^ She spent the rest of the night on the sofa in the 
parlour, and shortly before lioon returned to her parents. 

^^ After that we locked up the room and had this chest 
placed against the door, as you now see it." 

^* Do you know the history of the house ? '' I asked. 

^^ Only that before we came here," Mrs. Jansen saidp 
^^ there were several sudden deaths. I do not think any 
of them were actually attributed to murder, though they 
were all due to rather extraordinary accidents. Origin- 
ally, I believe, the house was an inn, kept by a woman 
who bore a very evil reputation, and we have always 
wondered if the hauntings had anything to do with her." 

^* I suppose you couldn't tell whether the face formed 
by the bedclothes was a man or a woman's ?" I re- 
marked. 

Not, perhaps, by the actual features," she responded, 

only by the expression. I can't explain how, but it 
was an expression which at once explained to me its sex, 
and that sex was not masculine." 

As I have said, this was not the only case of haunting 
in West Quay that I heard of during this visit of mine to 
New York, but it is the only one of sufficient interest 
to note here. Two equally interesting cases, perhaps, 
came my way when I was travelling West. The one was 
in Boston, the other in Chicago. I will deal with the 
Chicago one first: — 

A banker in Chicago, to whom I had a letter of intro- 
duction, hearing that I was interested in ghosts, showed 
me a house close to Michigan Avenue where he had had 
a somewhat novel experience. 

** Some years ago," he said, ** that house had the 
reputation for being very badly haunted, and not by one 
ghost, but by dozens. It was then occupied by an eccen* 
trie old millionaire, whom I will call Mr. Hoonigan. Mr» 
Ek)onigan had a velry curious hobby. In a room, which he 



«4 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 79 

named Duckdom, he had a collection of the most ex- 
quisitely wrought models of women, clad in costumes L 
which must surely have cost thousands of pounds. They 
were all made in Paris, and many of them had once stood 
in windows in the Rue de Rivoli. I have never seen any- 
thing to equal them ; their eyes, hair, and finger nails 
were not only beautifully coloured and moulded, they 
were most natural and life-like. Mr. Hoonigan wor- 
shipped them. He used to spend hours a day sitting 
before each of them in turn, fondling their hands and 
making love to them in the most exaggerated fashion. 
Mad ! Yes, of course, he was mad ; but his madness did 
not always take such a harmless form. In a room 
opposite Duckdom, which he named Devildom, he had 
collected the models — some fifty or more— of murderers, 
and other criminals of the lowest type, besides a hetero- 
geneous assortment of the most revolting objects. 
Amongst these objects were images of the South Sea 
Islands and Mexican gods ; figures in wood and stone, 
representing ghosts and demons ; cases full of mummies 
and skeletons ; weapons that had once belonged to 
murderers and still bore traces of their victims' blood ; 
scalping and flajring knives ; and a variety of ancient 
instruments of torture ; whilst to accentuate the horror 
of the room as a whole, paintings such as only a brain in 
the most advanced stage of myorbid disease could have 
conceived covered the walls. Mr. Hoonigan did not 
make a practice of showing his collections promiscuously, 
he was far too jealous of them, and I do not suppose there 
were ten people in Chicago who knew of their existence. 
Indeed, it was only with the very greatest difficulty that 
I got his permission to view them. He allowed no 
servants to sleep in the house, and when I went there one 
evening to see his treasures, he opened the door to me 
himself. * Do you see this ? * he cackled, pointing to the 
brown muzzle of a revolver, which showed itself from 
under his coat. * Well, I have two more of them, and tiie 
house is full of pitfalls, all admirable inventions of my 



80 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

own, and warranted to upset the calculations of even the 
most experienced cracksman.* * Have you ever been 
troubled by burglars ? ' I asked, glancing over the 
shoulders of the queer old figure before me, and letting 
my eyes wander round the great hall, dimly lighted and 
full of many suggestive nooks. ' Yes, several times^' he 
said, ^ and once, one actually got in. He is here now.' 
* Here now ! ' I cried. ' Why, you surely don't mean to 
say that youVe reformed him and kept him as your 
servant ? ' 

^' Mr. Hoonigan chuckled, and his yellow fangs re- 
minded me unpleasantly of the blunt and rusty teeth of a 
saw. ' Not exactly,' he said. * He fell into one of my 
traps. You will see him later in my little chamber of 
horrors. He's been there ever since.' (This seemed a 
trifle indiscreet ; but Mr. Hoonigan knew he could trust 
me. You see, I was his banker, and business means 
business in Chicago.) 

" * But come,' he continued, ' I will show you Duck- 
dom first, because you will then the better appreciate its 
opposite. There is nothing like contrasts to teach you 
true enjoyment.' He stepped into an elevator, and we 
went up, passing storey after storey, all dark, silent and 
deserted. At last we stopped, and getting out, entered a 
brilliantly illuminated room. ' Here they are ! ' Mr. 
Hoonigan exclaimed. ' Let me introduce you to my fair 
women friends.' I looked round, and there before me 
was a vast assemblage of women, all of them richly 
dressed in the very latest fashion. All beautiful, how- 
ever, and all most artistically posed ; some sitting, some 
standing, some lying at full length on rugs and sofas. 
They were so absolutely natural that it took me some 
seconds to realise •they were only models — ^models in 
wax. Mr. Hoonigan approached one, and taking its 
hand, pressed it reverently. * When I die,' he said, * I 
shall be placed here, and the room shall be hermetically 
sealed. I want no other heaven.' He then took me 
across the landing to another room. I had been prepared 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 81 

for a shock, but not for the kind of shock I got when the 
door opened, and a hell, seething with devilry — ten 
thousand times more devilish than the devilry of Dante's 
Hell — was suddenly thrust under my very nose. I 
recoiled, and Mr. Hoonigan, perceiving my fright, play- 
fully pushed me in. When we were well in the midst of 
them, he pointed with great glee to several of the most 
notorious murderers, and insisted upon my picking up 
and examining their weapons. He then made me sit on a 
garotting chair, which he had quite recently purchased in 
Cuba, and when I was thus seated, he thrust a skull on 
my knee, which he said was that of a Red Indian Chief, 
who had for certain skinned alive with his own hands a 
whole famUy of whites. 

^^ By this time, as you may think, I had had enough of 
it, but, as Mr. Hoonigan truly remarked, there wa^ so 
much to be seen ; besides, he must, he said^ whilst I was 
there, show me a stock of engravings which he had just 
bought in Madrid. They dated from the reign of Philip 
IL, and represented, in grim detail, all the horrors of the 
Spanish Inquisition. But this was not all. Their chief 
interest, according to Mr. Hoonigan, lay in the fact that 
the inquisitors — ^to quote Mr. Hoonigan's own words — 

* Just as an appetiser — an hors d'oeuvre, don't you 
know,' used to give them to their victims to examine 
before they commenced to torture them. 

**' At the conclusion of this exhibition I managed some- 
how to get away, and was walking to the elevator, when I 
saw something slink past us. I turned round, and in the 
gloom could only see, indistinctly, the form of a man of 
medium height, with a thick-set, brutal figure, and 
ambling gait. I could not see his face. He seemed to 
walk right through the door, which was shut, into the 
room we had just vacated. ^ What is it ? ' Mr. Hoonigan 
asked. Somewhat nervously, I told him. ^ Ah,' he said, 

* that's only one of them, and one of the least terrifying. 
You didnt know, I suppose, that the house is haunted. 
From your description I should say that what you have 



82 EXPERIENCES ASJA GHOST HUNTER 

just seen is the ghost of the burglar I told you about. 
But there are other ghosts — ^if you like to term them so — 
that are most troublesome. I have had to give up 
sleeping on this landing. I sleep on the ground floor 
now, with the electric. light full on» all night.*'' 

The case of the Boston ghost came to my notice in a 
very direct fashion. I only stayed in the town twd 
nightSy and chance led me to put up in an hotel which I 
learned bore an undeniable reputation for being haunted. 
It was in rather a poor neighboiu^hood — at least poor for 
Boston — and there were few visitors ; indeed, on the 
landing where I slept, no one. I spent all my first day in 
the town sight-seeing and visiting relatives whom I had 
never met before, and I did not get back to the hotel till 
very late. The place was dimly lit and oppressively 
silent. 

'^ Am I the last in ? " I asked the night porter, who 
rubbed his eyes wearily and yawned. 

" Yes, sir,*' he said ; *" the other guests have been gone 
to bed two hours or more. It's close on one." 

*^ What part of Ireland do you come from ? " I en* 
quired. 

" County Limerick, to be sure," he said ; ** but you 
couldn't tell I was Irish 1 " 

" At once," I said. " What were you over there ? " 

^^ I was working on the roads," he said, ^* and before 
that I was in the Army — ^in the Inniskillings." 

" What date ? " I enquired. 

He told me, and it then transpired that he had enlisted 
in that regiment when one of my uncles was a major in it, 
and he remembered him well. We were thus talking 
away and recalling episodes of the long past, when I 
heard a familiar sliding kind of noise, and broke ofi in the 
middle of a sentence. 

" Surely, that's the elevator,'* I exclaimed. " I hope 
our talking has not disturbed anyone." 

" I don't think so, sir," he said. " At any rate, I 
shouldn't trouble myself about it." His voice sounded so 



• > 



• ' 









••• 



• > 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 83 

strange, I thought, and there was such an odd, furtive 
look in his eyes, that I became curious, and walking 
across the hall, arrived on the other side, just in time to 
see the elevator come slowly and softly down. 

To my astonishment there was no one in it. 

" How's that happened ? " I remarked. ** No one 
called it, and had they done so we must have seen them." 

** I can't say, sir," the porter replied, looking very 
uneasy. 

" Well, it's certainly rather odd," I ejaculated. ** Any- 
how, it's chosen to come down at a very convenient 
moment." And, getting in, I went up. 

The following night I returned late, and entered the 
vestibule of the hotel just as the elevator stopped. 

" Does it come down at the same time every night ? •' 
I asked the porter. 

** Yes, sir," he muttered, " every night." 

*^ And the reason ? — ^there must, of course, be some 
reason. An elevator can't start off unless someone or 
something starts it." He was silent. *^I see there's 
some mystery attached to it," I persisted. *^ What is 
it ? Tell me." He remained obdurate for some seconds, 
but eventually succumbed. 

For goodness sake, don't^ let on, sir," he said, 
because the boss has forbidden any of the staff to 
mention it, and if he f dimd out I'd told you, he'd sack me 
at once. This hotel is haunted. Several years ago, 
before my time, a visitor arrived here late one night and 
was found by the day porter dead in the lift. How he 
died was never exactly known ; it was rumoured he had 
either committed suicide or been murdered. It was never 
found out who he was or where he came from, and, as he 
had no money on him, he was buried like a pauper. Well, 
sir, ever since then that elevator has taken it into its head 
to set itself in motion at the same time every night. 
Sometimes the gates clang just as if someone were getting 
in and out. At first I usedn't to like it at all. You can 
imagine, perhaps, what it's like to know that you are the 



«i 



84 BXPSRIBNGES AS A GHOST HUNTBR 

only person about ia a place of this sort — and then to 
hear the elevator suddenly beginnmg to descend. How*- 
ever, by degrees, I got accustomed to it, and if that was 
all that happened, I shouldn't mind." 

'^ What else does happen ? " I asked« 

**I can't tell you, sir. Would you like a bit of 
exercise ? " 

" I don't mind," I said. " Why ? " 

*^ Will you try the staircase, then, instead ot the 
elevator ? Count the stairs and note carefully when you 
come to the forty-first." 

I agreed. The stairs were narrow and tortuous, the 
light meagre, and soon I began to feel very, very far from 
my friend the porter, and very much alone in the build- 
ing. This feeling increased the further I proceeded, until, 
at last, it became so unbearable that I involuntarily 
halted. I had conscientiously counted the steps. I was 
at the thirty-ninth. I looked aroimd me. High over 
head was a kind of funnel formed of black, funereal, and 
apparently never-ending banisters ; below me was a 
similarly constructed pit. The flickering gas-light 
brought into play innumerable shadows. I tried to look 
away from them, for their gambols were impleasantly 
emphasized by the ominously oppressive silence, but they 
fascinated me to such an extent that I was forced to 
watch them, and, whilst I was thus engaged, I became 
suddenly aware of a presence. Something I could not 
see was standing on the staircase, a few steps ahead, 
barring my way. I advanced one step, and with a 
tremendous effort I struggled on to the next one. Then 
the most frightful, the most overwhelming, diabolical 
terror seized me, and turning round, I tore downstairs. 

** Well," the door porter said, " you've come back. 
Couldn't pass it. No one who tries to do so at this time of 
night ever can." 

'' What is it ? " I gasped. '' What is the beastly 
thing ? 






EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 85 



(« 



I don't know," he replied ; ^* no one knows. This 

place was once a madhouse, I believe, and perhaps ^*' 

** Ah, well," I said, ** I can understand it now. Thank 
goodness I'm leaving to-morrow, and as it's a choice of 
two evils, I'll go up in the lift.'' 



CHAPTER VII 

▲ HAUNTED WOOD AND A HAUNTED QUARRY IN CANADA 

All my ghostly experiences in the United States were of 
"^ indoor hauntings, consisting mostly of the visitation of 
phantasms of the dead, who in earthly form had either 
suffered or committed some deed of violence. I never 
met with a psychic experience out-of-doors, though I 
only too well realised the possibilities of such when I was 
sleeping by myself on the ranche in Oregon, or riding 
alone through the giant forests of the Cascades moun- 
tains. 

I believe all the loneliest parts of America, the great, 
bold Rockies, the vast Calif omian and Oregon forests are 
periodically visited by ghosts — ghosts of murdered 
soldiers, of scalp-raising Indians, fo tramp suicides^-of 
all manner of evilly-disposed white and red people, and of 
neutrarians, spirits that have never inhabited earthly 
bodies^ and which are as grotesque and awe-inspiring as 
the fantastically carved boulders and queerly shaped tree 
trunks with which those parts are so lavishly bestrewn. 

America, indeed, affords one of the wildest fields in the 
world for the genuine ghost hunter. I use the word 
genuine advisedly, for I would differentiate between the 
ghost hunter who is genuine, and the professor of physics, 
who expects the Unknown to be subservient to his beck 
and call. I say, then, for the ghost hunter with a kindly. 



N 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 87 

sympathetic nature, the ghost hunter whose thoughts are 
more often on the spiritual than the material plane, and 
who would earnestly seek the chance to succour and 
comfort a lost soul, the United States of America gives 
the greatest scope. 

From what I have heard, for I have never been there, 
Canada also is a much haunted country. An account of a 
haimting there was given me by a French Canadian^ 
Bertram Armaud, whom I met with his wife one day at 
an hotel in New York* Though born and educated in 
Canada, he had served in the French Army, and had 
spent a considerable portion of his life in France and 
Algiers. He had now retired, and it was on the occasion 
of his quittal of the Army and return to Canada that the 
event I am about to narrate, and which I give as nearly 
as possible in his own words, occurred: — 

*^ My home,'' he began, ^* was in a small town called . 

Garvois4* to the South- West of Winnipeg, which, at the ^>^ ''a-^^*^ 
tune of my adventure, some ten or twelve years ago, was "t^w-n . 
nothing like the size it is now. ^ ^,j 

** I had got out of the train at Winnipeg, and dined at yr^'^^ftr<*t 
an hotel, and the evening was well set in before I rose c^^JuH JU 
from my comfortable seat before the fire and prepared , ^ * 
for my long tramp. cJAA^^^r'^ ^ 

" * If you take my advice, sir,' the landlord said, * you 
will avoid the wood of Garvois after dark.' * And why, 
pray ? ' I asked. * Because, sir,' he responded, * because 
it bears an evil reputation.' 

** * An evil reputation I ' I laughed. * Ma foi 1 it must 
bear a very evil reputation, a positively devilish reputa-* 
tion, to frighten an old soldier like me. Why, man alive, 
I have served in the French Army in the wildest regions 
of Algiers for years. A wood with an evil reputation, 
mille tonnerres, — ^that's a joke I shan't forget in a hurry.' 
Then seeing him look glum, I remarked, for I had no wish 
to hurt his feelings, ^ I can appreciate your intended kind- 

* I am])not sure of the proper spetUng of the word, as the wrltktg 
in my original notes has become so very illegible in places. 



88 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

ness, but you see I have been away from home for ten 
years — ^ten whole years, and I am dying to see my father. 
He is the only relative I have — ^therefore you can gather 
that I want to go by the quickest route, and the road 
through the wood, if I remember rightly, is twice as 
short as that by the plain. Is it not so ? ' 

*^ The landlord shrugged his shoulders. ^ Yes,' he said, 
^ the road over the plain is longer — certainly it is longer — 
and if you go by it you won't arrive at your father's 
house till morning, but, monsieur, if you go by the wood 
you may never reach home at all.' 

*' *' I will risk it,' I laughed ; ' there can only be robbers 
or wolves, and I am prepared for either. I have these 1 ' 
And I tapped the ends of two six*shooters. *At all 
events, if anything happens, I will haunt the wood, and 
you may come and see me. Au revoir 1 ' I waved my 
hand as I spoke, and putting my pack in the proper 
place on my back, I stepped airily on to the broad, brown 
track leading to Garvois. 

^^ Within an hour of my departure, the weather, which 
had been abominably cloudy for the time of the year, 
took a sudden turn for the worse, and the rain descended 
in torrents. I chuckled grimly, Mr. O'Donnell, for what 
after all are the discomforts of sodden clothes and 
squishy boots compared with what a soldier has to 
undergo in Africa — ^in the Sahara, where the sun is hell 
and the insects — devils. Rain, Mon Dieu 1 What's rain 1 
On and on I tramped, whistling gaily and running my 
hand over my pack now and again to see that everything 
was safe. I had a present there lor my father, whom I 
loved more than anyone else in the world. * You see,' he 
added with a smile, * I hadn't met Jacqueline then.' 

** Well, so long as I kept to the main track there was 
not much to complain about — ^it had recently been 
attended to, but the moment I turned off it, and on to the 
side one leading to the wood, my troubles began. Deep 
ruts, big holes, huge earth mounds, and sharp-edged 
stones made it bad enough in dry weather ; it was now a 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOSTT HUNTER 89 

quagnure — a quagmire that afforded every possibility of 
soon becoming dangerous. 

'* t had seen nothing like it since I was in Algiers, but, 
bah ! a soldier can get used to anything. ^ It is a mere 
nothing/ I said to myself. * I can dive, I can swim ; it 
will take more than cold water to kill me ; and if it were 
twenty times as bad I would face it.* Ten years is a long 
time to be away from one*s home, Mr. O'Donnell. I 
trudged on, and was soon ankle-deep in black mud. At 
eight o'clock I was confronted by a long line of huge, 
black trees, that bent their dripping tops as if they had 
orders to salute me. Coming to a halt, and leaning 
against a slender, isolated pine, that creaked and 
groaned in the rough night air, I ruefully surveyed the 
prospect in front of me. The track through the wood 
was twelve miles — ^nothing of a walk if I had been fresh 
and the weather dry, but in my present condition a 
seemingly impossible one. For the last hour or so I had 
expmenced nothing but a recurrence of slips and falls, 
I had done nothing but plunge in and out of abysses, and 
I had been completely battered to pieces by the wind. 
And the rain I I can stand any amount of heat, Mr. 
O'Donnell, but wet, no, it gets into every pore of my skin 
and completely demoralises me. I was exhausted, 
almost at the end of my tether, and I felt a very little 
more would see me on the ground, absolutely done. 
Now, of course, I am used to sleeping out of doors all 
night ; but, then, Canada is not France, neither is it 
Africa, and the warmth and dryness of the Sahara had 
made me terribly susceptible to chills. A night in this 
wood would mean for certain either pneumonia or 
rheumatic fever — and I might never get home to see my 
father. So what alternative was there ? Only to tramp 
back again over that dreadful track, and take the long 
route over the plains. I couldn't do it ; I hadn't the 
strength. I would struggle on. I did so — ^I took the 
plunge. The desert, with the lights twinkling far away on 



90 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

its extremities^ was speedily hidden from view ; trees shut 
me in on all sides ; I was at last in the forest. Ihadnever 
known what it was to be nervous, but the silence I now 
experienced disquieted me. I had never felt anything 
like it. It struck. me as an assumed silence — assumed 
purposely to cloak a deep-rooted and universal resent- 
ment. Moreover, I had an uncomfortable suspicion that 
it was the prelude to something hostile — to some 
peculiar antagonistic demonstration, the very nature of 
which was at present enigmatical. It was a silence 
savouring of a world other than ours— of a world I knew 
nothing about — ^indeed, at that period of my life I was an 
atheist, and neither believed in a God or a future exis- 
tence. The rain pattered heavily on the foliage overhead* 
and the wind groaned, but the voices— the voices of the 
beings in this Unknown World — ^were still, absolutely 
still. In the gloom the trees assumed strange shapes ; 
their motions, too, were strange — so strange that I did 
not think they could possibly have been caused by the 
wind. You may think I am hyper-imaginative, Mr. 
O'Donnell, but I do not think I am ; my wife would tell 
me if I were, for she has never been slow in pointing out 
my faults, have you, Jacqueline ? '* 

Mrs. Armand smiled. *^ No, Mr. O'Donnell,'* she said, 
*^ he has many faults, but exaggeration is not one of 
them ; indeed, he is so precise as to be sometimes dull." 

Mr. Armand continued : *^ I saw lights, too, Mr. 
O'Donnell," he said ; ^' all kinds of coloured lights, which 
I did not then attribute to possible spirit agency. I 
simply did not know what they were. I was not afraid, 
but I became wiuy , and moved furtively forward, as if I 
had been scouting in some enemy's country. Every now 
and then I fancied I heard soft steps that I could\associate 
with nothing human, stealing surreptitiously behind me. 
I paused and looked carefully over my shoulder, but there 
was nothing visible— only the gloom. At length the 
darkness became so intense that I could no longer see the 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 91 

track. I continued to advance, however, and after 
plunging through a succession of bogs and briars was 
finally brought to a peremptory halt by a stone wall. 
This wall was four feet or so in height, but what lay on 
the other side of it, or where indeed it began or ended, it 
was impossible to decide, and I was wondering what on 
earth I had better do next — for my energy was nearly 
spent — when a voice suddenly called out, * Keep along by 
the wall and I will meet you at the wicket gate ! ' Over 
joyed, I obeyed. The wall swerved sharply rotmd, and a 
few yards beyond, with one hand on the gate and in the 
other a dark lantern, stood the slight, muflQed-up figure of 
a woman. In a few words I explained the situation — 
how in the blinding rain and darkness of the forest I had 
lost my way, and was too exhausted to go any fiurther.. 
* I don't mind sleeping anywhere,* I pleaded, * so long as 
I can lie where it is dry and rest till morning. An attic, 
bam, anything will do.' 

*^ ^ I think I can offer you something better than that,' 
the woman responded, as she led me through the gate and 
along a narrow winding path to a large, low, rakish- 
looking house, whose black walls, rising suddenly out of 
the groimd before me, seemed startlingly familiar. My 
guide halted — a key turned, a door flew open — ^there was 
a rush of strange, musty air, and almost before I had 
time to realise it, I was inside the building. * I must 
apologise for the absence of light,' the woman said, ^ but 
under the circumstances the omission is unavoidable. If 
we had been expecting you,it would, of course, have been 
different. If you will follow me, I will take you to your 
roouL* I tried to see her face, to make out what she was 
like, but I was frustrated in my desire by the way in 
which she held the lantern. Nor was I any mote for- 
tunate in the discernment of my surroundings ; I could 
see the ground at my feet, but no more ; all-~everything 
— ^was shrouded in an impenetrable, sable mantle. The 
curious feeling that I had been there before, that I knew 



92 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

the house well, again came over me, although prior to 
now I had never seen any habitation in the wood, nor 
even known that one existed. I argued it was probably a 
scent — some peculiar odour in the atmosphere that had 
conjured back memories of some other and quite distinct 
place ; but I had not much time for speculation, as the 
woman's movements were very quick, and I had barely 
scraped the thickest of the mud from off my feet before 
she had begun to ascend a luxuriously-carpetted stair- 
case. We crossed what I took to be a landing, and 
stepped some score or so paces down a corridor, finally 
halting before a half -open doorway. 

'* * There is your room,' she said. ' You need have no 
fear — ^the linen is well aired, and of course,* she added, 
slightly sniffing, ^you may, if you like, open the windows. 
We have been obliged to keep them closed, owing to the 
damp. Good-night ! ' 

^^ She turned to go, and just for the fraction of a 
second I saw her face. It was exquisite. My wife will 
pardon me for saying my wildest dreams of woman's 
beauty were not merely rivalled, they were surpassed. I 
doubt even if so great a painter of feminine charms as 
Richter could have done her credit. Who was she ? I 
kept asking myself that question long after she had left 
me, and the echoes of her high-heeled shoes along the 
passage and down the stairs had ceased. Who was she f 
Ma foi I The vision of such loveliness would never leave 
me. I would enjoy them over and over again in my 
sleep. Indeed, I was so obsessed with her face that I pidd 
little or no heed to the novelty of the situation. At other 
times I might have queried the desirability of being in a 
strange bedroom in a strange house — ^in the dark. But 
the knowledge she was near at hand was quite enough for 
me. 1 was already in love with her — and the queerest, the 
most perplexing of predicaments were as nothing to me. 
I soared above — God alone knew how high above-— 
dilemmas. Still, when I came to argue it out with myself. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 9» 

it was a bit of a ntusanoe my matches were sodden and I 
oould not use them. I would have preferred seeing the 
bed upon which I was to lie, and a spot where I could lay 
my clothes, I was so afraid of soiling the upholstery that 
I undressed where I stood, and then, making a guess at 
the direction of the bed» walked cautiously forward. By 
a piece of luck, which struck me as somewhat extra* 
ordinary, I collided with the bedstead — a large brass one 
— almost immediately. 

*^ It was the work of a second to throw back the sheetg 
and scramble in between them, and then, with my mind 
full to overflowing with visions of my newly-foimd 
goddess, I entrusted both her and my father to the safe 
keeping of the Virgin and the Saints — this though I had 
no faith in a future for myself — and sank into a deep 
refreshing sleep. 

*^ How long I remained in that condition I never knew. 
I woke with a start to find the room no longer dark, but 
partially illuminated with a fitful red glow which pro- 
ceeded from the stove, now f uU of lurid logs. Thinking I 
must be dreaming, I rubbed my eyes. But no ; the fire 
was still there, and even as I gazed at it I caught the 
sound of approaching footsteps — ^the sharp rat*tat of 
high-heeled shoes. Nearer and nearer they caihe, right 
up to the entrance of my room, when, to my astonish- 
ment and no little embarrassment', the door gently 
opened, and in tip-toed the object of my admiration, lii 
one hand she carried a long-handled iron spoon, and in 
the other a candle. I was entranced. Now that she had 
taken off her hood and cloak, beauties hitherto con- 
cealed stood out in dazzling fulness and bewitched me. 
Never had I seen such a wealth of rich golden hair, such a 
perfect nose and chin, such tiny ears, carmine lips, white 
teeth, black-lashed, china-blue eyes, white tapering 
fingers, rosy, almond-shaped nails, and such a heavenly 
figure. My wife, Mr. O'Donnell, bears me no animosity* 
You don't, do you, Jacqueline ? " 



s. 



/ 



94 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

" No, no," Mrs. Armund laughed. "I understand you. 
All men are the same. . Oo on and tell Mr. O'Donnell 
more about your goddess.** 

" You are right," Bertram Armand exclaimed. " She 
was a goddess — ^at least my idea of one, then. What did 
she want ? I sat. up in bed, and was about to speak to 
her, when she laid a finger on her lips and smilingly bad&-^ 
me be Isilent. She then glided to the grate, and taking 
from her pocket a small lump of lead, carefully put it into 
the spoon, which she balanced with the utmost care on 
the brightest of the faggots. That done, she again 
smiled meaningly at me, and walking to the dainty 
dressing-table, strewn profusely with rings and bracelets, 
looked long and critically at herself in the mirror. It 
was while she was thus occupied that I suddenly became 
conscious of something or someone close to me. In a 
moment my heart ceased to beat ; in deadly fear I 
glanced roimd, and perceived, lying by my side, an old 
man with long, grizzled hair and beard, whose features 
were somehow vaguely familiar to me. He was soimd 
asleep — a fact betrayed by his breathing, which was loud 
and stertorious. A slight movement from the other part 
of the room attracting my attention, I looked up, just in 
time to see the girl flash me a look of subtle warning. 

" ' Don't wake him, whatever you do,' her eyes said ; 
* he mast sleep on.' • - 

" ' Don't wake him,' I repeated to myself ; ' why, of 
course I won't. I wouldn't do anything — ^no matter what 
— ^if you told me not to ; I would obey you even at the 
risk of life and soul 1 ' Dieu en ciel I How lovely 1 

" Cautiously — ^first one daintily clad foot and then the 
other — ^the girl approached the stove. She lifted the 
spoon carefully from the fire, bore it steadily before her 
to the bed, and gaily motioning to me to keep quiet, she 
gently turned the sleeper's head over on the pillow, and 
with a dexterous movement of her clever, supple fingers, 
poured the seething, hissing lead into his ear. There was 



; the girl flash r 



^ 



» » » 



■.*■■. 



' fa 






• ' - % 



■# 
^^i? 

s 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 95 

an agonising scream — ^the eyes of the old man opened 
convulsively, and in the brief glimpse I caught of them, I 
recognised my father. 

** Almost simultaneously came a loud crash, blinding 
darkness, and I was once again in the forest — God knows 
how — pursuing my way laboriously along the mud-laden 
track. 

** At early dawn I arrived within sight of Garvois — 
Garvois bathed in a cold grey mist, and a little later I 
dragged myself with difficulty towards the wicket gate 
leading to my father's house. To my intense surprise it 
was padlocked, but the mystery explained itself at once — 
standing upright in the garden was a notice-board, bear- 
ing the inscription, * To be Let or Sold.' I swayed on my 
feet as I looked at it, and with a bursting heart reeled 
away to the nearest house — ^the house of my old friend* 
Henry Crozier. 

" Henry had just awakened — he invariably got up at 
five — and shuffling downstairs, he opened the door. 

" * Le diable 1 ' he exdidmed, * tf it isn't Bertram 1 
Ma f oi I I was dreaming of you last night. So you've 
come back 1 ' 

^^ ^ Come back to find the place empty 1 ' I murmured. 

* But, tell me, my friend, where's my father ? ' 

" Henry's eyes grew round with astonishment. 

* What ! ' he said. ' What ! you don't know ? ' Then, 
seeing my look of utter stupefaction, he added : * My 
poor Bertram ! Tour father is dead 1 He died a fort- 
night ago, the very day after his marriage with Made- 
moiselle Marie Demille, the niece of his last housekeeper. 
What killed him ? Apoplexy. It does not do to dispute 
the doctor.' 

" ' But the woman — ^the woman ? What was she 
like ? ' I stuttered. 

" * Why,' Harry enunciated slowly, * she was what 
some people would call beautiful, though, as God is my 
judge, I did not admire her. Fair, very fair, a mass of 



96 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 



washed-out yellow hair» painted lips — oh, yes, anyone 
could see they were painted — and big, very big eyes — 
ehina-blue and smiling — name of a name— eternally 
smilingJ 



f 99 



fi 



This was Bertram Armand's account of his experience* 
In answer to my questions he told me that he had 
searched the wood thoroughly, but there was no house of 
any sort in it, and afterwards, having had his father's 
body secretly exhumed, and finding lead in the ear, he 
had obtained an order for the arrest of his 8tep*mother. 
She was, however, nowhere to be found, and he supposed 
that, having got wind of the affair, she had escaped out 
of the country. 

Armand told his story with every appearance of 
sincerity, and as I could see that his wife believed it, I 
have no doubt at all that it was true. 

• ••••• 

The case of another haunting in Canada was told me on 
my way out to the States, on board one of the White Star 
Liners. 

My place at table was next to a Doctor and Mrs. 
Fanshawe, both Canadians, who, hearing that I was 
interested in everything connected with the super- 
physical, told me that they had had several rather 
curious experiences. The doctor took from his breast- 
pocket a small leather purse, and, opening it, showed me 
a dull, blue stone. 

^^ Are you a geologist ? " he asked. 

'^ No," I replied. ^^ I know nothing whatever about 
stones. What is it ? " 

'^ No one has ever been able to tell me,'* he said. '^ I 
have shown it to several Professors at the English 
Universities and they have each classified it differently. 
Not one of them, I believe, had ever seen or even heard of 
a stone like it. And for a very simple reason. In Canada 
there is much soil that has never been disturbed, and 
many tracts of land no white man has ever trod. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 97 

*^ But let me explain how the stone came into my 
possession. Five years ago we took a house situated 
about four or five miles from Montreal. It was a long, 
low, two storey house, standing a little back from the 
road, and connected with it by a semi-circular sweep of 
gravel road. Opposite the house was a large pit, where 
quarrying had recently been begun, but had been dis- 
continued, owing to the calcinous nature of the rock, 
which rendered it of little use for building purposes, 
jbicessant rains had formed a deep pool in the bottom of 
the ^it, and the water possessed this idiosyncrasy — the 
weather made no difference to its temperature — it was 
icy cold in stimmer and winter alike. 

** Viewed in the day-time, the quarry struck one as 
ordinary enough. It was at dusk, when the shadows 
from the trees and bushes swept across the road and 
dimmed the mouth of the great pit, that it impressed one 
as unsavoury. I remember marvelling at this metamor- 
phosis the first day of our arrival. It was July, and the 
landscape was vividly aglow with brilliant, scintillating 
sunbeams. A more radiant scene you could not imagine. 

* One might make a capital swimming bath of this,* I 
remarked to my wife, as we wandered to the edge of the 
pit and peered down into the silent, sparkling water. 

" * Yes,* she laughed. * Supposing we start right 
away. I never appreciate a bath more than after a 
journey.* 

^^ That was in the morning. In the evening the place 
produced a very different impression. We had dinner — 
the sort of scratch meal one must expect when one is 

* moving in,* and I had strolled out alone. I first of all 
explored the premises. There was a big garden with an 
orchard alongside, and a small field beyond; and I 
pictured to myself how nice it would all look when 
the grass was properly cut and the flower-beds 
planted by my wife, who, by the way, thoroughly 
understands landscape gardening. Tou do, don*t you, 
Mabel ? ** 



98 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

Mrs. Fanshawe nodded^ and her husband resumed his 
story. 

^^ I lit asiother cigar and walked out into the road to 
have a look at the quarry. I hardly recognised it. It 
seemed, since the morning, to have undergone a com^ 
plete change. The banks appeared higher and more 
precipitous, the water blacker and infinitely deeper, and 
there was a cold dreariness about the place that made me 
shiver. I thought I had never viewed anything so 
uttedy forlorn and murderous. On the opposite bank 
were a few rank sedges and several white trunks of 
decayed trees. I had not noticed them before, but now, 
as I gazed down at the pool, I saw their re-modelled and 
inverted images outlined with a cleamess that moce than 
rivalled that of their material counterparts. 

*^ I was pondering over this phenomenon, when I 
suddenly felt I was being watched, and, raising my eyes, 
I perceived on the bank facing me, just out of reach of 
the water, a boulder of ebony«*black and grotesquely* 
wrought rock. I could not see anything behind it, but I 
was convinced that something was there, something that 
was crouching on its haunches and glaring savagely at 
me. I also felt convinced that this thing, which I could 
not actually see — though I knew for certain it was there 
— ^was some strange hybrid of a man and animal ; a 
thing with limbs like ours, but the face of some fantastic, 
mocking, malevolent beast. 

*^ Filled with a great uneasiness and all manner of 
vague fears, I hurried back to the house, where all was 
bright and cheerful, but I could not rid my mind of the 
impression it had taken from the pool, and that night 
my dreams were troubled and alarming. 

^* I said nothing about it to my wife, but two days 
later, when I was mending my fishing-rod in the study, 
she came to me in a great state of agitation* ^ Why, 
what's the matter, Mabel ? * I asked anxiously ; ^ you 
look very white ! Are you ill ? ' ' No,* she said. * Tve 
only had a shock.* " 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 99 

At the doctor's request, Mrs. Fanshawe then took up 
the thread. 

'^ I was walkmg down one of the side-paths of the 
garden," she said, *' looking for Ephraim (Ephraim was 
our gardener), when I heard a great rustling of leaves. I 
turned round and saw a violent agitation going on in the 
branches of an apple-tree. Much m3rstified, as I could 
see no 6ause for it, I approached nearer, and as I did so 
I distinctly heard some heavy body drop to the earth 
with a thud ; I then felt something brush past me. I > 
can't exactly describe the sensation it caused, because it 
is beyond words. I can only say I felt I was being 
touched by something immeasurably foul and antagon- 
istic. I reeled right back, and that moment someone 
spoke. It was the gardener who came nmning towards 
me to ask if he could go home, as his wife had suddenly 
been taken ill." 

" That was all that happned, then ? " 

** No," Mrs. Fanshawe replied. '* That night, after we 
had been in bed some time, we were awakened by hearing 
our Newfoundland dog, Pat, bark. I went downstairs to 
see what was the matter with him — ^he slept in the house 
— and found him standing in the hall with his hair all 
erect, looking at the window by the front door. 

^* I called to my husband, and he came down with his 
revolver. We then both went to the window and looked 
out, but could see no one. * I'm sure Pat sees something,' 
I observed ; * he is beside himself with terror.' * What is 
it, Pat ? ' Dick said, and was about to stroke him, when 
there came a violent hammering at the door. We looked 
at one another in dismay. * Who's there ? ' Dick cried, 
and, there being no reply, he fired^ — ^the bullet going 
right through the door. We threw it open— there was no 
one there. We then searched the garden (nothing would 
persuade Pat to accompany us), but we found no one. 

" For a week after this incident we were undisturbed ; 
then all sorts of noises were heard in the house — soft 
footsteps, heavy breathing, the rattling of door handles, 



^ 



100 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

and — ^most alarming of all — loud crashes on the door 
panels. The servants were terrified. One of them 
roused us one night by loud shrieks, and going to her 
room, we found her in hysterics. AU the clothes had been 
stripped off her bed and thrown in a promiscuous heap on 
the floor. When she recovered sufficiently to speak, she 
told us something had come into her room and tried to 
suffocate her — she felt just as if all the breath in her body 
was being forcibly sucked out of her. She had seen 
nothing. We told her it was a nightmare, and tried to 
soothe her, but our endeavours met with little success, 
and in the morning she was seriously ill. She died within 
a fortnight, and on the same day as the gardener's wife.** 

" Did the gardener's wife live on the premises, too T " 
I asked. 

" Practically," Mrs. Fanshawe replied. " She and her 
husband occupied a cottage close to." 

" Did both women usually have good health ? " 

" Rather," Dr. Fanshawe laughed ; " they were as 
tough as horses — ^rosy-cheeked, strong-limbed, typical 
young Canadians. Heart and lungs absolutely sound. I 
diagnosed their cases and was much puzzled. On the 
top of violent shocks, which had apparently upset their 
whole constitution, they had developed acute anaemia. 
Why do you ask ? " 

** Merely because of an idea," I replied ; " but pray let 
Mrs. Fanshawe finish her story, and then, if you like,^ I 
will tell you what my idea is." 

" Well," Mrs. Fanshawe continued, " I haven't much 
more to relate. On the night after our maid's funeral, 
we were again disturbed by Pat barking. I got up and 
went to the bedroom window. The weather was very 
unsettled. Clouds scurried across the moon, that hung 
like a great silver ball over the St. Lawrence River, 
which I could see winding its mighty course in the 
distance ; spots of heavy rain were falling, and the wind 
whistled dolefully through the leaves of the maples. 

^^ Suddenly I heard the soimd of heavy footsteps 



• J ■» » • • « 

« • 

» • • ■» 

• • « 









« * « a 
• • • ■ 

» •> • • 

• • •> • 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTSR lOt 

crunching their way along the gravel drive. * It will be 
nothing visible/ I said to myself » and then I got a pretty 
acute shock. Coming towards the house with short, 
quick steps was a tall figure, with its head bowed low. 
Its arms and legs were very long and bony, the feet and 
hands enormous. It was quite nude, and from all over 
its body» which was of an exaggerated whiteness, there 
eiiianated a strange, phosphorescent glow. I called to 
Dick, and he at once joined me. The Thing came right up 
to the window, and then raised its face. If I live to be a 
thousand years old I shall never forget what I saw. The 
proportion of the face was not human, and it was par* 
tially covered with hair, but the eyes were the same 
idiape as ours, only very much bigger. They were pale, 
almost white, I thought, and their expression " 

** Don't talk of it," Dr. Fanshawe interrupted. " One 
can only say it was too damnable, too utterly vicious and 
loathsome for words." 

•* We were so overcome," his wife went on, ** that for 
some seconds neither of us could articulate a syllable. 
We both stared at it in hideous fascination. At last it 
made some slight movement, and Dick, released from the 
'spell that held him, fired at it. The bullet must have 
gone right through it, for we saw the gravel on the path 
immediately behind it spurt up and scatter. However, 
the figure was unharmed, and it moved on towards the 
front door. Dick fired again, but with no better result. 
A fearful horror now seized us, lest it should get into the 
house. I am not a religious woman, but I prayed, and as 
I did so I saw Dick throw something. What he threw 
seemed to strike the thing full in the face, and it van- 
ished. As we got back into bed, I said to Dick, ^ That 
wa» very odd ! What did you throw ? ' " 

^^ ^ A stone I picked up near the quarry this morning,' 
he replied. ' I don't know why I threw it, but directly 
you started praying, a feeling came over me that I must.' 

** We were not disturbed again that night, but slept 
better than we had done for some time, and in the 



m : EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

morning Dick found and showed me the stone— *the stone 
you are looking at now. We had it fixed to the front 
door, and after that we were not troubled again.'* 

^^ There was no history attached to the place/' Dr. 
Fanshawe added, '^ and no one we spoke to had ever 
heard of its being haunted. Now, what do you make 
ol it ? " 

*^A fairly satisfactory case," I replied, *^ because I 
think this stone affords a clue to part of the mystery at 
least. When I was out in the West, I was told by some 
Indians of the Rogue River tribe, whom I was delighted 
to fall in with, that when a place of theirs was l^unted, 
they kept the ghost quiet by burying a piece of blue rock, 
which is to be found in the lava beds of that district, but 
is very rare. Now in all probability this custom is not 
confined to the Indians of one tribe, but is more or less 
universal ; therefore we need not be surprised to find a 
piece of this blue rock buried elsewhere.** 

^' But there are no Indians in this neighbourhood,** 
Mrs. Fanshawe remarked. 

" Not now,'* I said, " but undoubtedly there ivere 
once. My supposition is that this place has a history. It 
was once badly haunted by spirits of the most dangerous 
type, which, for want of a better name, I will style 
neutrarians. 

^^ These neutrarians are spirits that have never in* 
habited material bodies, and are only to be found in very 
remote and isolated districts, where the soil has rarely if 
ever been disturbed. They are invariably antagoni^ic 
to all forms of animal life, probably, because, if they were 
created first, which is quite feasible, they regard man as 
an interloper, and, probably, also because they covet 
man*s body and are jealous of him. Many of the Indians 
believe that man is descended from the gods, and neu- 
trarians from devils, and that the latter feel the distinc- 
tion and hate man accordingly. Neutrarians vary 
considerably both in appearance, habits and ccmstitution. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 103 

Whilst some can apparently reveal themselves at will^ 
others can only do so by stealing vitality irom hwnaa 
beings or animals. Let us now see how all of this applies 
to the present case. When you came to your house you 
did not get the impression it was haimtol ; * it was only 
when you looked at the quarry — ^it was there you received 
your first impressions — and they were» in all probability, 
correct. I believe a great deal in first impressions, par* 
ticularly with regard to the superphysical. This theory, 
too, namely, that the hauntings originated in the quarry^ 
finds support in the fact that you f oimd the blue stone 
close to the quarry, and that the figure you both saw 
coming along the carriage drive was coming from that 
direction. The blue stofie^ I believe, had been buried ^T^ 
there and was dug up when the quarry was made ; thus 
the stopper, so to speak, which kept the ghost in check 
being removed, the haimtings of course reconmienced. 
Belonging to the species that cannot manifest itself with* 
out drawing vitality from some form or other of animal 
life, this neutrarian first attacked the gardener's wife, and 
then the maid, selecting these two on account of their 
unusual robustness. Had you not thrown the blue stone 
at it, and afterwards fixed the stone to your door, it is 
more than likely that you would both have succumbed/' 

^^Then many diseases that have defied diagnosis, and 
there are countless such," Dr. Fanshawe exclaimed, 
"may very probably be due to neutrarians." 

** I think it is very likely," I said. ** I have noticed, 
for example, houses, where several people have been 
medically stated to have died of cancer, have been 
haunted by disturbances of a parellel nature to those you 
experienced." 

" But are such hauntings to go on for ever ? " Mrs. 
Fanshawe asked. " Is there no means of putting an end 
to them, saving by blue stones ? How about exorcism ? * - 

^^ I am not sure on that point," I said. " I certainly do 
not think that neutrarians or the spirits of imbeciles can 



r 



104 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

be exorcised satisfactorily, as I have known several cases 
of hauntings by these spirits in which exorcism has been 
practised, and in no instance has it had any effect what* 
soever. I should say hauntings by neutrarians might 
last indefinitely ; I see no reason why they should not. 
Have you made any enquiries lately about the house ? *' 

** No," Mrs. Fanshawe replied, " not for some time. 
When we get back to Montreal, we will do so, and let you 
know.'* The conversation ended here. 

A year later I received a letter from her husband. 

I have been to the house," he wrote, *^ and the present 
occupants are leaving almost immediately. There have 
been three deaths there during their tenancy, and they 
complain of exactly the same disturbances that alarmed 
us. I have lent them the blue stone." 



i4 



s 



CHAPTER VIII 

HAUKTENOS IN THE EAST END 

Haying eome to the conclusion that it was quite im- 
possible to earn a living in America, I returned to England 
as a steerage passenger on the German liner ^^ Elbe." 

It was the last homeward journey she was destined to 
^ go» for she was run into on her next outward voyage by 
\ the ^' Crathie," several hundred miles off the East Coast 
of England^ and sunk with an appalling loss of life. The 
weather being particularly rough, we were about nine days 
at sea ; and the fact that our quarters were extremely 
close, consisting of little more than a square foot to each 
person, coupled with food that I could not eat, made me 
sincerely thankful when the time came to go ashore. 
Apart from these details I had nothing to complain of in 
the way I was treated, for the crew — ^though barely con- 
cealing their hearty contempt for all but the first-dass 
passengers — ^were to me civil enough. At the same time 
the experience — an experience I had not bargained for — 
was one I certainly do not desire to go through again. 

I shall never forget how glad I was to find myself once 
more in an English restaurant, sitting down to a good, 
square English meal. I spent two nights in Southampton, 
travelling thence to London* 



106 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

On arriving at Waterloo, I found myself almost as 
embarrassed as I had been in New York, for my know- 
ledge of London was extremely limited. I had only been 
there — excepting when I was up for my Sandhurst Exam. 
— ^for an odd day occasionally, and then I had always 
stayed at a private hotel in Cambridge Street, Hyde 
Park. Now, however, my fimds being no longer equal 
to the West End, I was forced to look elsewhere for a 
lodgings After a wearisome search, I at last found a 
room in Tennyson Street, S.E. That room will take a lot 
of forgetting. It was Very small, very dark, and very 
beetly. I could hear whole armies of blackbeetles 
parading the floor and scaling the walls. Occasionally, 
one dropped with a thud seemingly dose to me, and I 
sprang out of bed in terror, lest it had landed on the 
counterpane. I honestly believe I am as much afraid of 
cockroaches as I am of ghosts. 

I only stayed in that house three days, and then moved 
into the attic of a coffee tavern in York Road. That was 
midway in the 'nineties, and York Road then was very 
different from what it is now. In the day-time it was fidl 
of f rowsily dressed men and women and the foetid steam 
from the cheaper kinds of restaurants. 

I well remember one shop that boasted of hot rabbit 
dinners for fourpence ; and big pork pies, that had a 
peculiar fascinaticm for blue-bottles, were sold there, all 
the year round, for threepence. I often wondered how 
many people those pies kiHed, and how any man could be 
such a villain as to sell them. 

But if York Road was mean and squalid in the day* 
time, it was infinitely worse at night. I have never in any 
other street in London seen such an endless processitm 
oi women of the unfortunate class. They were neatly 
all German, and their hard, crud faces should have 
been a suffident warning to anyone to give them a 
mde berth. I haven't the slightest doubt that many of 
the young men who were foolish enough to be enticed 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 107 

l^ them were ruthlessly robbed, and not mfrequently 
murdered. 

One very nasty incident took place just under my 
window. It was in the depths of December, and the snow 
lay thick on the ground. Will anyone who experienced 
it ever forget that Christmas of 1894. I was laid up with 
influenza, and was lying awake coughing, when I heard a 
loud shriek, followed by an oath, and a series of groans 
and gurgles. Then someone whistled, and a cab came up, 
after which all was quiet for a few minutes, when a crowd 
collected and a babel of voices arose. 

In the morning my landlady, with a very white face, 
told me she had seen it all through her window ; she 
slept in the basement, and had been too horrified to 
move. It appears that, shortly before midnight, a man 
had hidden in the doorway of the house, as if waiting for 
someone, and about ten minutes later a woman had 
eome along, whom he hurled to the ground, and 
stabbed. When the woman had ceased groaning, the 
man whistled, and a cab came up. The driver, getting 
down from his seat, helped lift the woman into the 
vehicle ; he and the murderer then dimbed into the box, 
there was the crack of a whip, and the cab was gone. A 
few minutes afterwards a couple of policemen appeared 
on the scene, talked for some time, and then walked away, 
after which the street remained silent till dawn. 

I went out and looked at the scene of the incident. 
Hiere was abundant evidence on the doorstep and 
window-sill as to what had taken place, and seeing the 
people next door looking at it, I asked them if they had 
heard anything in the night. They shrugged their 
shoulders. ^^ It's quite a common occurrence in this 
neighbourhood,'* they said, ^' and it would never do for 
us to take any notice of it. If we did, we should certainly, 
sooner or later, share the same fate as that woman." 
Thus, no attempt was made to bring the miscreant to 
fustice, and the matter ended. 



108 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

During the time I was with her, my landlady was 
robbed twice. On the first occasion two boys came into 
the front part of the shop and asked for some sandwiches. 
Whilst the landlady's daughter, who was alone behind 
the counter, was serving them, one of the boys snatched 
up a ham, the other threw down a chair, and both flew 
out of the shop. The girl rushed after them, but of 
course fell over the chair. Her cries brought her brother 
Bert and me to the rescue, and we set off in pursuit of the 
thieves. Although they had got some distance, Bert, 
being an astonishingly fast sprinter, had nearly caught 
them up, when the foremost of the boys abruptly halted, 
and, whirling roimd, flung the ham right at him. He 
ducked, and the ham landed with a splash in a puddle of 
rain water. Picking it up, we bore it triumphantly home, 
and it was soon resting on the coimter, I hope — since it 
was to be sold as usual — ^none the worse for its adventure. 

Episode number two did not end quite so happily. A 
young man with a clean-shaven face, and innocent, big 
blue eyes came to look for rooms. He spoke with a 
strong American accent, and said he was travelling for a 
well-known firm of jewellers in Boston. Whether it was 
the eyes, or thoughts of gold bracelets and pearl pen- 
dants, I cannot say^— perhaps it was both ; anyhow, the 
landlady's daughter beamed on him, and from that day 
forth I became a person of second importance, if, indeed, 
of any importance at all. Whatever he said was law, and 
whatever he chose to wear was ** most elegant." Then 
something happened, for which I was not altogether un* 
prepared. He came down one morning carrying a some- 
what bulky parcel, which he told the landlady's daughter 
was his dress suit. '* It's too small for me," he said. 
^* This bracing climate of yours has given me such an 
appetite, I've grown fat. I'm going to take it to the 
tailor down the street to see if he can enlarge it for me. 
By the way, can you change me this sovereign f " He 
handed her a coin, and I saw him smile tenderly. Theii 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 109 

he went out of the shop with a pile of silver in his hand — 
and never came back. The sovereign was of course a bad 
one, and, worse still, the dress clothes were a new suit of 
Bert's, one for which he must have given at least three 
pounds. 

I was not idle all the time I stayed in York Road. I 
was thrown on my own resources and had to find some 
means of making a livelihood. Expensive though my 
education had been, it was of little practical use to me 
now. The only subjects I knew anything about were 
those required for the Sandhurst and R.I.C. Examina- 
tions, and they in no way fitted me for business. A 
board-school youth with a knowledge of book-keeping 
and shorthand stood a much better chance of obtaining 
a clerkship than I did. It was a bitter revelation to me. 
I had always been brought up with the idea that breed 
and manners were a valuable asset. 

I now discovered that without money and influence 
they were a handicap rather than otherwise. The 
majority of employers I interviewed were certainly not 
gentlemen, nor apparently did they care to have any- 
thing to do with such ; all they wanted was smartness in 
figures and the capacity of standing prodigiously long 
hours imd any amount of bullying. I worked for a week 
in an office in Lewisham. My employer was a kind of 
jobbing stockbroker with a florid face and yards of gold 
watch-chain. My hours, as far as I can remember, were 
from nine to six, with twenty minutes interval for lun*' 
cheon. The second day I was there I was kept at work till 
after seven, and the foUowingday, by way of retaliation, I 
took a good hour over my lunch. When I got back to the 
office, I thought my employer would have died of 
apoplexy. I have never seen a man in such a fury. 

" What do you think I pay you for ? " he shriek^ ; 
" to eat r ' 

" You haven't paid me yet," I responded ; ** it will be 
time enough to give way to your emotions when you 



no BXPERIENGBS AS A GHOST HUNTER 

have. You kept me here last night an hour longer than 
the time agreed. Very good I You get an hour less -wofk 
out of me to-day. What's sauee for the goose is sauee 
:|^ lor the gander/* 

He raised his thick, podgy hand, and I thought he was 
going to strike me, which I hoped he would do, for I have 
always been very fond of boxing, and a scrap with hiHi 
just then wotdd have been as nectar to me. To my 
astonishment, however, he suddenly subsided, and, 
walking out of the room, left me to go on with my wbrk 
undisturbed* I left the oflBice punctually at six that 
evening, and for the few remaining days I was with Iftm, 
the prearranged hours were rigidly adhered to. That wa6 
my one and only experience in business. I tried to get on 
the staff of a newspaper, but although I wrote to almost 
every editor in London, I did not succeed. I am con- 
^ vinced that no post, outside that of a reporter, for which 
I had neither the training nor the inclination, dstn be 
obtained without the investment of money or colossal 
influence. 

I managed, however, to do some free lance work, and I 
derived no little interest and amusement, though not 
much remuneration, interviewing for a weekly journal 
called '^ Theatricals." The first man of any note I met 
was the late Sir Augustus Harris, to whom I introduced 
myself on the stage of Drury Lane. It was during a 
rehearsal of the pantomime, at which, if I remember 
rightly, Harry Nicholls, Herbert CampbeU, Dan Leno, 
and many other favourites of those times were present. 
Sir Augustus listened to what I had to say with great 
courtesy, and told me to go to Mr. Neil Forsyth. I did so, 
with the restdt that I was offered a small post on the staff 
of the theatre. I was grateful to Mr. Forsyth, who was 
one of the very kindest men that ever breathed, but apart 
from the smallness of the salary, there were obstacles in 
the way, and so I had to refuse. 

About this time I met a girl with whom I became 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 111 

madly inf atuated, and when she refused to marry me» I 
seriously eontemplated suicide. It was this episode that 
gave me the central idea for my first novel, '* For Satan's 
Sake/' in which I introduced the girl, and which is 
written very much round my own life. 

I am only too thankful now that she did not accept me, 
for I do not know how I should have kept her, and that, 
apparently, as far as she was concern^, was the only 
thing that mattered. 

I fought a desperate battle with myself for some time, 
and in the end came to the grim resolution to go on 
liviKg. It was when I was recovering from this state of 
excessive mental dejection that I came in contact with an 
old acquaintance, a public schoolman, at whose sugges* 
tion I decided to try schoolmastering, and consequently 
obtained a post at Daventry Grammar School. 

But I must now return to the principal subject of this 
narrative, namely, ghosts. 

During the year I was in York Road I thoroughly 
explored the East End» and in the coffee houses and 
restaurants of Poplar, Deptford, Tilbury and White- 
chapel I heard many first-hand accounts of hauntings. 
Though it is not generally known, the East End of 
London is far more haunted than the West. On one of 
my noctmnal rambles, I made the acquaintance of a 
Russian Jew, who had an extraordinary mania for 
spiders, which he kept in specially designal boxes with 
glass lids. On their half -holidays he used to set his 
chfldren to work collecting flies and other insects, and the 
whole family used to revel in watching the spiders gorge 
themselves on their victims. You could see he was 
innately cruel by the hard twinkling of his little black 
eyes, and the spasmodic twitching of his flat, greasy, 
white fingers, but he was something of a scholar and he 
had a devout dread of ghosts. ^^ There is a haunted 
house close to here,*' he said to me one evening ; " if you 
* like to come with me I will introduce you to the owner. 



112 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 



He is a Chinaman, called King Ho, or some such ouc- 
landish name, and he keeps an opium den/* 

King Ho did not require much of aji introduction, for, 
as soon as we entered, he fixed his little slit-like eyes on 
me and said : 

" Well, what do you want ? A smoke ? " 

•• No," I said. " IVe come to hear about your ghosts* 
Fm interested in them." 

** There are plenty of them here," he murmured; 
^* the house is full of them. Sit down I " 

I obeyed, and the Russian Jew went back to his 
spiders and left me alone with the Chinaman. 

It was a dirty, sordid, ill-ventilated place, reeking with 
a dozen different odours, and suggestive of vermin ad 
libitum^ and diseases of an Oriental origin and unspeak- 
able nature. A curtain was drawn across one end of the 
room, and noticing that my eyes wandered off in that 
direction. King Ho got up and pulled aside the drapery. 
Two wooden berths, one above the other, were discovered ; 
the top one was empty, and the lower occupied by a 
corpse-like Chinaman, who was lying on his side, facing 
us, with absolutely no expression in his eyes or 
mouth. He might have been dead the best part of a 
week. 

*^ He's away in the rice fields of his native home," King 
Ho said, ^' talking to his wife and playing with his 
chOdren. He goes there every night at this time " — and 
he glanced at the big, round, wooden clock hanging on 
the wall. 

You mean he is dreaming," I said. 
No, I don*t," King Ho retorted. " I mean he*s there 
— his spirit, his intelligence is there. That thing you are 
looking at is only his material body. He, and I, and 
others we know, don't set much value on that, we can 
get out of it so easily. It*s the immaterial self we 
esteem." 

Then, seeing I was interested, he resumed his chair. 



C4 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 113 

and stretching out his long, thin, yellow hand, he 
touched me on the arm. 

" Listen," he said, " we. Chinamen, who come from the 
fields and mountains, and grow up in close touch with 
Nature, can concentrate. From our infancy upwards we 
think deeply. We think of the sky, the stars, the sun, the 
moon, the mighty Hoang Ho River and the vast range of 
the Pelings. We think of them in a sense quite different 
from the sense in which you Londoners would think of 
them. You would regard them as so many objects only 
— sky and land-marks. We think of them as spirits that 
can act as magnets to our spirits — as intelligences akin to 
ourselves, that can, when once we become thoroughly ac- 
quainted with them, draw us to them. The Pelings live 
just as much as you and I live — ^you might pull down 
their body, that great, elevated frame you style the 
mountains, just as you might overturn that bench ; but 
the real, the spiritual Pelings would still remain. When 
once you grasp the idea that all Nature lives — ^that every- 
thing, even to the chairs and tables, have immaterial 
representatives, then you will begin to understand the 
principle of the concentration we practise. You must see 
the Pelings, the Hoang-Ho, the rice fields, not as they 
would appear to the man in the street here, here in 
London, Piccadilly, but as w^, who live near them and 
know them, see them — ^as figures that can see and hear, 
figures with intelligence, expression — ^intense expression 
in their eyes. When you see them like that, you will get 
to love them, and, when you love them, you will un- 
consciously concentrate on them, as you do on aU 
things that you love. Your love will not be in vain, it 
will be reciprocated, and the love that reciprocates yours 
will, as a magnet, draw you — ^you — ^your inmiaterial 
ego — ^your true self — ^towsuxls it. Now you begin to 
understand, I can tell by your face. The Chinaman — 
the Chinaman of the plains and hills — ^like myself, 
thinks — he knows Nature, and when he leaves China 



114 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

and comes over here, he concentrates until he hears the 
voice of that Nature calling to him; and when he 
hjsars it, his spirit is gently freed from his material 
body, and borne silently and instantaneously to his 
home. 

^^ Now, he can think best when he can get some at least 
of the conditions of his uative surroundings — and the 
most important of them is silence. Not silence such as 
you may understand it, but the silence of the conscious, 
inanimate hills, and rivers, and plains — and the only way 
to procure it is through opium — ^the opium I supply. 
Hence he comes here, takes it, and lies over yonder, and 
thinks, till he hears the call and his spirit is released.'* 

*' But the ghosts,** I interrupted, ^^ the ghosts you 
spoke about.'* 

^* Wait,'* he said. ^^ Listen 1 Sometimes men have 
come here who have lost the love of the spirit of the 
mountain and river. They have lost it because they 
have liked too much this London of yours, and have ini- 
bibed too deeply of that detestable inamorality, which so 
weakens the spkit that it cannot, even if it heard the call, 
get away from the flesh. I tell those men that my 
opium will do them no good, but they take it ; they take 
it, and dream as Englishmen would dream — ^with their 
spirits chained to their material bodies. When these 
depraved Chinamen awake and realise that they can 
never, never again, be drawn by the mighty, majestic 
love of the Spirit of the Mountain and River, and that 
they can never again revisit the home of their childhood, 
so bitter is their disappointment that they kill them- 
selves — not always here, but anywhere — ^in their lodg- 
ings, in the river, or in the docks. Their spirits then 
invariably come here, where, undoubtedly, they renew 
their vain efforts to get back to China — ^to the mighty, 
majestic Spirit of the Mountain and River, whose love 
they have lost. Look in that top berth and tell me what 
you see there ? ** 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 115 



" It*s empty," I said. 

^^ liook again," he replied. 

I did so, but still there was nothing there, only just 
t)ie bare, dingy panelling. 

" WeU," he asked, " what now ? " 

" Nothing," I said ; " absolutely nothing," 

'^ Go up to it and put one hand inside," he remarked. 

I did so, and sprang back with a loud cry. I had 
touched a face I 

'^ Yes," he said, as I stepped out into the semi-darkness 
of the causeway, ^^ it frightens some people, but it never 
frightens me, because I know that the only consolation 
possible for these unhappy spirits is to lie next to, or to 
come in contact with, the bodies of those whose spirits 
are walking and talking with their fond ones in distant 
Chma." 

Whilst I was at York Road I became acquainted with 
an Irish doctor, whom I will call Flynn. He ran a surgery 
not far from King Ho's house. Flynn belonged to a 
famous secret society, whose fundamental object was to 
carry on a doctrine of surreptitious hatred to England and 
all things English. Though I had no sympathy with such 
a^society — for I have always held the opinion that, how- 
ever badly England behaved to Ireland in the past, the 
majority of the English people of to-day are only too 
anxious to act fairly to her, and therefore it is better to let 
bygones be bygones — ^I found Flynn a very original and 
entertaining character. All his patients were either Irish 
or of foreign extraction, and whenever any English person 
came to the surgery, he flatly refused to attend them. 

One evening, when I was sitting chatting with him in 
front of a blazing peat fire — ^Flynn would never bum 
English coal — ^two Swedish engineers came into the 
surgery, and Flynn, who, for some peculiar reason, was 
particularly partial to the Swedes, asked them to join us 
at supper. The meal certainly was not in the approved 
style of the West End, nor, perhaps, would it have 



1 16 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

appealed to the nouveau riche ; for there was no snowy 
tablecloth, no serviettes, no champagne, no liqueurs ; it 
consisted of boiled beef, suet dumplings, potatoes — 
boiled in their skins, of course — and plenty, yes, plenty, 
of stout and whiskey ; and it was very welcome to the 
four hungry, healthy men, who did ample justice to it. 
After we had finished, and pipes were produced, I 
brought up the subject of ghosts — never very far from 
my mind — and one of the Swedes laughed. 

" Ghosts,** he said, " there are no such things. Neither 
ghosts nor fairies. I believe in nothing. There is no 
God, no devil, no heaven, no hell. When we die, we 
die — ^there is no future life whatever." 

" Let's have a stance," Flynn said, " and see if we 
can't convince him. I have the skeleton of a murderer 
in the room overhead. I will fetch it down, and it shall 
sit round the table with us." 

" All right ! " the sceptical Swede, whose name was 
Nielssen, said. " Fetch it down ; fetch twenty skeletons 
you like, the more the merrier. Nothing will convince me. 

Flynn ran upstairs, and presently reappeared with a 
tall skeleton in his arms. The table was cleared, and we 
all sat round it with our hands spread out after the usual 
manner of table turners, the skeleton being placed 
between the two Swedes, each of whom had hold of one of 
its hands. Flynn then turned down the lights, and we 
started asking the table questions, many of which, I fear, 
were of a very ribald and frivolous nature. Every now 
and then it gave a big tilt, and Nielssen shouted, " That's 
for me ! It's my mother-in-law — she's found out I've 
been making love to my landlady's daughter." Once 
there was a rap, and for the moment I was taken in. 
Then the other Swede, Heilbom, cried out, " It's only 
Nielssen. He did it with his foot ; he's incorrigible ! " 
This sort of thing went on for some time, Flynn and 
Nielssen constantly playing some prank, and Heilbom 
and myself not always too serious. 



(4 
(4 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 117 

Suddenly the atmosphere of the room seemed to under- 
go a change, and, as if by common consent, we were all 
sUent. Then Nielssen uttered a sharp cry of pain. 

*' Strike a light quickly,'* he cried ; " my hand is 
being hurt frightfully j " 

We did so, and Nielssen gave vent to an expression of 
relief. 

How did it happen ? " Heilbom asked. 
I don't know," Nielssen said faintly. He was 
evidently much shaken, and spoke with the emotion of a 
man who has undergone some violent shock. " I was 
only holding the skeleton the same as you, when I sud- 
denly felt its fingers close like a vice on mine. It was a 
grip of iron. See, my hand is crushed almost out of 
shape 1 " He held it out, and we all bent over it 
curiously. Compared with the other hand, it looked 
singularly white and limp, and when Flynn touched 
it, Nielssen very perceptibly winced. 

Flynn gave him some brandy, and after a little while 
he seemed himself again ; but he would not continue 
the s6ance. " There's something very odd about the 
skeleton," he said. *' I don't believe in spirits, as you 
know, but there must be something closely akin to one 
attached to this thing," and he gave it a vicious kick 
with his foot. 

A week later, when I called at Flynn's house, he told 
me that Nielssen was in bed. He had fallen downstairs 
and badly bruised his spine, besides breaking a leg. 
" He'll get over it all right," Flynn said, " but it will be 
some time before he can do anything. His account of the 
accident is most remarkable ; in fact, he declares that it 
wasn't an accident, that he was deliberately thrown. He 
swears that he distinctly saw a skeleton hand suddenly 
catch hold of him round the ankle, and that the next 
moment he felt himself whirling through the air. He is 
most emphatic in his declaration that he will never again 
scoff at ghosts or play with the invisible. And now, 






9» 



118 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

Fljmn added, *^ the wretched thing has begun to plague 
me. I can't get a decent night's sleep. As soon as I 
begin to dose I am visited by the most disturbing 
dreams. I invariably hear knocking at the door» and 
when I open it» something rushes in and strangles me. 
But the worst of it is, I hear the knocking when I'm 
awake, too. Sometimes it begins directly I get into bed, 
before my head has touched the pillow. Knock, knock, 
knock t — ^the hard, sharp knock of bony knuckles on 
door, walls and furniture. I am not actually frightened, 
but I don't like it. What do you make of it ? " 

** If it's not the skeleton, the spirit of some depraved 
human," I replied, " it's some other equally low and 
vicious earth-bound, one of the class that visit stances 
and attach themselves to the unlucky sitter. You might 
try getting rid of the skeleton — ^have it cremated and 
see what effect that has." 

Flynn took my advice ; the skeleton was reduced trt 
ashes, and the ashes buried many miles away from 
liimehouse Causeway, after which, the disturbances, as 
far as Flynn was concerned, at any rate, entirely ceased. 
Whether Nielssen was victimised again I cannot say. He 
rejoined his ship as soon as he had recovered, and since 
then he has completely passed out of my existence. 

There was a house I used occasionally to go to in 
Whitechapel, a rendezvous of itinerant free lance writers 
like myself, where, although I never actually saw any 
ghostly phenomena, I always had very extraordinary 
impressions. The moment I crossed the threshold, I 
fancied I was in a big funeral procession following a 
hearse. It was a dull, winter's day, I thought ; there were 
inches of slush on the ground, and the cold was intense. 
i could not see the faces of the people walking beside me, 
but I instinctively knew that they wore an expression of 
extreme relief, and that some even of them should-be 
mourners laughed. We tramped on till we came to a 
steep hill, then there was a loud report, and at once 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 119 

eyerything became chaotic. After this my mind gradu* 
ally cleared and the impressions abruptly ceased. There 
was no variation in these impressions, they always began 
and ended in precisely the same way ; moreover, I 
invariably received them whenever I entered the house. 
I mentioned my experience one day to an habitu^ of the 
place, and he quite casually informed me that several 
men who went there had had simflar experiences, and he 
thought the landlord, if approached tactfully, might offer 
$;ome sort of explanation. Acting upon this suggestion, I 
spoke to the landlord, and learned from him that half a 
century or more ago the house was owned by a wealthy 
tradesman, who, it was generally supposed, had made his 
money by sweating his employ^. When he died, all the 
hands had to attend his funeral, but far from looking sad» 
as they followed the coffin, they had exhibited every 
manifestation of joy. Just as the procession had reached 
the summit of a steep hill, a half-witted man fired a gun 
from a cottage window, and the horses drawing the 
hearse, taking fright, dashed down the incline and into a 
wail at the foot of it. Strange to say, no one was injured, 
but the coffin was thrown out and broken to pieces. The 
event made a great impression upon the minds of all who 
witnessed it, and the landlord informed me that I was 
by no means the only person who, upon entering the 
house, had received a vivid mental picture of the 
scene. 

I am often asked if I am a consistent medium. No, I 
am not. It is only at times I see ghosts, only at times I 
receive vivid impressions, and I do not believe that any 
person, however mediumistic, can depend upon his or her 
psychic faculty for consistency. I have been to several 
public stances, where professional mediums have had the 
audacity to say they see spirits standing beside practic- 
ally everyone in the assembly. They rattle off the 
description of an alleged spirit, as if it were a part in a 
well-rehearsed play-«id play it undoubtedly is to any- 



120 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

one who pauses to reflect. Genuine phantasms do not 
come to order quite so readily. 

In olden times, when people were really psychic, those 
versed in the art from their childhood upwards could only 
raise a ghost with great difficulty, and often, only by 
resorting to spells, many of which were of a very subtle 
and complex nature. And when, in the end, they did 
succeed, such manifestations invariably had f^ very 
alarming effect on the medium as well as the spectator. 
How is it, then, that so many of the professional mediums 
of to-day can not only see visitants from the other world, 
whenever they like, all around them, but can view these 
ghostly visitants without being in the least disconcerted, 
without — ^as the saying is — ^turning a hair ? Have 
they really stronger nerves than had Saul, and a closer, 
far closer intimacy with the Unknown than had the 
Witch of Endor, or can it be that the Spirit World has 
so participated in our age of quickness — our rapid forms 
of locomotion — ^that a medium has only to raise his or 
her eyebrows and a host of spirits at once whiz into the 
room ? I do not think so. I believe that such mediums 
— the mediums whose psychic vision is apparently 
inexhaustible, and can be turned on and off to order — 
are either unmitigated humbugs or hysterical dupes, 
who mistake the baldest impressions for actual spiritual 
phenomena. 

The unmitigated humbug has only to describe the 
alleged presence with a little elasticity, and the descrip- 
tion will surely fit — albeit somewhat loosely — one or 
another of our departed friends. Who amongst us does 
not know someone on the other side passably good- 
looking, rather tall, of medium colouring, and somewhat 
stout ? And if we plead that we do not, it is of no conse- 
quence — ^the medium glibly asserts that the spirit he or 
she describes has got behind our chair by mistake, and is 
really searching for someone else. But apart from this 
obvious fraud, can we believe that any one of those whom 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 121 

we have loved and lost would so degrade themselves and 
us as to appear at a public s6ance before a company of 
strangers. Surely we wotdd rather not see them at all, 
than see them in such circumstances. At any rate, we 
would rather — ^much rather — ^possess our souls in 
patience, until our departed loved ones can appear to us 
in private — ^as they sometimes can — ^without the inter- 
vention of any medium whatsoever. 

With regard to automatic or spirit writing, there is, I 
believe, just as much fraud practised. The mere fact that 
Sir somebody or other has a touching belief in one or two 
of these automatic scribes is quite enough for most 
people, and, consequently, they never dream of question- 
ing the integrity of any medium who professes to convey 
to them niessages from the dead. It is sufficient that the 
man with the title, the great man of science, believes. 
But they forget, often wilfully forget, that the cleverest 
man is often the most simple ; that » great judge has not 
unfrequently had his pockets picked ; and that eminence 
in one direction by no means denotes ability in another. 

Snobbishness is responsible for much. The big man is 
credulous, and because he is credulous the little man is 
credtdous too. Hence, consistency in the spirit world, in 
clairvoyance, in automatic writing, is, for the moment, 
almost universally accepted, and direct communication 
with the spirit world erroneously looked upon as an 
every-day occurrence. It will be otherwise when the 
man in the street wakes up and discovers the occult for 
himself. Experience will, I think, teach him, as it has 
taught me, that although ghosts may on very rare 
occasions come to order — and when they do, their coming 
is, I believe, quite as surprising to the medium as it is to 
the audience — ^by far the greater number of superphysical 
phenomena appear spontaneously ; and it is through 
such spontaneous appearances only that we can hope to 
make any progress in our communication with the other 
world. 



CHAPTER IX 

KIOHT RAMBLIKOS ON WIMBLEDON COMMON AND 

HOUNSLOW HEATH 

Iv there are any places in London that should be more 
haunted than others, assuredly those places are the 
parios and conunons. When I was living on the south 
side of the river, I spent many nights tramping about 
Wimbledon, Clapham, Wandsworth, Tooting and 
Streatham Commons. Since then I have lived at Black- 
heath, Hampstead, Hounslow and Dulwich, so that 1 
may say I know pretty nearly every inch of these places. 
I can see myself now standing on Wimbledon Conmion 
close to a pool, in the dead of night. No one about, and 
the reflection of the moon staring at me from the 
unrufHed surface of the water. I am trying to get 
impressions of any event that may have taken place 
there. I got none. Suddenly a hand falls on my 
shoulder ; I swing round, and peering into my face is 
the white, haggard face of a tramp. 

" You ain't going to drown yourself, are you ? " he 
said. 

" Why ? *' I asked, anticipating a severe rebuke from 
this withered and worn scarecrow of humanity. 

" Why,** he said, " because don*t do it here I I can 
show you a much better spot, where the water is deep, 
and where, when once you get in, you can*t very easily 
get out.** 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 123 

" But how will that benefit you ? " I enquired, won- 
dering why he was so eager. 

** You can let me have your elothes, can't you ? ** he 
explained ; " you won't want to take them with you into 
the next world. From what I hears about it, spdrrits 
don't need neither coats nor trousers, and the few 
shillings I shall get for them will do, me a bit of good, 
and won't hurt you." 

'* But I wasn't contemplating suicide," I remarked. 
" I'm not tired of life yet." 

" Ain't you," he said, in extremely disappointed tones* 
** Then why are you out here at this time of night ? ** 

" If it comes to that," I observed, *' why are you T '* 

** I ain't got nowhere els^ to go," he said ; ** and there 
are no police out here to dli^turb anyone." 

** Nor ghosts ? " I remarks^. 

** Ghosts ! " he chuckled. *' I'm not afraid of ghosts. 
I shall soon be one myself, I expect ; but there is one 
spot here I don't go near after dark." 

" Why ? " 

** Why," he said. " Come along with me, and maybe 
you'll guess." 

Had he been anything like my size I should not have 
gone, for his appearance was very far from assuring, but, 
as he was a small man, I felt comparatively safe. We 
walked side by side over the grass, crossed a gleaming, 
white path, and steering in a slightly northerly direction 
— ^I coidd tell that much by the stars — abruptly halted in 
front of a shallow pit, on the other side of which was a 
big bush. 

" It's there," he said, pointing at the pit. " I've tried 
to sleep there twice, and each time I've been woken up 
by hearing something heavy fall close to my head. It 
seems to come from the bush. It's the bush that skeers 
me," he added, *' and though I don't mind passing it 
in the day-time, nothing on earth will persuade me to 
look behind it after dark." 



124 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

" Not even sixpence," I said, fingering that coin in my 
-waistcoat pocket. 

" Go on," he said, " you haven't sixpence, otherwise 
you'd not be here. You're joking. If anyone really did 
offer me sixpence now to do it, well, I don't say but what 
I mightn't try." 

He spoke so hungrily and looked so famished that I 
decided to part with it, though sixpence to me just then 
had a particularly real value. I showed it him. ^' Look 
behind that tree," I said, " and I'll give it you." 

He set off at once. " No," I called out, " that won't 
do ; you must go through the pit." He proceeded to 
obey, and was in the middle of the hollow, when I dis- 
tinctly heard something very heavy strike the ground 
apparently close to him. I ran round the bush, just in 
time to see what I thought was a black shadow shoot 
across the ground and disappear in a neighbouring cluster 
of trees. When I returned, the tramp was still in the pit/ 
but I could see nothing there to account for the noise. 

" WeU," he said. " Did you hear it ? " 

** I heard something," I replied, " and there's your 
sixpence." 

I often went to Wimbledon Common afterwards, but 
never again saw the tramp, nor found the hollow. 

My Blackheath and Greenwich Park experiences, or at 
least most of them, are narrated fully in my '^ Haunted 
Houses of London," so that I can only refer briefly to 
them here. 

From the impressions I got, when walking on the 
Common at Blackheath, I shall always believe that the 
fiuperphysical influences there are particularly demoralis- 
ing. It always seemed to me that Blackheath — ^by the 
way a curiously appropriate name — ^might be the rendez- 
vous of the very worst type of earth-bound phantasms of 
the dead, and of the most vicious neutrarians. 

After leaving London and entering on my scholastic 
career, I was first of all a master at Daventry, then tutor 



>.« 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 125 

in an Irish family at Aldershot, and then, in succession, a 
master in preparatory schools at Wandsworth, Hereford 
and Blackheath. Of these various posts, I liked that at 
Blackheath the least, partly because the headmaster 
there was the most unmitigated snob, and my pupils 
hopelessly spoilt, and partly because I had such a 
detestation of the heath after dark. 

My only consolation in those days was cricket and 
writing. Every evening, after my work with the boys 
was done, I i*epaired to a room over a library in Blade- 
heath village, and it was there that I completed my first 
novel, " For Satan's Sake." 

The book deals with the soul of a suicide, and was 
based, as I have already stated, on my experiences in 
America and York Road, Lambeth. I tried it with 
various publishers, but without success, and it was not 
untU six years later, when I was Uving in a smaU fishing 
town in Cornwall, that I eventually got it taken. It so 
happened that a well-known novelist came to see me one 
day, and when I told him that I had attempted a book, 
he said he would like to see it. I fished it out of the box, 
where it had lain undisturbed for years, and he went off 
with it, subsequently showing it to a reader of a publish- 
ing firm — ^also a well-known novelist — ^who was staying 
in the town at the time, and who was so impressed with 
it, that he advised his firm to accept it. It did not even 
then come out for over a year, and the anxiety of awaiting 
my d^but as an author can better be imagined than 
described. The success I prayed for was not showered 
upon me, but the book was well received on the whole^ 
and paved the way for other works to follow. 

And now, let me hie back to London and its commons. 
Though Hampstead has, in all probability, its share of 
phantasms, my impressions there have been of a more 
agreeable nature than at Blackheath. I spent the greater 
part of several consecutive nights one summer sitting on 
a bench in a very rustic glade on the heath, waiting for 



laS EXPERIENCES \S A GHOST HUNTER 

anything that might happen. Once or twice between one 
and two something seemed to be making a violent effort 
to fnaterialise, and I fully expected to see a figure sud- 
denly appear before me. My impressions were that it 
would be the figure of a woman» and that she would be 
carrying a white bundle in her arms. I felt that she was 
in great trouble and wanted to ask me for advice. I 
associated her worries with a big house that used to stand 
somewhere near the summit of Hampstead Hill. I felt all 
this very acutely, and I used to repeat aloud my willing- 
ness to do anything I could to assist her. 

Strange to say, a few years later, I met a lady who told 
me that she had had a curious experience in the same 
spot. She was walking through it rather late one autumn 
evening, accompanied by her dog, a big black retriever. 
When shecame to the seat where I used to sit, the dog 
started barking and showed signs of great terror. Some- 
what alarmed, she was about to hurry on, when a voice 
close to her said, ^^ It's only me, Winifred ; don't be 
frightened. The boat I sailed in to America was wrecked, 
and only the child was saved." 

The lady looked round, but there was no one in sight. 
On reaching home, she mentioned the incident to her 
mother, who exclaimed in astonishment, ^^ WeU, thmis 
odd ! I was sitting on a seat, I should think in that very 
spot, about forty years ago — ^we were living in D ^ 
House, on Haverstock Hill, at the time — ^when a lett^ 
was brought me announcing the loss of a big sailing 
vessel in the Atlantic, on which my maid, Winnie, as we 
used to call her, had sailed with her husband to America. 
Only a very few of the passengers and crew survived, and 
Winnie and her husband were both drowned. But I 
never knew they had a child.'' 

Hounslow Heath should teem with ghosts, for it once 
swarmed with foot-pads, who, after committing every 
cmiceivable act of violence on and around the heath, 
usually ended their career there on gibbets. I once had 



BXPERIENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 127 

rooms near the Bath Road, and spent nuiny ni^^ts 
rambling about the Heath in quest of ghostly adventure. 
One evening I kept fancying I was followed everywhere 
by a tall, muffled figure, and ^hen, in alarm, I hastened 
over the grass on to the roadway, I heard a low, cynical 
laugh. All the way home the steps seemed to pursue me, 
and when I got into bed and prepared to blow out the 
light, I saw the curtains by the window rustle and swell 
out, as if someone was behind them. It was a long time 
before I ventured to blow out the li^^t, and, when I slept, 
I dreamed a dark, hooded figure was bending over mf • 

On another occasion, as I perambulated the heath, 
where the trees were thickly clustered and the under* 
growth had become the densest tangle, I caught a glimpse 
of two men playing dice. I heard their laughter and the 
rattling of the box, as they sh«ok it in the air and threw 
out the dice. Then suddenly their gaiety was turned to 
wrath — ^there were oaths and blows, cries and groans, and 
all became silent, save for the soughing and moaning of 
the wind through the lofty tree-tops. But as I came 
away from the heath, there was again that cynical laugh, 
and again footsteps seemed to follow me home, and again 
the curtain by the window of my room shook and swelled. 

I did tiot go to the heath one night ; I lay awake in bed 
instead, and about the hour I had usually returned I 
heard steps, long, swinging steps coming down the little 
side road towards the house. My memory at once went 
back to that night in Dublin, and I strained my ears to 
catch the accompanying sound. I had not long to wait — 
it soon came, the same old familiar click, dick, click I In 
an agony of fear, lest the steps should stop at the house 
and there should be a repetition of the terrible knocking 
at the door, I lighted a candle and sat up. Nearer and 
nearer they came, and then, when I felt certain they 
would stop, to my infinite relief they went on. On past 
the house, the edioes ringing out loud and clear in the 
keen, frosty air, imtH they reached the Bath Road. 



i-^ 



128 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

I fully expected some misfortune would happen to me 
after this occurrence, as the last time I had heard the 
steps had been at the time of my failure to pass the 
medical for the R.I.C.9 and shortly before my disastrous 
trip to America. Yet nothing of a specially untoward 
nature happened. Apparently, the steps on this occasion 
merely heralded another change in my vocation, for I 
shortly afterwards became imbued with the desire to be 
an actor, and commenced what was destined to be a 
lively, though very brief theatrical career, as a pupil in 
the Henry Neville Studio, Oxford Street. 

Before, however, passing on to subsequent events, I 
must relate one other — ^the only other — ghostly happen- 
ing I experienced at Hounslow. In a remote corner of 
the heath there was one spot that had a peculiar fascina- 
tion for me, and, whenever I returned from it, I dreamed 
the same dream — ^that a beautiful girl in an old-world 
costume, with fair hair, large, blue eyes and daintily- 
moulded lips, approached my bed and leaned over me. 
She had the most appealing expression in her face, and 
seemed to be anxious to make me her confidant. I was 
always about to address her, when some extraordinary 
metamorphosis took place, and I awoke, palpitating 
with terror. 

The dream greatly impressed me, and I tried my best 
to discover a reason for it. I did eventually, but not until 
the year I published -' Some Haunted Houses of England 
and Wales," when I got into correspondence with a very 
old lady, whom I will call Miss Carmichael. Miss Car- 
michael lived at Ealing, close to the Parish Church, and 
wrote to me to the effect that, if I liked to call on her, she 
could tell me a curious tale about an old house that used 
to stand on the outskirts of Hounslow Heath. Of course 
I accepted this invitation. 

I found Miss Carmichael, when I called, lying on 
a sofa, crippled with rheumatism, but otherwise in 
the full possession of all her senses, and wonderfully 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 129 

vivacious, despite the fact that she was well over 
ninety. 

** The house I want to tell you about/* she said, " was 
called * The Gables.' It was a large, old-fashioned manor 
house with very extensive grounds, and at the beginning 
of the last century it belonged to my aged relative. Miss 
Denning. She never lived in it herself, but she kept it in 
excellent repair, and at her death, in or about 1820, her 
nephew inherited an apparently valuable property. Now, 
Tom Denning had a great friend, Dick Mayhew, and it 
was from Dick Mayhew, who was also a great friend of 
mine, that I heard the most detailed account of the 
hauntings. I will try and tell you the story just as my 
friend told it to me." * Wi^r. ■ 

" I was sitting in my stuffy oflBice in Jermyn Street one 
spring morning, when, who should suddenly walk in but 
Tom Denning, whom I had not seen for some time. 
* Why, Dick,' he said, * how fagged and run down you 
look. A spell in the country is what you need, it would do 
you all the good in the world. Supposing you come down 
to my place at Hounslow, and have a blow on the Heath. 
I keep a couple of horses, and you can ride all day if you 
like.' 1. 

What surprises you spring on one," I ejaculated. 

I didn't know you were living so near London — ^and at 
Hounslow, too ! Aren't you afraid of highwaymen. I 
hear they still visit the place occasionally. How long 
have you been there ? " 

"I haven't been there yet," Dick replied with a 
laugh ; " at least, not to stay. The property has just 
been left me by my aunt. It's a queer old house, just the 
kind of place a romantic beggar like you would like, and 
if any house ought to be haunted, it ought. They say a 
murder was once committed there by an ancestress of 
mine, a girl whose face was as beautiful as she herself 

^ I have feptoduced the gist of tlub narrative in my own 
language. 






laO BXPERIENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

was evily and that her spirit still roams the house and 
grounds.'' 

*^ I should certainly like to see her/' I said, *^ and so, 
I am sure, would Greg." (Greg was Dick's bloodhound). 

" Well, I'll give you both an opportunity," Tom 
laughed. ** Take Gr^ with you, and a Mend too, if you 
like, for I may not be able to join you at once." 

*^ I accepted, and in due course arrived at ^ The 
€(ablesf,' accompanied by my cousin Ralph, who was then 
a Lieutenant in the Bufiis, and Greg. 

*^ The grounds surrounding * The Gables,' which stood 
near the edge of the heath, were encompassed by a very 
high, red-brick wall, and consisted of a broad, well-kept 
lawn in front, a small spinney on one side, an extensive 
shrubbery on the other, and big kitchen gardens at the 
back. The house itself, seventeenth century and covered 
with ivy from tip to toe, was picturesque in the extreme. 
There were no servants, only the caretakers, a middle- 
aged man and his wife, who occupied rooms in the east 
wing. The west wing was reserved for us. 

*^ After dinner, in a hall so enormous that it made us 
feel positively lilliputian, we wandered out into the 
garden. It was a glorious night, the sky one mass ol 
silver, scintillating stars, the air redolent with the odour 
of spring flowers. * By Jove,* Ralph remarked to me, as 
we strolled across the lawn, * By Jove I No one would 
think we were so close to that God-forsaken heath ; why, 
it was only a few years ago that a fellow in my regiment 
was set on there, and, after being robbed of all he had on 
him, half beaten to death with bludgeons. It's one of the 
worst cut-throat spots round London. Then he uttered 
an exclamation of surprise and jogged my elbow. 

^^ Coming towards us from the house was the figure of 
a young girl. She wore a white dress with a dark cloak 
flung loosely over her shoulders, and the moonlight play- 
ing over her face revealed a countenance of extraordinary 
delicaby and beauty. £ter eyes were large and childlike 
in their expression, her lips daintily modelled, her teeth 



BXI^ERTENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 131 

wonderfully white and even, her hair golden. Whether 
it was the effect of the moonlight on them or not, I cannot 
say, but her cheeks were absolutely devoid of colour, 
almost strikingly pale, whilst I fancied I detected in the 
slightly open mouth an expression of pain. I saw every 
detail most distinctly, even to the shape of her fingers, 
which were very pointed. She came on without appar- 
ently noticing us, and we watched her trip past us and 
disappear in the spinney. 

" * What a stunner I ' Ralph exclaimed. ** I don't 
know when Fve seen a prettier face I Sly fellow, 
Denning ! I wonder who she can be I ' He had hardly 
finished speaking when we heard the most awful scream, 
a shriek of terror and despair, such as sent all the blood 
in my body to my heart, and left the rest of me like ice. 

"*My God! What's happened to her?' Ralph 
gasped. ^ She's being murdered. Quick ! ' We dashed 
into the spinney, but despite the fact that we searched 
everywhere, no girl was to be found. 

^^ Returning to the house, we made enquiries of the 
caretakers, who were vehement in their denial of knowing 
the girl or of having heard her cries. Much puzzled, we 
then retired to our night quarters. The room that had 
been assigned to us, for we preferred to share one between 
us, was situated about midway down a long, narrow 
corridor, lighted at the further end by a casement 
window, across which sprays of ivy blew to and fro in 
the cool breeze. 

^^ For a long time we sat in front of the fire chatting, 
but at one o'clock Ralph got up, and exclaimed that it 
was high time we turned into bed. 

" * Hullo, look at Greg I ' he said, pointing to the dog, 
who was crouching on the floor in front of the door 
showing its teeth in a series of savage growls. * What's 
the matter with him ? ' 

" Before I had time to reply, we suddenly heard a 
regular, measured tap, tap, tap, as of high-heeled shoes, 
coming along the corridor towards our door. 



132 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 



4( ( 



That can't be either the caretaker or his wife/ 
Ralph whispered. ^ I wonder if it's the young lady I 
Perhaps she's going to pay us a surreptitious visit. I 
only wish she would — ^the little darling ! ' 

** Nearer and nearer came the steps, until they seemed 
to stop just outside our door. Greg's hair bristled, he 
gave a deep growl, and retreated half way across the 
room. Then there came a loud knock on the door, 
followed by the sound of a violent scuffle. Springing 
forward, Ralph threw the door wide open. There was 
nothing there, only the cold light of the moon, and the 
white, motionless faces of the Dennings' ancestors 
hanging on the walls. 

^* ' It's deuced odd,' Ralph said. * I swear I heard 
steps and a knock, and yet there's nothing to account for 
it. Could it have been rats ? * 

** * I don't think so,' I said ; * rats wouldn't have 
frightened Greg. Look at him now ; he has quite re- 
covered.' Greg had come to my side and was licking my 
hand and wagging his tail. 

^^ In the morning I asked the caretaker's wife if the 
place was haunted. 

" * Haimted,' she stammered. * No. Whatever made 
you think of such a thing, sir I There ain't no such 
things as ghosts. It's them howls you 'card.' 

** Seeing there was nothing to be got out of her, Ralph 
and I did not refer to the subject agaid", but spent our 
time reading in the library, and wandering about the 
heath. 

^^ In the evening we saimtered out into the garden and 
tried to coax Greg to come with us, but he resolutely 
refused, and so we had to leave him behind. Just about 
the same time as on the previous evening, and in identi- 
cally the same place, we again saw the girl. 

" * I'll speak to her, hanged if I don't,' Ralph muttered^ 
and taking off his hat, he stepped forward and accosted 
her. Without apparently perceiving us, she passed 
resolutely on, and, entering the spinney, was speedily 



«i 4 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 133 

lost to sight. Almost directly afterwards, the same 
awful, wailing scream rose shrill and high on the still 
night air. This time we did not rush after her, but, 
walking hurriedly back to the house, we sought the com- 
panionship of the bright and cheery fireside. 

^^ At one o'clock we were again seated in our bedroom, 
and the events of the preceding night were repeated in 
every detail. 

" On the morrow Tom joined us. When we told him 
of the ghost, he became intensely interested. 

•*^ * It must be my ancestress,' he said. * The girl who 
was supposed to have murdered somebody. I'll sit 
up with you two fellows to-night and we'll have the 
door open.* 

After dinner we all three went into the garden. . 
It's here we first caught sight of her,' Ralph ex- 
daimed, as we halted on the lawn, * here, and precisely at 
this hour. Yes — by Jove I — and there she b I ! ^ 

*^ I looked^ and there was the figure I knew so well, 
tripping daintily towards us, her yellow hair and silver 
shoe buckles gleaming furiously in the moonlight. 

" * She wears a hood,' Tom cried, * and it completely 
hides her face.' 

" * What 1 ' Ralph retorted ; * she has no hood, you 
must be dreaming.' 

*^ As before, the girl passed us and we lost sight of her 
amongst the trfees. The next moment, and we again 
heard her scream. Then we searched everywhere, but 
with no result. She was certainly not on the premises, 
and as there was no avenue of escape save by scaling a 
ten foot wall, we could only conclude she had melted into 
fine air, in other words — ^vanished. 

** * I'll get to the bottom of this mystery,' Tom growled 
between his teeth, * if I root up every tree in the garden.' 

" * What you've seen so far,' Ralph observed, * is only 
the prelude. There's more to come, and I'm not sure if 
Act II. is not the most exciting. What do you think, 
Dick?' 



134 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

*^ ^ Ask Greg/ I replied. * I believe he knows more 
about it than we do.' 

^^On arriving indoors, we all three retired to the 
bedroom we had agreed to share. The night was so 
exquisite that I sat by the open window. Directly 
beneath me was the gravel drive, which lay like a broad, 
white belt encircling the house, and beyond it, on the 
level sweep of lawn, danced the shadows from the larch 
and fir trees in the paddock ; the only sign of life came 
from the bats and night birds that wheeled and skimmed^ 
in silent flight in and out the bushes. There was very 
little breeze, sufficient only to make the ivy rustle and the 
window in the corridor outside give the faintest per- 
ceptible jar. I gazed at my companions. Ralph lay oi^ 
the sofa, sound asleep, a half -serious, half -amused look 
on his handsome features, while Tom sat in an armchair 
directly in front of the fire» his head buried in the palms 
of his han^s, as if wrapt in profound thought. A distant 
church clock boomed one. Greg growled, and Tom, at 
once springing up, flung the door widely back on its 
hinges. * There,* he said. * Come what may, we're 
ready for it.' As he concluded, there came a tapping. 

^^ Tap, tap, tap ; someone in high-heeled shoes was 
walking over the polished oak boards of the corridor in 
our direction. To me there was a world of stealth and 
cautiousness in the sounds, that suggested a host of 
conflicting motives. As the steps drew nearer, the door 
suddenly swung to with a loud crash, and before we had 
time to recover from our astonishment, someone rapped* 
With a shout of baffled rage, Tom leaped to his feet and 
tore at the handle. The massive door at once flew open* 
The corridor was empty — only moonbeams and pictures 
— nothing more. 

^^ The following day was wet, and we stayed indoors, 
all the morning and afternoon, reading. As it cleared up 
a little towards supper-time, Tom proposed going for a 
short walk. We slipped on our overcoats, and were 
crossing the big entrance hall to the front door, when 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 135 

Tom suddenly .exclaimed^ * Hang it I I've left my pipe 
upstairs. I say, wait a minute, you fellows, till I get it/ 
He started running, and then stopped short, giving vent 
to a loud exclamation. Ascending the broad staircase in 
front of us was a form, whose back view exactly resembled 
that of the golden-haired beauty we had seen in the 
garden. Where she had sprung from we could not say. 
We only knew she was there. 

** ' By Jove I I'll see her face this time,' Tom said. 
* I'U see it, even if I have to force her to turn round.* He 
ran after her, and, mounting the stairs two at a time, 
stretched out his hand to pluck at her sleeve. She 
turned, and her face was to us a blank. What Tom saw 
we never knew. Shouting, ^Take the danmed thing 
away from me I ' he stepped back and fell ; and wh^i we 
i^an forward, we found him l}ring at the foot of the stairs — 
dead." 

The property. Miss Carmichael informed me, passed to 
fk distant relative, who, after trying in vain to let it, 
pulled it down. The ghost, it was rumoured, was that of 
a very beautiful ancestress of the Dennings, who, after 
leading a life, evil even for those times, ^disappeared. 
What happened to her material body no one ever knew, 
but her spirit was supposed to haunt the house aud 
grounds in dual form. To the stranger, that is to say, 
to those outside her own family, she i^peared in all the 
radiant beauty of her eaii:hly body, but to the Dennings 
she seldom revealed her face. When she did, they beheld 
something too terrible for the mind to conceive — and live. 

" I have heard," Miss Carmichael added, " that the 
ghost has been seen quite recently haunting the site once 
occupied by the house and grounds, and also the borders 
of the heath." 

And as Miss Carmichael was very emphatic on this last 
point, I may not unreasonably conclude that the girl of 
my dreams was the actual ghost of /^ The Gables." 



CHAPTER X 

HY VIEWS ON A FUTURE UFE FOR THE ANIMAL AND 

VEGETABLE WORLDS 

I MENTIONED in One of my former works that I believe 
many of the figures we pass by in the streets are not men 
and women like ourselves, but phantasms — ^phantasms 
of the living, that is to say, spirit projections of people 
consciously or unconsciously thinking of being where we 
see them — ^phantasms of the dead, and impersonating 
neutrarians. 

Mingling with the crowds in the parks and gliding in 
and out the trees, I have often seen people with the 
t/^ f pallor of corpses ; I have followed them, and they have 
unaccountably vanished. I believe Hyde Park, par- 
ticularly the northern side, to be as full of ghosts as any 
spot in London, and I have heard many strange tales 
from the outcasts, the tattered and torn brigade, who 
have slept all night tmder its trees and bushes. The 
police are, I believe, expected to clear the Park before 
locking-up time, and Fve no doubt they try to do so, 
but they cannot possibly look into every nook and 
cranny in that vast expanse, and there are many in which 
one could easily hide and defy detection. I have tried 
the experiment once, and I am not anxious to try it 
again ; there is no place so terribly depressing, so 
strangely suggestive of suicide, and hauntings by the 
most grotesque type of neutrarians, as London's premier 
park by night. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 137 

Some twelve or fifteen years ago, in my nightly 
rambles there, I noticed that the seat beneath a certain 
tree, mid-way between the Marble Arch and Lancaster 
Gate, was rarely occupied, whereas all the other seats in 
that vicinity were invaded by couples. One evening, the 
weather being warm and sultry, I went and sat there. 
I dozed off, and eventuaUy feU into a deep sleep. I 
dreamed that an old man and a young girl stood under 
the tree, whispering, and that as I watched them they 
raised their eyes, and looked in a horribly guilty manner, 
not at me, but at the space next me, which I perceived, 
for the first time, was occupied by a tiny child. Moving 
stealthily forward and holding in their hands an out- 
spread doth, they crept up behind the child, the doth 
descended, and all three vanished. Then something 
made me gaze up into the branches of the tree, and I saw 
a large, light, colourless, heavily-lidded eye peering down 
at me with an expression of the utmost malevolence. It 
was altogether so baneful, so symbolic of cruelty, malice, 
and hate that I could only stare back at it in mute 
astonishment. The whole shape of the tree then seemed 
to alter, and to become like an enormous dark hand, 
which, swaying violently to and fro, suddenly dived down 
and closed over me. I awoke at once, but was so afraid 
of seeing the eye, that for some minutes I kept my own 
eyes tightly shut. 'When I opened them, I saw, bending 
over me, a very white face, and to my intense relief a 
voice, unmistakably human, croaked, "No wonder 
you're scared, sitting here at this time of night by your- 
self." 

The speaker was merely one of the many hundreds of 
tramps for whom the Park was reception and bedroom 
combined. His hat was little more than a rim, and his 
trousers cried shame on the ladies I saw every day with 
their skirts plastered all over with buttons. His cheeks 



138 EXPERISNCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

were hollow^ his eyes preteruaturally . bright, and his 
breath full of hunger. Still, he was ^ve, and anything 
alive just then was very welcome. 

** I never sleep here," he said ; " none of us do." 

" Why ? " I lisked. 

" Because it's haunted," he said. " You may laugh — 
so did I years ago, afore I took to this sort of thing. But 
sleeping out-of-doors all night has taught me more than 
any politicians, bishops, or schoolmasters know ; or any 
of those fine ladies that swell about in their carriages 
know; I've seen sights that would make an bangel 
afraid ; I've seen ghosts of all sorts. They're not all lU&e 
IIS, neither. Some of them ain't human at all, they're 
devils. You may laugh when you read about them in 
them library books, but it's no laughing matter when you 
see them, as I've seen them, all alone and cold, in some 
wayside ditch. This tree, I tell yer, is 'aunted — and it's a 
devil that 'aunts it. Ask my mates, any of them that 
you'll find sleeping in the parks. There's many of them 
that 'ave experienced it. They've seen something hiding 
in the branches, and when they've seen it, they've felt 
they must either kill themselves or someone else. There's 
a devil in the tree that tempts one to do all kind of 
wicked things, and if you take my advice, young man, 
you'll sit somewhere else." 

^^ I think I will," I said ; ^^ and here's something for 
your warning." I gave him threepence, the only coins I 
had on me just then, and, overwhelming me with thanks, 
he shu£9ed away. 

Since that night I have often thought that the poor — 
the very poor — ^know far more of the other world or 
worlds than do the rich, and that they know more — far 
more — on other points than the rich. The statesman 
talks of the people and the people's needs, but what does 
he know of the people and their needs ? He rarely, if 
ever, goes amongst them. Except in electioneering 
times, I doubt if any Member of Parliament ever goes 
into the more squalid of otur London districts. I have 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 139 

seen one Member of the House of Lords eating whelks in 
a tavern in the Limehouse Causeway, but he is an excep- 
tion. Journalists go there — ^but the leisured folk — never* 

It bores them ; and yet how much they might learn, 
how much not only of urgent human needs, but of coming 
storms. They might learn that the East End brews 
whilst the West End sleeps, and that as surely as the 
long-talked-of Carman war cloud — ^that war cloud they 
affected to ridicule — ^has at last burst, so undoubtedly 
will the war cloud of revolution ; revolution hatched by 
malcontents of all nationalities in East End doss houses 
and crowded coffee taverns. 

This is no empty prophecy. The cinders of the volcano 
have been hot for some time — ^they are now burning hot 
— and the hour is fast approaching when they will arise 
mightily in a red conflagration. Are we prepared for it t 
It takes a very sound constitution to face a revolution 
with perfect confidence*. Are we sound ? Can any 
constitution be sound when the rich daily grow richer, 
and the poor, poorer. Where Art — all that cries out for 
beauty, real beauty, beauty as it is seen and worshipped 
by souls uninspir^ by lucre — ^is starved to death and 
crushed, limp and lifeless, by the thumbscrews of a vain, 
shallow, mercenary mushroom aristocracy on the one 
hand, and an equally selfish, crude, ignorant, money- 
grabbing working class on the other. But let me say 
again it is the East End, the ever watchful, never 
slumbering East End, that is the thermometer of future 
events. And why ? Because it is here that the lean, 
hungry men of letters, who seldom, if ever, get their 
thoughts transferred to print, are even now threshing 
out the nation's destiny. Threshing it out, consolidating 
it, whilst the monied men and women, the present all-^ 
powerful nouveau riche — ^the beer, whiskey and tobacco, 
peers and peeresses — the lords of the Stock Exchange, 
Banks and Divorce Courts — ^those who have made their 
money out of the sins and follies of the world, or by 
sweating and usury, are lolling in their soft, upholstered 



140 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

chairs, smoking luxurious cigars and quaffing liqueurs. 

The war has done much : it has aroused patriotism, 
it has given rise to self-sacrifice, but it has not touched 
the root of the gangrene, it has not lessened our worship 
of the dollar. Individualism, as we know it to-day, must 
collapse, and some better and purer system — ^a system 
that does not encourage selfishness — ^must prevail. The 
people are dying for change — ^for some great change that 
will give them fair play. This is the people's need — ^the 
need that you may hear voiced throughout the length 
and breadth of the squalid East End. ^^ We want a 
Government that remembers its primary duties,'* they 
cry. *^ A Grovernment that is father to its children, that 
loves, fosters and protects them. We have never had 
one yet, but the hour may not be far distant when we 
shall demand one.*' This is what the people of leisure 
might learn, if they visited the haunts I visit ; and they 
might learn more beside. They might learn of another 
world, a spirit world, such as is never alluded to in the 
pulpits, with which people in the poorest parts — ^people 
who are too poor to pay for beds — ^are forced to live in 
contact. Nights in the parks and commons have taught 
these vagrants more, a thousand times more, than they 
ever learned in Simday or County Council Schools. 
They have seen sights — spirits in the form of man and of 
beast, of both and of neither — ^that have revealed to 
them how closely the other world borders on this, and to 
what close supervision the inhabitants of the other 
world subject some of us. They have learned, I say, 
what no priest or preacher would, or could, teach them, 
namely, that the hell of spirit-land lies on this eieirth, 
and that the worst of all punishments is that of the poor 
phantasms of the dead, that glides in and out the trees 
noctumally, never meeting those it knew and loved, but 
ever encountering the most terrifying of the spirits that 
are hostile to man. 

Our vagrants know, too, the power of these neu- 
trarians, they know they can adopt any shape, and 



• . « • • 



• • • • . 

• « * 



• • • • • 

« « » • 



• « 



'■ What gives me the worst fright is a tree . 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 141 

tempt and goad man on to the conimittal of any crime, 
however heinous. They have, moreover, acquired a 
fiui;her knowledge — a knowledge denied and scoffed at 
by the ministry of all Christian denominations — ^namely 
that all forms of animal and vegetable life, all forms of 
flora and fauna, pass into the superphysical, and live 
again. ^ ^ 

I myself first learned of a tree ghost from an old 
tramp, who came and sat by my side on a seat on 
Clapham Common. 

" Do I ever see anything strange here at night ? " he 
repeated in answer to my question. " Yes, I do, at 
times, but what gives me the worst fright is a tree that I 
sometimes see close to the spot where that man was 
murdered some ten or twelve years ago. I never saw it 
before the murder, but a few nights afterwards, as I was 
passing the spot, I saw a peculiar glimmer of white, and, 
on getting a bit closer, I foimd, to my astonishment, 
that it was a tall, slender white thing with branches just 
like a tree, only it was not behaving like a tree. Although 
there was not a breath of wind, it kept lurching with a 
strange, creaking noise, and I felt it was watching me, 
watching me furtively, just as if it had eyes, and was 
bent on doing me all the harm it possibly could. I was 
so scared, I turned tail, and never ceased running till I 
had reached home." 

" Home I '• I said. 

" Yes, a clump of bushes near the ditch, where I 
always turn in of nights. It ain't much of a home, to be 
sure, but it's the only one I've got, and I can generally 
count on lying there undisturbed till the morning." 

I gave him a few coppers, and he blessed me as if I 
had given him a fortune. 

On Tooting Common I met a Northumberland miner, 
who had come to London for the first time on a holiday, 
and, having had his pocket picked, was obliged to spend 
the night out-of-doors. " Ghosts," he said, when I 
asked him if he had any experiences with the super* 



.^^ 



142 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

natural whilst engaged in his underground work. 
" Ghosts 1 Yes, but of a nature you don't read about in 
books. Me and my mates, when working in a drift at 
night, have heard the blowing of the wind and 9 mighty 
rustling of leaves, and have found ourselves surrounded 
on all sides by numerous trees and ferns that have 
suddenly risen from the ground and formed a regular 
forest. They have not resembled any trees you see now- 
a-days, but what you might fancy existed many thou- 
sandis of years ago. There has been no colour in them, 
only a uniform whiteness, and they have shone like 
phosphorous. We have heard, too, all the noises, such 
as go on daily in forests above-groimd — ^the humming 
and buzzing of insects, and the chirping of birds ; and 
shafts and galleries have echoed and re-echoed with the 
sounds, till you would have thought that those away 
above us must have heard them, too." 

I do not think the miner romanced, for what he said 
was only a corroboration of what other miners have 
often told me. 

Of coiu*se, it is not every mine that is haunted in this 
way, or every miner that sees such sights, for the 
Unknown confines its manifestations to the few, but I 
firmly believe such phenomena do happen, because as I 
state in my ** Bjrways of Ghostland " (W. Rider & Sons), 
I have seen several tree ghosts myself. If one form of 
life possesses a spirit, why should we not assume that 
other forms of life possess a spirit, too ? Why should 
man have the monopoly of an immaterial self, and alone 
of all creation continue his identity after physical 
dissolution ? On moral grounds ? No 1 For man, 
generally speaking, is in no sense superior iporally to the 
so-called beasts around him. He is often the reverse. 
Oddly enough, we have so long accustomed ourselves to 
using the term inunorality exclusively in reference to our 
illegal relations with the other sex, that we have come to 
regard these illegal relations as the only immorality 
existing. It is a curious error. Immorality comprises 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 143 

■ 

thefty and theft not only comprehends depriving people 
of their material goods, it comprehends slander and 
gossip — i.e.f depriving people of their character ; sweat- 
ing — f.e., depriving people of the just rewards of their 
mental and manual labour ; and bread-snatching,— 4.e., 
depriving people of their only means of existence; 
beside many other acts of an equally odious nature. 
The average drawing-room is invariably the rendezvous 
of immoral people ; nine out of every ten of the ladies 
one meets there are robbers — they steal, almost at very 
breath, someone's good name and reputation, a far 
worse crime than the purloining of a loai, for which act 
of desperation a poor man would be sent to prison, and 
a hungry dog beaten. In the drawing-room, too, one 
meets the girl with a few hundred a year, who announces 
her intention of taking some post — ^maybe on the stage, 
or on the staff of some paper, or in a business house, 
^^ just to make a little money." A little money at the 
expense of someone else's life 1 For that is what the 
want of occupation to the person with no private income 
literally means. We see none of this mean immorality 
in the animal world. Dogs steal bones from one another, 
it is true, but they do not lie, and eheat, and intrigue ; 
tior do they, when they have a sufficiency themselves, 
snatch away the little that constitutes another person's 
all. 

Animals are accused of being cruel — of barbarously 
murdering one another, as in the cases of the cat and 
mouse, the lion and deer, etc. But they rarely kill, 
saving when they are hungry, and for food man kills, too, 
in a fashion and with a method which is truly disgusting. 
By studiously looking after the daily wants of certain 
animals, such as cows and sheep, and by caring for4:hem 
when they are ill, man leads them to suppose he is their 
friend, and they learn to trust him. Vain faith. He is 
kind to them only to suit his own ends. He out-Judas's 
Judas, and after nonchalantly accepting their most 
lavish tributes of affection, he takes Ihem unawares and 



144 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

kills them, either with a poleaxe, or some other weapon 
entailing an equally painful and lingering death. Do any 
animals behave quite so basely ? Besides, there is no 
cruelty in the animal world — not even the most excruciat- 
ing suction of the octopus, nor the sharp, agonising bite 
of the flesh-eating parrot of New Zealand — ^that can for 
one moment compare with the coolly planned and 
leisurely executed horrors of the Spanish Inquisition ; 
and the tiger, at its worst, is but a tyro in savagery 
compared with the creature God is said to have made in 
His own image. 

From vices turn to virtues, and pause for a moment in 
reflection on the many lovable qualities of the dog. 
Where in man do we find such affection, forgiveness, 
general amiability, constancy and patience ; and in the 
case of the horse, such a willingness to labour without 
any thought of recompense. It makes me positively ill, 
when I hear hopelessly immoral men and women — 
gossips, slanderers, breadsnatchers, usurers, sweaters — 
speak condescendingly of animals — of dogs and horsesthat 
are on an infinitely higher moral plane than ever they 
have been, or ever will be. But moral superiority is not 
the only superiority that man fallaciously assumes. He 
lays claim to an intellectual superiority, which is equaUy 
fallacious, equally a myth. No one who has ever studied 
animal and insect life can but have been impressed with 
the marvels of ingenuity and skill displayed therein. 
The web of the common garden spider and the nest of 
the wren, for example, are every whit as wonderful in 
their way as the architectural works of Inigo Jones or 
Christopher Wren. On the grounds of a moral and 
mental inferiority, therefore, the argument of a future 
life for the human species only, fails. Another argument,, 
an argument advanced by the most bigotted of the 
religious denominationalists, is ^^that man only has a 
conscience, and that conscience which he alone possesses 
is the only passport to another world. Without conscience 
there can be no soul, and without soul there can be no 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 145 

hope of a continuation of life after death." This, of 
course, is merely assumption, as is nearly all the teaching 
of the Churches. Conscience, like religion, depends to a 
very large extent on climate. A man bom in the centre 
of Africa might not think it wrong to do things that 
would appear appalling to a Plymouth Brother, and 
vice versa. There is at present no fixed and universal 
standard of right and wrong, any more than there is a 
fixed and universal standard of beauty — ^for as each eye 
forms its own idea of feminine loveliness, so each heart 
forms its own conception of honotir and dishonour, 
virtue and vice. We know that this is the case as far as 
mankind is concerned, and we have nothing beyond 
assumption to assure us that it is not so throughout the 
animal and insect world. If the animals have no concep- 
tion of a moral standard^ how is it that they do not 
destroy one another ? That the instinct to injure people 
is innate in us is readily proved by the joy nearly all of 
us take in saying disparaging things of our neighbours. 
We go so far, and we would undoubtedly go the whole 
hog and kill those we hate, if something more, perhaps, 
than the mere fear of hanging did not hold us back. 
That restraining something is unquestionably the fear of 
the Future, and it is that fear which I am inclined to 
think is the origin of what we term our consciences. 
Were we sure there was no future existence, there would 
be no moral restraint (it would only be the prospect 
of legal punishment that would deter us from injuring 
other people to our heart's content), we should have no 
consciences ; and if this is applicable to mankind, why is 
it not applicable to other forms of animal life ? 

Is it not feasible to suppose that it is this same fear of 
the future that acts as a preventive to animals killing 
one another indiscriminately ? That they do at times 
rob and kill for other motives than to satisfy their 
hunger is indisputable, but these exceptional cases prove 
what I am trying to maintain — ^that there is some 
restraining influence that keeps the vast majority highly 



146 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

moral ; and I see no feasible arguments for not supposing 
this influence to be a conscience begat by a deep-rooted 
fear of what may await them on physiccd dissolution. 

And if this applies to the miunmals, why not to the 
whole animal, insect, and vegetable worlds — to every- 
thing that has life, for Science has yet to proye that 
where there is life, there is not also intelligence. 

The superior morality of animals to man, then, may be 
considered as due to their more powerful consciences, 
and to their stronger fear of the possibility of the super- 
physical. And why should they have a much stronger 
fear ? Because, unquestionably, they have a more 
intimate knowledge of the Unknown than has man. No 
one who has had much to do with dogs and horses can 
doubt this. Who that has ridden through woods and 
jungles, or lonely country roads at night, has not seen 
their horse suddenly stop and evince every evidence of 
fear. Though the human eye has seen nothing to 
account for it, the horse obviously has seen something, 
and it has only been by dint of the utmost coaxing and 
petting that the sagacious animal has been persuaded 
to continue its course. It is the same with dogs. Over 
and over again I have had dogs with me in houses 
alleged to be haunted, and they have suddenly manifested 
symptoms of the greatest, the most uncontrollable fear. 
I have endeavoured to pacify them, to urge them to 
follow me, but it has been in vain ; though obedient and 
fearless as a rule, they have suddenly become the most 
disobedient and incorrigible of cowards. Why ? Because 
I am certain they have seen and heard things which, for 
some unaccountable reason, have been held back from 
me. 

If knowledge, then, of another life is any plea for the 
bestowal of an unperishable spirit, animals should live 
again even more surely than man. And so also should 
the vegetable world, for I have myself seen trees violently 
agitated, as if with paroxysms of the most sublime 
terror, before the advent of superphysical phenomena. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 147 

And stronger than any of these arguments is that of 
the ghosts themselves. There are innumerable and well* 
authenticated cases of hauntings by the phantasms of 
dogs, horses, birds, insects, and trees, and it is, perhaps, 
chiefly through these hauntings that we can disprove 
the theory that man possesses a monopoly of the imma- 
terial planes ; a theory which, were it not for his in- 
sufferable egotism and conceit, he would never have 
advanced. 



CHAPTER XI 

A HAUNTING IN REGENT'S PARK, AND MY FURTHER 
VIEWS WITH REGARD TO SPIRITUALISM 

Before concluding my experiences in the parks and 
commons of London, I will cite one other case, a case 
which serves to illustrate the theme I have just been 
discussing. 

I was visiting the Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park, 
one day in the summer of 1898, and was so struck with 
the look of yearning in the eyes of one of the lions, the 
desperate look of yearning to have just five mUlutes' 
gambol on the sunny lawn outside, five minutes in which 
to stretch its poor, cramped-up limbs, and sniff, perhaps 
for the first time, the fhie fresh air of freedom, that I 
could not refrain from mentioning what was passing in 
my mind to a white-haired old man and a plainly dressed 
young woman, who were standing near. 

" Yes, sir," the old man said. " It does seem hard on 
these huge animals to be confined within the limits of 
such a very small space and to have to pace up and down 
these little boxes, tantalised by the sight of other 
creatures enjoying the privileges that are denied to them. 
It is worse treatment than any meted out to criminals ; 
in fact, the biggest ruffian in jail does not suffer in any- 
thing like the same degree as these animals. They have 
one thing to be thankful for, however — ^life cannot last 









EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 149 

for ever. Death will be their kindest friend. It is the 
rich man's purgatory, but it is Paradise for all these 
creatiu'es as well as for the poor man." 

" You believe in another world, then ? " I remarked. 

" Believe in another world ? ** he answered sharply, 
" why, of course I do. I have seen far too much of it to 
do otherwise, haven't I, Minnie ? " 

" Yes, Grandad," the girl said simply. 

*' We both have, Minnie and I," the old man went on. 
Spirits ? " I enquired. 

Yes, spirits. Ghosts, if you like," he said. 
Tell me. I'm not one of the scoffers," I pleaded. 

He looked at me searchingly, and then said : '^ I used 
to be a keeper here many years ago. I was devoted to » 
the animals, and when they died, I invariably saw their 
ghosts. So did some of the other keepers. JIow don't 
run away with the idea that the Gardens are haunted, 
sir. As far as I know, they are not. It was only to us 
who had so much to do with them when they were alive 
that the spirits of these animals appeared. I remember 
one instance in particu ar, about twelve years ago, just 
before I left the Zoo. A young lion came here from 
EasW^rica. It wouldn't let any of the keepers go near 
it excepting myself, and it was generally regarded as 
having a very uncertain temper. But I never found it so. 
I knew that the reason of its restlessness was its hatred 
of confinement. I knew it hated its cage, and I used tb 
do all I could to comfort it. There was a soil; of mutual 
understanding between us. When it saw me looking a 
bit anxious and worried, for my wife was often ill, it used 
to come and rub its great head against me, as if to cheer 
me up, and when I saw it looking more than usually 
dejected, I used to stop and talk to it for a longer time 
than I talked to any one of the other animals. Well, one 
day it fell ill, caught a chill, so we thought, and evinced 
a strong dislike to its food. I discussed its case with the 
other keepers, and they agreed there was nothing to be 
farmed about, as it was yoimg and to all appearances 



-•^ 



150 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

healthy. We all thought it would be well again in a few 
days. I. had gone home as usual one night, and was 
sitting in the kitchen reading the evening paper, when 
something came over me that I must go for a walk. I 
told Minnie, who was a little girl then, not more than 
nine or ten years of age, and she begged her mother to let 
her go with me. We started off with the intention of 
going to the Caledonian Road, as Minnie liked looking at 
the shops there, but we hadn't gone far before Minnie 
suddenly exclaimed, ^ Grandad, let's go to Regent's 
Park.' * Regent's Park,' I ejaculated ; ' whatever do 
you want to go there for at this time of night I ' 'I don't 
know,' she said, * but I feel I must.' * Well now,' I 
replied, * that's odd, because the very same feeling has 
come over me.' 

** We struck off down Crowndale Road — ^I was living 
in the neighbourhood of the St. Pancras Road then — 
and got to Gloucester Gate just about dusk. We had 
passed through, and were walking along the Broad Walk 
by the side of the Zoo, when Minnie suddenly caught 
hold of my arm, and said, * Look, Grandad 1 ' I followed 
the direction of her gaze, and there coming straight 
towards us from the Zoo walls was a lion. I can tell you 
it gave me a jump, as I naturally thought one of. the 
animals had escaped. It aimed straight for us, and upon 
its getting close to I recognised it at once — it was the 
young lion that had been taken ill. To my astonishment, 
however, there was nothing of the invalid about it now. 
The expression in its eyes was one of infinite happiness. 
It seemed to say, *" I have attained my ideal ; I am out in 
the open, in the sweet, fresh air, and the wide darkness of 
the fast approaching night.' It came right up to us, and 
I stretched out my hand to touch it, wondering what the 
passers-by would do when they saw it, and how on earth 
we should get it back into the gardens. It bitterly 
grieved me to think it would have to lose its freedom. I 
stretched out my hand, I say, to touch it, and to my 
surprise my fingers encountered nothing — ^the lion had 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 151 

vanished. I then realised what Minnie had known all 
along — ^that what we had seen was a ghost. A ghost, 
and yet it had appeared to me so absolutely real and 
life-like." 

" How did you know it was a ghost ? " I enquired of 
the young woman. 

" By the curious kind of light that seemed to emanate 
from all over its body," she replied. " I can only 
describe it as a kind of glow, something like that of a 
glow-worm. It was not a bit natural." 

" But you saw the figure distinctly ? " 

" Yes," she responded, " very distinctly, and I wasn't 
the least bit afraid." 

" Let me tell you the sequel, sir," the old man inter- 
rupted. " On my arrival at the Zoo in the morning, one 
of the men came running up to me. * It's dead ! ' he 
said. ' Dead ! ' I cried. ' Who's dead ? ' ' Why, that 
young lion of yours,' was the reply ; * it died at eight 
o'clock last night.' 

** And, sure enough, when I went into the lion-house, 
there was the animal Ijring stretched out at full length in 
its cage — dead. It had died at eight o'clock, which was 
the exact time we had seen it in the park." 



And now to pursue the thread of my own life, which 
must of necessity run through this volume. While I 
was teaching at Blackheath, I not only completed my 
fu^t novel, " For Satan's Sake," but studied for the 
stage at the Henry Neville Studio in Oxford Street. I 
shall never forget with what joy, when my duties with 
the spoilt and tiresome boys were over, I exchanged the 
terrible monotony of the schoolroom for the delightful 
luid interesting atmosphere of the Studio. Henry 
Neville did not teach there himself, but periodically 
came to watch and help us with his criticisms, which were 
always as kindly and instructive as they were utterly 
free from pomposity and egotism. Easy and natural 
• himself, he tried to infuse something of his spirit into us» 



^ .— . 



152 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

and with many of us, I believe, he succeeded ; for even 
those who did not believe that acting could be taught, 
were bound to admit that the pupils of Henry Neville 
were singularly free from the staginess almost always 
seen in amateurs, and sometimes in professionals as well. 

Henry Neville's brother, Fred Gartside, who gave me 
my first lesson in elocution — an abler or more persevering 
instructor could not have been found — left off teaching 
at the Studio soon after I joined. Mr. G. R. Foss took 
his place, and is, I believe, still at the head of it. 

I have always looked upon G. R. Foss as one of the 
greatest stage geniuses I have ever met. He is that 
rarest of all individuals — ^the born actor — ^the man who 
can perform almost any role with equal success. He is 
the idea] stage manager, a past master in the knowledge 
of all the technicalities adhering to the theatre, and the 
possessor of a nev^r-ceasing flow of wit and good humour. 

Among the pupils who were at the Studio with me, 
several have performed in London. I toured with George 
Desmond, who was quite recently playing in the West 
End, and I met Miss Yvonne Orchardson again, some 
two or more years ago, when she was also acting in a 
London theatre, whilst I constantly see that charming 
and talented old Nevillite, Miss Lilian North, who 
delights London audiences with her sweetly told stories 
and good recitations. Apart from many other personal 
attractions. Miss North has the most beautiful hands ; 
the fingers are long and tapering and the nails exquisitely 
shaped. It is the rarest combination of the psychic and 
dramatic hand, and such as I have very seldom seen 
saving among Orientals. 

If I have spoken somewhat extravagantly of the 
Neville Studio, its instructors and pupils, it is only what 
I genuinely feel, and I repeat, again, that the hours 
there were some of the most delightful I have ever 
experienced. When I had completed my course of 
instruction, I went on tour in " A Night Out." I then 
came back to London and remained nearly a year in 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 153 

Town, writing in the day-time and playing in one or 
other of the suburbs in the evening. I lived, for the 
most part, in St. James' Road, Brixton, where I wrote 
my second and third books, both novels, and entitled 
respectively " The Unknown Depths '* and '* Dinevah 
the Beautiful.'' 

" The Unknown Depths," founded to a large extent 
upon my own life, introduces the subject of Spiritualism, 
or, as it is now more often termed. Spiritism, and, whilst 
I was engaged on it, I attended many stances. 

I am often asked to express an opinion on Spiritualism. 

I am very averse from any attempt to invoke spirits, 
either through the aid of spells or mediums, by table- 
turning, or by automatic writing. As I have already 
said, I believe that genuine spirits do occasionally 
manifest themselves at stances, but that, when they 
do, the medium is quite as surprised at the manifestation 
as the sitters, and in no greater a degree, perhaps, 
responsible for it. I believe the spirit I have named 
neutrarian is the only type of spirit that takes advantage 
of a stance, that is to say, takes advantage of the peculiar 
magnetic atmosphere created at a stance. It adopts the 
form, or attributes, of some relative or friend of one of 
the sitters, and, thus disguised, manifests itself merely 
for the sake of deceiving and misleading over-credulous 
men and women. But unfortunately these spirits do not 
stop at mere mischief. Having once gained a footing, 
so to speak, they can attach themselves to certain 
people, and by tormenting them continually, drive them 
in the end to madness and suicide. 

In addition to the danger of attracting undesirable 
neutrarians at stances, there is the risk of being duped 
by mediums. I have met a good many professional 
mediums — so-called clairvoyants, aura tellers, psycho- 
metrists, materialising mediums, and the like, and none 
of them have convinced me that they can do all that they 
profess to do. Besides, even if they could, the mere 
suggestion that one's spirit friend or relative is tapping 



154 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

on a wall or blowing through a trumpet, presumably to 
sdtisty the curiosity of a number of strangers, and 
incidentally to fill the coffers of an illiterate man or 
woman, only fills one with disgust. If any departed 
friends of mine wish to visit me, I am sure they could do 
so without the assistance of a so-called medium and all 
their paltry paraphernalia. The usual argument in 
defence of these mediums is that some well-known 
scientific man believes in them. *' If Sir somebody or 
other says I am genuine," the clairvoyant exclaims, 
" then I am genuine, and youVe no right in the world to 
doubt me." 

The medium is wrong. I have every right. Scientists 
may be very shrewd, perhaps infallible in their own 
legitimate calling, but, outside it, their opinion need 
carry no more weight than mine, or yours, or anyone 
else's. 

It by no means follows that because a man is a 
Professor of Physics he is also a great student of charae-* 
ter. Poring over chemicals or figures all day is a very 
poor training for reading the human mind. An actor is a 
far more able exponent of psychology than any chemist 
or mathematician, and this being so, it is the actor who 
should play a prominent part in psychical research and 
not the scientist. If a veteran actor were to say to me, 
"Look here, I have watched that woman very carefully 
when she was supposed to go into a trance, and to speak 
in an entirely different voice from her own, and I am 
convinced she is merely acting," I should be inclined to 
believe him. In his wide experience of facial expression, 
posing, and assumed voices, it would be comparatively 
easy for him to tell whether the medium was shamming 
or not. A clever actress can disguise her voice effectually, 
and no one would know it. She can speak with a French 
accent one moment and broad cockney the next, and so 
natiirally that few people would know she was the same 
person. That is why, when I have listened to a clair- 
voyant, in an alleged trance, speaking in the voice of 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 155 

Tommy Jones or some other presumed obsessing spirit, 
I have been unmoved. There are a dozen actresses of 
my acquaintance who could easily do the same. But 
someone exclaims, '^ She actually spoke in Russian, a 
language she knows nothing about." ** How do you 
know she is unacquainted with Russian ? " is my answer ; 
no one can possibly tell that but herself. She has most 
likely acquired a smattering of it, simply for this purpose. 
What could be easier ? I have a smattering of a good 
many languages, but I could easily stimulate complete 
ignorance of any one or all of them ; I repeat, no one 
knows but ourselves how much we have seen, and read, 
and heard, where we have been, and what we have 
studied, and, if we are suflSciently clever, we can let the 
outside world know just as much as we want it to know 
and no more. Some mediums are said to act in one 
manner when they are obsessed, and in an entirely 
different manner when in their normal condition. What 
futile rubbish f Who knows when they are in their 
normal condition, or what their normal condition really 
is ? Most of us are complex. I myself have several 
distinct personalities — and I defy anyone to enumerate 
them — any one of which might be equally my true, 
my normal self. Moreover, I might go into a trance, 
speak with the voice of a Spaniard, and behave like 
a Red Indian, and those who saw me would think 
me obsessed. Yet they might easily be mistaken. I 
might have secretly acquired a smattering of Spanish, 
and one of my hobbies might be that of imitating, 
in private, the ways and habits of a Sioux or Crow 
Foot. 

I know a clergyman who attracts large congregations 
by reason of his eloquence and apparent piety, and who 
is believed in his parish to be most moral and sincere. I 
also know him to spend several evenings a week in an 
East End tavern, singing ribald songs and playing poker. 
Which is his true self, which his normal condition ? His 
congregation believe him to be one thing, his East End 



156 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

42ronies another, and he is apparently quite as much at 
home in the church as he is in the tavern. 

Then» apart from the question of personalities, I 
believe another evidence of trickery lies in the non- 
usefulness of any of the communications alleged to be 
made by the spirits. If professional mediums could 
receive bona fide communications from the other world, 
I am quite sure that they would acquire some knowledge 
of a practical nature, and that we should, in consequence, 
soon see them all multi-millionaires. That they are not 
all Vanderbilts and Rothschilds is, I think, a very strong 
argument that their alleged spirit friends have told them 
nothing. 

And that is what it all amoimts to — ^nothing. Auto- 
matic writing, table-turning, and trances have taught us 
absolutely nothing concerning either this or the other 
world, and the messages purporting to come from the 
spirits have hitherto, at all events, consisted of trivialities 
and commonplaces of such an unedif ying nature that we 
cannot dissociate them from factory girls and nurse- 
maids. 

Our friends on the other side, who have passed through 
the valley of the shadow of death, might reasonably be 
expected to know something that we do not ; and yet 
not even the smallest fragment of their knowledge has so 
far been transmitted to us through any of the channels 
resorted to by Spiritualists. Neither, as far as I know, 
have the police benefited by any information imparted 
to them by mediums or automatic writers. On the other 
hand, although the Unknown has refused to confide to 
those claiming to be its chosen few any messages that 
would right the wrong, bona fide phantasms of the dead 
have certainly been known to appear spontaneously, to 
other than professional mediums, with this intent. 

> • • • • • • 

I am acquainted with an old lady, who tells me that 
she often talks with Charles Dickens, Napoleon 
Bonaparte, Cardinal Newman and other eminents. I 



KXPERIENGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 157 

have enquired how, and she has reluctantly admitted 
that the spirits of these eminents come to her at a 
s&nce conducted by a professional medium, who, of 
course, is paid very liberally for her services. The 
medium, I gather, sits behind a screen, where she is 
supposed to wait, until she is obsessed. When every- 
thing is ready, she glides out, and in a voice purporting 
to be that of Napoleon, or of someone equally dis- 
tinguished, she converses with this foolish and conceited 
old lady. It seems incredible that anyone outside a 
lunatic asylum could believe that the spirits of such 
great men as Napoleon, Newman and Dickens should 
take the trouble to obsess a medium, in order to chat with 
some nonentity, who is neither extraordinarily clever nor 
particularly interesting. And yet there are dozens of 
people, apart from the old lady I have mentioned, who 
know so little of genius and eminence, and even ordinary 
talent, as to believe this incongruous happening to be 
possible. I, myself, have heard a Spiritualist, who lays 
down the laws respecting the Unknown, as if he were 
actually the Creator, declare that, whenever he lectures, 
the hall is full to overflowing with spirits. Amongst 
them, he says, are the shades of Charles Dickens — ^there 
must be at least a hundred shades of Dickens, for there is 
hardly a spiritualistic meeting or s6ance that I hear of 
at which Dickens is not alleged to be present — Sir Isaac 
Newton and Napoleon. (Soon, perhaps, there will be 
the Kaiser and the Crown Prince. I hope so.) 

Family stances are, of course, quite another matter. 
I have not the least doubt that when the friends and 
relatives of some departed person meet together, and, 
concentrating very earnestly on that dead one being 
present, create the right magnetic atmosphere, that 
sometimes a real spirit manifestation does take place, 
and the phantasm of the deceased, or what at any rate 
purports to be the phantasm of the deceased, does 
actually appear. 

The phenomenon may possibly be a neutrarian — ^for. 



158 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

of course, there is always that risk — or it may really be 
the soul, spirit, or whatever else we like to call it, of the 
dead person. And here let me urge again, the utter 
absurdity of attempting to dogmatise on the Unknown* 
At one time it was the parson, who upifolded to us, with 
all the sageness of one who had been there, the mysteries 
of the other world. He not only told us what we must 
do and not do in order to ascend to Heaven, but he went 
a step further : he told us what Heaven was like, and 
what actually was taking place there. The parson of 
to-day, however, does not seem quite so sure of his know- 
ledge on these points as he was formerly, and his state- 
ments have become far less assertive ; indeed, they have 
become somewhat tentative. It is the Occultist now who 
dictates. He talks with an air of absolute authority of 
Astral Planes, Elementaries, Elementals, vitalised shells, 
Karmas, and goodness knows what besides, and uses 
such a variety of high-f alutin' terms, that our brains at 
last become bewildered, and we begin to wonder with 
Goldsmith how it is possible that one small head can 
carry all he knows. But when we have boiled it all down, 
when we have analysed his dissertation, we find that it 
is, in the last resort, merely a repetition of all the old 
doctrines with which we have been familiar from our 
earliest youth. The only difference is that our Occultist, 
chiefly by discarding the old names of dogmas, and 
adopting a superfluity of new ones, has made of these 
same doctrines a hotch-'pdtch of such rare quality, that 
few — if indeed any — of us can digest it. 



CHAPTER Xn 

A HAUNTED laNE IN WALES 

While I was at Brixton, paying daily visits to various 
well-known theatrical agencies in search of work, I 
ran across the manager of a fit-up company, who 
wanted a num of about my age and build to play 
second lead in a melodrama. I closed with his offer, and 
for the next four weeks, which was as long as his funds 
held out, I paid three night visits to various towns in 
Wales, winding up at Llandudno, no better off financially 
than when I conunenced, and having to pay my own 
fare back to London. 

If , however, my excursion into Wales was unprofitable 
from the monetary standpoint, it was by no means 
lacking in other respects, for, apart from the experience 
I gained from playing four entirely different parts a 
night, with two electric changes, I came across several 
interesting cases of hauntings. 

One of my landladies, a kindly old soul to whom I had 
chatted about ghosts, introduced me to an old man, 
Clem Morgan, whom she said had had a curious experi- 
ence in one of the neighbouring mines. The incident had 
taken place some fifty years ago, shortly after a dreadful 
explosion, whereby many scores of the miners had been 
killed and injured. I will narrate the experience — 



160 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

merely altering the wording of it here and there — just as 
Clem Morgan narrated it to me : — 

*^ A thousand feet down, dose to the site of a great 
tragedy that had thrilled the whole country to the very 
core, my mate and I were at work. Pick, pick, pick ; 
shovel, shovel, shovel ; the sound of our instruments 
must have been heard hundreds of yards away. 

" * George,' I said suddenly, leaving off work, ' was 
it like this afore the accident ? * 

** * Like what ? ' (Jeorge gnmted. He was a middle- 
aged man with a black, stubby beard, and arms like the 
gnarled and knotted branches of an oak. * Like what ? ' 

** * Why, as lonely as this ? Were you working with 
just one other man, or were you with the rest of the 
gang ? ' 

** ' With one other,' George responded, * and just as 
soft as you. Why can't you let the matter drop ? I'm 
sick to death of hearing about it.' 

" • It's a marvel to me how you escaped,' I went on ; 
' whereabouts were you ? ' 

" * Just where we are now,' George growled, ' and 
that's all I'll tell you, so you'd best shut up ! ' 

" * And you went up them steps with all the hell of the 
explosion ringing around you ? ' I observed, advancing 
to the edge of the black shaft close to where we were 
working, and looking at the slender wooden ladder 
leading up to the dark vault above. * It's a wonder to 
me you didn't miss your footing in your hurry, and fall. 
I should have done.' 

" * I've no doubt you would,' George sneered, * but 
I'm no tenderfoot ; I was at this game when you were in 
your cradle, which you never ought to have left.' 

** * How many feet down is it ? ' I went on, peering 
below me, much fascinated. 

** * Fourteen fathoms. We don't reckon by feet here. 
Done with that way of doing things in the schoolroom.' 

" * So that you would be killed outright, if you fell ? * 

•♦•Try and see,' George jeered. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 161 

" * It*s my brother I was thinking of, not myself/ I 
observed. ^ Where was he exactly, when the explosion 
took place ? ' 

" ' How can I say, boy,' George replied, irritably. 
*' I don't know where half the folk are.' 

** ^ They told me he was in an adit leading into the 
main shaft.' 

" ' He may have been, for all I know — and for all I 
care,' Cleorge answered gru£9y. 

" * Do you suppose it was here he was working ? ' I 
said, after a moment or two's pause, during which I 
again went to the shaft and peered down. 

*^ ' This is not the only adit on the main,' George 
growled. * He wasn't here — ^leastways not. when I was.' 

'^ ^ I heard he was with a man he unintentionally 
injured, and who ever after bore him a grudge.' 

" * Oh, oh ! ' George exclaimed ; ' so you know as 
much as that, do you ? And what, pray, was this man 
like ? ' 

" ' I couldn't say,' I replied, * excepting that he was 
much older than Dick, and very ugly.' 

" * A description that would fit in with dozens 
down here. If he was working with your brother, and 
your brother was killed, the odds are he was killed 
too.' 

" * You think so ? ' 

* It seems reasonable enough, don't it ? ' George said. 

* He might have escaped like you did.' 
^ He might,' George laughed, ^ just in the same way 

as pigs might fly. Supposing you get on with your woi^ 
and let me do the same.' 

^* * I had a queer dream about that man,' I went on. 

" * Dreams ! Pooh ! Who believes in dreams ! ' 
George said. ' What was it ? ' 

^^ * Why, I dreamed he had something to do with Dick's 
death and with the accident.' 

" * You had better tell the Inspector,' George sneered. 
* And maybe he'U alter his verdict. You seem to have 

I. 



4C 
44 
44 









162 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

been very fond of this brother of yours. You've done 
nothing but carp about him all the morning/ 

" * I was/ I replied. * So were we all. He kept the 
home going for the last six years.' 

' Kept the home going I Why, where was you ? ' 
At College, studying for a teacher. I gave it up 
after his death.' 

" * A schoolmaster ! Well, I'm blowed. Then you 
didn't see much of Dick ? ' 
Only in the holidays.' 

And who told you about this fellow who was 
supposed to have had a spite against him ? ' 

" ' Mother.' 

" ' It was your mother, was it ? Only hearsay evidence 
after all. Well, they're both dead, anyhow — good and 
bad, and bad and good — all went together — ^in a moment, 
boy ! What do they call you ? ' 

" * Clem.' 

" * Well, Clem, get on with your shovelling for mercy's 
sake. I've had enough of talking to last me to the end 
of the week.' 

" I took up my spade, and for the next hour there were 
no other sounds but the steady, mechanical pick, pick, 
pick, and scrape, scrape, scrape. Every now and then 
George sprang aside, there was a crash, and a huge block 
of coal fell on the rocky floor, mid a blinding shower of 
dust. A fraction of a second later, and George would 
have been under it — ^his head a jelly. Yet the narrowness 
of his escape did not seem to affect him ; he treated it 
with the utmost indifference, and, wiping away the 
smuts from his eyes, took up his pick and resumed his 
hitting. I regarded him in silent wonder. When the 
dinner-hour arrived, I groped my way to one of the big 
galleries — ^the idea of eating alone with George did not 
appeal to me — ^and, an hour later, I set out on my way 
back. 

^^ A terrible sense of isolation hung over that part of 
the mine whither I bent my steps. It was so far away 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 163 

from the other adits — ^so tremendously deep down — so 
alarmingly dark, so sepulchrally silent. Up above, in 
the fields, woods, valleys, evei^ far away in the primitive 
parts of the world, one is never quite alone, for the voice 
of Nature makes itself heard in the birds and insects. 
One knows one is in the midst of life. But here 1 — ^here 
in the bowels of the earth, encased in the dead vegetation 
of a long-forgotten world, there is absolute, all paramount 
stillness — ^a thousand times stiller than the stillness of a 
closed sepulchre. As I pressed on, the crunching of my 
feet on the scattered fragments of coal awoke the echoes 
of the galleries, and I paused every now and then to 
listen in awe to the long reverberating echoes as they 
rolled round and round me. Once, I nearly slipped ; 
another foot, and I would have plunged into a sable 
labyrinth, the cold draught from which wound itself 
round me and choked the air in my lungs. 

'^ I drew back in horror, and clinging to the knobbly 
surface of the black wall by my side, pressed frantically 
forward. God, supposing I should ever lose my way 
down here — ^be left behind when all the men went home 
— ^what would become of me ? The perspiration rose on 
my forehead at the bare idea of it. Presently, to my 
relief, the sound of picking fell on my ears, and an abrupt 
turn of the passage brought me within sight of George, 
who had already recommenced work. I hastened to his 
side, and, picking up my shovel, began to make a neat 
stack of the rapidly accumulating chunks. 

'* * Gteorge,* I said, after an emphatic silence, * why 
didn't you tell me it was you who was working along 
with Dick ? ' 

" * So you've been asking questions, have you ? * 
George growled, without, however, showing the slightest 
inclination to leave off working. ' Who told you ? * 

" * Jim and Harry Peters.' 

" ' Well, and what of it ? ' 

" * But why didn't you say so, when I asked 
you?' 






164 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

^' ' What odds if I had, it wouldn't have done you any 
good.' 

* Did you have a quarrel with him ? ' 

* Did the boys tell you I had ? Because if so, it's no 
use my saying anything.' 

" * But what do you say ? ' 

^^ * No 1 Dick and me never had no quarrel.' 

" ' Is that true ? ' 

" * Gospel.' 

*^ After this there was another silence unbroken save 
by the monotonous handling of the implements. Then I 
suddenly uttered an ejaculation and pointed at my cap. 
It was lying on the groimd, some few feet from where we 
were working, close beneath a projecting block of coal, 
and it was moving — amoving as if it were being violently 
agitated by something inside it. 

" ' What is it ? ' I demanded. 

" ' What is what ? * George growled, resting for a 
moment on the handle of his pick. 

" ' Why, that 1 * I said, pointing to his cap. * What 
makes it move like that ? ' 

The wind, of course,' George said. 
There's not enough draught for that. See 1 ' I 
placed a piece of paper on the ground within an inch or 
two of the cap, and it remained perfectly still. * Some- 
thing must be underneath it.' I picked the cap up, 
there was nothing there. ^ What do you think of it 
now ? • I asked. 

** George made no reply. He turned round, so 
that I could not see his face, and plied his pick 
vigorously. After a few minutes I stopped work 
again. 

" * George,' I cried, * what's the matter with your 
coat ? Look ! It's doing just as your cap did.' 

" George threw down his pick with an oath. 

** * What do you want to keep worrying me for ? ' he 
said. ' What's wrong now ? ' 

" * Why, your coat 1 Look 1 it's moving — rising up 






EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 165 

and down as if the wind were blowing it — and there's 
not an atom of draught.' 

" * It's your fancy,' George said hoarsely. * The 
coat's not moving.' 

" * What,' I cried, ' do you mean to say you can't 
see it moving ? ' 

" ' No,' George replied. * It's not, I tell you.' And 
picking up his tool he set to work again, even more 
vigorously than before. 

^^ Some minutes later I again stopped. ^ Heavens I ' I 
exclaimed. ^ Look at my lamp ! It's burning blue I 
What makes it do that ? ' 

*'*' George paused — ^his pick shoulder high — and looked 

round. * Nonsense,' he said savagely. * You are ' 

Then he left off and his jaws dropped. *' It must be 
some chemical in it,' he stammered. ^ Let the damned 
thing be ; it'll soon right itself.' 

This is a strange place, George ! ' I said slowly. 
' Why strange ? ' (Jeorge snapped. 
Well, first of all there was my cap, then your coat, 
and now the lantern — all doing something queer. Have 
you ever known the likes of it before ? ' 

" * Often,' George muttered. * Scores of times. Funny 
things is always happening below ground ; you'll get 
used to them in time.' 

And yet you look a bit scared.' 

' Do I ?' George grunted. ' Well, I'm not. By , 

I'm not. You can't always judge by looks, you know.' 
And, raising his pick, he attacked the coal furiously. 

** The afternoon was now waning. Outside, away on 
the top, where the only roof was the heavens, the sun had 
sunk to the level of the pine-trees, from whose straight 
and gently-swaying bodies the grotesque shadows of the 
night were beginning to steal. It is a peculiarity of the 
mines that, however deep down they may be, they yet 
feel the influence of time, and the departure of the 
sunli^t from above creates an immediate increase in 
the gloom below. 



4i 4 
(& 
(& ft 



ftft 



166 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

*^ On this afternoon in particular I felt the change 
acutely. A darkness, that did not seem to be merely the 
darkness due to time, stole down the pit's mouth and 
permeated adits, shafts, galleries — everywhere and 
everything. 

" My light was still burning blue, but beyond it, down 
in the great, gaping chasm, not ten feet from him, and 
away along the narrow, winding passage separating me 
from the rest of the gang, all was black — a denser black 
than I had conceived possible. I was staring around, 
too fascinated to go on with my work, when something 
icy cold gripped my fingers, and, looking down, I saw 
a big, white hand l3ring on the top of mine. I gave 
a yell and dropped my shovel — ^whereupon the hand 
vanished. 

** * What's the matter now, curse you ! ' George said 
angrily. ' If you keep on hindering me like this, I'll tell 
the overseer. See if I don't.' 

" * The place is haunted,' I gasped. * A hand caught 
hold of mine just now.' 

" ' A hand I Rot. What next ? ' And George forced 
a laugh. 

" * I'm certain it was a hand,' I said, * and it had a 
ring on like my brother Dick's.' 

" * You've got Dick on the brain, which is only natural, 
seeing that you was fond of him, and he only just dead. 
In a few days' time you will get over it and laugh at 
your present fears. There's no hands here but yours and 
mine, lad ! ' 

*' * Aren't there ? ' I said quietly. * Then what is that 
just below yours on the pick.' 

*' George looked down. Instead of two hands — ^his 
own two hands — on the pick, there were three, and the 
third was white and luminous. With a shriek, George 
dropped the pick, and sprang away from it, as if it had 
been a serpent. 

*' * Do you believe me now ? ' I remarked. ' If that 
wasn't Dick's hand, I've never seen it. Besides, I could 



• • • • 

• - 



» • « • 



*• » • 



» » 



" My God 1 There's Dick ! He's just behind you " 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 167 

swear to his ring among a thousand. Have you noticed 
how dark it has been getting ? ' 

" * I've noticed nothing/ George muttered, picking up 
his tool. ^ It's all your talk that has done it — ^you've 
upset my nerves.' He raised his pick and began to work 
again, but his hands shook so much he struck his leg and 
dropped the implement with a cry of pain. 

^^ ^ It's nothing,' he growled, as I sprang to his side ; 
^ only the skin grazed. But I reckon I'll sit down a bit — 
I'm all of a tremble.' 

^^ He had moved nearer to the edge of the pit, and 
was about to sit down with his back towards it, when I 
cried, ' My God ! There's Dick ! He's just behind you. 
He's pointing at you, George. I see it all now I George, 
you devil — you murdered him I ' 

" George looked round — and there, bending over him, 
was a tall figure, with a strangely white face. He threw 
out his hands to keep the figure off, and, as he did so, he 
slipped, and fell, with one loud yell of terror, into the pit. 
I heard him strike the side of the great abyss once — ^then 
thud — ^that was all I 

^^ Sick at heart, I reeled back to the safety of the 
niche where we had been working, and, as I did so, my 
eyes fell on the lamp— the flame was now white and 
normal. 

**' A rescue party that went in search of George found 
him in a dying condition at the bottom of the shaft. The 
f aet that he was not killed outright was due to his having 
fallen in a foot or two of mud and water, which had 
somewhat broken the force of the concussion. He was 
fatally injured, but he lingered just long enough to 
confess that he, and he only, was to blame for the recent 
disaster. He had had a violent quarrel with Dick, whom 
he had hated, and, when Dick's back was turned, he had 
struck him over the head with his pick and killed him* 
Seized with horror, he then dragged Dick's body into 
the passage, and, in order to minimise the risk of dis- 
covery, had saturated it with parafiBn and set fire to it. 



168 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

He had had just time enough to feach the ladder leadmg 
up from the shaft, and climb up it, before the explosion 
had taken place/' 

• • • • • • 

The Welsh miners are at times magnanimous, and on 
this occasion they agreed to keep Creorge's crime a 
secret. To give publicity to the affair, they argued, 
would not give them back the relatives they had lost^ 
and would only do harm to the dead man's widow and 
family, who were left almost penniless. Thus the matter 
ended, and to the outside world the cause of the explosion 
remained, as before, a mystery. 

Of course, it may be said of this case that it has no 
great value from the evidental point of view, no one 
having witnessed the ghostly happening but Morgan 
and the man who was subsequently killed. This may be. 
At the same time much depends upon the character of a 
witness, and the evidence of one man, who is reliable, is 
surdy wcMrth more than the evidence of several men who 
are not reliable. 

Morgan told his story in a simple, straightforward 
manner, and I believed him. 



I 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE POOL IN WALES THAT LUBES PEOPLE TO DEATH 

I THINK there is very little doubt that two of the mediums 
through which the occult forces " get at " hmnanity are 
colour and locality. Red, for example, being the colour 
of blood, is made the medium for instilling thoughts of 
murder ; green, in a similar manner, is used to suggest 
suicide by drowning ; yellow suggests madness ; pink — 
vice of the most alluring and attractive nature ; and so 
on, until, by a careful study of human crimes in their 
relation to colour, one might tabulate a complete list. 

And so with localities. Certain spots attract certain 
types of spirits, and these, in turn, suggest certain 
thoiights, some beautiful and some the reverse. 

I was still in North Wales, when, a week or so before 
the expiration of the tour, I did a day's tramping on the 
hills, and, being caught in a heavy rain-storm, I had to 
take shelter under one of those low stone walls with 
which the whole country-side is intersected. The after- 
noon was drawing to a close, and the fading light made 
me a bit anxious as to how I should find my way back 
to my lodgings. As I was crouching there, praying to 
heaven that the storm would soon cease, so that I could 
continue my way, I suddenly heard a loud cry, as of 
someone in distress, and, on its being repeated, I scram- 
bled up and hastened in the direction of the sounds 



170 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

About a hundred yards further on there was a break in 
the wall, and I caught the glimmer of water. It was one 
of those roadside pools, not uncommon in Wales, and 
usually of great depth. As I drew nearer, I saw it was 
fringed on the far side by a cluster of tall pines, that 
creaked and groaned dismally as the strong west wind 
drove volumes of water through their bowed branches. 

I was noticing all this, when the form of a man in a 
mackintosh rose from the gorze close by my side, and, 
thrusting his head forward so that I could not see his 
face, walked with great swinging strides towards the 
pool. I thought this rather queer, but I thought it still 
queerer when the cries I had heard before broke out 
again with increased violence, unmistakably this time 
from the trees, and the man, breaking into a run, rushed 
up to the margin of the pool, where he abruptly dis- 
appeared. 

I was close behind him at the time, and am positive 
he did not enter the water. His whole body seemed to 
melt away as he stood on the bank. What became of 
him I could not say, I only know he vanished. The 
incident so unnerved me that it was only with a con- 
siderable effort of mind I went on. I threaded my way 
through the trees, and looked everywhere, but there 
was no one about and nothing whatever, as far as I 
could see, to account for the sounds. I looked at the 
water : it was ipky black, and there was something 
sinister about it, something that strangely suggested to 
me, that away down in its cold. stUl depths was life- 
some peculiar, venomous, repellant living thing that 
was watching me, and longing to entwine its arms round 
me, and drag me ruthlessly down. I was appalled. 
The apparent loneliness of the spot was frightful, and, 
as I tore myself away and renewed my journey home, I 
fancied I heard laughter — laughter in which all the trees 
seemed to join in chorus. On arriving at my rooms, I 
enquired about the pool, and my landlady informed me 
it bore a very evil reputation* Several people had been 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 171 

found drowned there, and no one would go near it after 
dark. This stimulated me to make further enquiries. I 
came across one or two men who testified to having 
heard cries there, and one old woman, who declared she 
had seen a curious figure, half human and half animal, 
vanish in the pine trees ; but I could get nothing in the 
way of details for some months, not until I had returned 
to London, when, quite by chance and under rather 
extraordinary circumstances, I was introduced to a man, 
long since dead, who many years before had had a 
somewhat harrowing experience there. The gist of what 
he narrated to me was as follows : — 

" Philip Delaney was a member of the London Stock 
Exchange, and at nine-thirty one August evening was 
sitting before the empty grate in his study, smoking* 
Though not naturally a pessimist, his thoughts were at 
that moment excessively gloomy ; business during the 
past few years had been steadily getting worse and 
worse, and it now seemed as if the day of general stagna- 
tion must be very near at hand. From an average of 
fifteen hundred a year his income had fallen to less than 
eight hundred. Consequently, he could not as usual take 
his holiday abroad ; he could only just afford to send 
his wife and children to Hastings, where he might 
possibly be able to join them for week-ends. As a 
fitting accompaniment to his thoughts, the weather was 
vile, cold and wet — eternally wet. He could hear the 
raindrops beating against the glass, and faUing on the 
window-sill with an incessant, wearying and worrying 
patter. He was too depressed to read, it was too early 
to sleep, he could only sit and think, everlastingly 
think. Indeed, he was deeply engaged in thought — 
thought in which two, and two and a half percentages 
were paramount — ^when, hearing someone cough, he 
turned sharply round. No one was there. 

*^ This was odd. He could have sworn the isound 
came from just behind him. With his eyes focussed 00 
the door, he listened. The cough was repeated, foot- 



172 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

steps accompanied it, and from out of the wall stepped 
the figure of a man. Philip Delaney gasped in astonish- 
ment. He recognised the figure at once. It was Mark- 
ham Davidson, a very old friend of his, the author of 
several well-known works on Metaphysics and Psycho- 
logy. There was nothing peculiar about him — features, 
complexion, expression, clothes, and walk were all 
perfectly natural. They belonged to the Markham 
Davidson he knew, but whom he had not seen for ages. 
And yet, how, if he were flesh and blood, had he passed 
through several inches of solid brick and mortar ? How ? 
Unquestionably he could not have done so, unless — 
well, unless he had suddenly acquired superphysical 
properties, and projected his immaterial body after 
the manner of one of the phantasms about which he 
was so fond of writing. Walking across the room 
with a quick tread, the figure displayed certain manner- 
isms — a forward poke of the head, a prematurely old 
stoop of the shoulders, and a bend of the arms — ^un- 
mistakably those of Davidson. Delaney noted, too, 
that Markham looked remarkably well — ^his cheeks 
were ruddy and full, his eyes were bright, his move- 
ments full of energy. In one hand he carried a stamped 
envelope, and in the other an umbrella, with which 
he tapped the ground vigorously as he walked. He 
moved in a straight line without looking to the right 
or left, and, stepping into the waU a few feet from 
the window, disappeared before Delaney could utter 
a sound. 

^^ As the whole occurrence had occupied so short a 
space of time — ^three or four seconds at the most — 
Delaney tried hard to persuade himself that the pheno- 
mena was an hallucination, but, try as he would, he 
could not bring himself to believe that what he had 
seen was entirely subjective. There on the wall was 
the very spot where the figure had emerged, and there, 
exactly opposite, the very spot through which it had 
vanished. No hallucination, he argued, could have 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 173 

been so vivid, nor could it have embraced so many 
graphic and minute details. Details ! Yes» crowds 
of details. He remembered them all distinctly, especially 
the tie. There was a redness about it — ^a very peculiar 
redness he did not recollect seeing in any otiier tie* 
It impressed him greatly, and he could not eradicate it 
from his mind. 

** He noticed the envelope, too, not so much because 
it was addressed to P. Delaney, Esq., as because it 
was white, startlingly white, whilst the stamp was 
the same very pronounced red as the tie. Long after 
the figure had gone, Philip pondered over these idiosyn- 
crasies, and the more he thought of them, the more 
perplexed he grew. What he had seen was, without 
doubt, the phantasm of Markham Davidson— of the 
living Markham Davidson, ide^tical with his old friend, 
Markham Davidson, in all but the colour of the tie. 
Red, blood-red ! What one earth could have possessed 
Davidson to wear such a colour ! He pondered over 
this as deeply as though it had been one of the 
most weighty problems of the Stock Exchange, and 
when he went to bed that night and looked in his 
mirror, he saw, instead of his own tie, a blood-red 
one. 

^^His dreams took disturbing forms. Three times 
following he saw Markham Davidson struggling for 
dear life in a dreary looking pool, situated by the 
side of a very lonely mountain road, and overshadowed 
by tall pines, that creaked and groaned like lost souls 
every time the wind smote them. With such per- 
spicuity were the details in these dreams stamped 
on his mind, that each time he awoke he saw them 
again; there they were, everywhere he turned — ^the 
glimmering white road with the wide expanse of snow 
on one side and on the other the long line of low stone 
wall, beyond which lay darkness and the pool. Heavens I 
what a pool it was — ^inky black, unfathomably deep, 
and hideously suggestive of an antagonistic, insatiable 



174 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

something that lay crouching in its bosom, ever on the 
look-out for prey, 

^^ Delaney was fascinated. Although he realised 
that the very atmosphere of the place was intensely 
evil, that it had a wholly demoralising effect and con- 
taminated everybody and everything that came near 
ity although absolutely he understood all this, yet he 
Allowed himself to be drawn unresistingly towards 
it. 

" When he awoke from one vision of it, he craved 
heaven and hell to permit him to see another. And 
in this manner he passed the whole night. 

^* On coming down to breakfast, the first thing that 
arrested his attention was an envelope — an envelope 
addressed to him in the well-known writing of Markham 
Davidson. He tore it open, and with breathless excite- 
ment read as follows : — ' Dear Phil, — ^It is a very 
long time since I heard from you. . • . An irresistible 
craze has just come over me to go to North Wales. 
Strange, because, as I daresay you remember, I have 
always detested Wales. Now, however, I am eaten 
up with a mad desire to go to Llanginney, an out- 
of-the-way spot somewhere near Cader Idris. I never 
heard of it till yesterday, when it suddenly attracted 
my attention as I was gazing at an atlas. Will you 
join me there for a day or two ? I go to-morrow 
(Wednesday), and intend staying a week. It would 
be very pleasant once again to tramp the country-side 
with you. . . .• 

^* Delaney looked at the postmark ; it was stamped 
11.80 p.m. Could Davidson have been on the way 
to the pillar-box, when he (Delaney) had seen his 
phantasm ? If that were so, then, undoubtedly, it 
was a case of unconscious projection. Markham, 
whilst thinking of him (Delaney) in connection with 
the invitation to Llanginney, had unconsciously 
separated his immaterial from his material body and 
projected it. Delaney had read one or two works 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 175 

on psychic phenomena, and understood from them 
that spirit projection was not only quite feasible but 
far from uncommon* However, he could not accept 
Davidson's invitation. He had not the money. Go 
to Uanginney, indeed 1 Why, Davidson might as 
well have asked him to travel to Petrograd. And 
yet — the pool, that white road, those shaking pine- 
trees, that lurking invisible something. Could he 
resist ? For a solid hour he battled with himself, 
battled till the sweat rose to his brow and poured 
down his throat and chest. Then he decided. To 
join Davidson was utterly out of the question. He 
had neither the time, money, nor inclination. Like 
the majority of writers, Davidson was a creature of 
impulse — erratic and irresponsible. He, Philip Delaney, 
was different. He was a materialist, wholly practical 
and level-headed. He never acted on the spur of the 
moment, never chased wild geese. In a very superior 
frame of mind he sat down and wrote to Davidson, 
expressing his extreme regret at not being able to accept 
his invitation. Then he got up, breathed a sigh of 
relief, and, clapping on his hat, went off to business. 

*' All that day, however, whilst he was brooding 
over figures in his office, and listening to the ceaseless 
babble at the 'Change, his mind reverted to the pool. 
It was that black piece of water, always that water, 
and Davidson in his red tie, always that particular 
red tie, struggling in it. At last he could stand it no 
longer. He felt that even if he had to sell his wife, 
and house, and children, he must yield to this attraction 
— ^this damnable attraction — and go I 

^^ Darting out of his office, shortly after luncheon, he 
hurried to the railway station and took the first train 
home. In less than half an hour he had made all the 
necessary arrangements for a brief absence, packed 
his valise and secured a hansom. (All this happened 
long before the advent of taxis.) 



176 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 



«« 



The train was an express to Chester, but the rest 
of the journey was slow, and it was nine o'clock before 
he found himself on the single platform of Uangdly, 
the nearest station to Uanginney. 

^* Delaney enquired as to how he was to reach his 
destination, and was informed by the solitary porter 
that, if he wished to get there, he must walk. 

** ' Itere ain't no vehicles for hire in this part of 
the country,' the porter said. * Everyone that comes 
here has to use their feet. You can't mistake the road. 
You've only to keep straight on — and you are bound to 
arrive there.' 

*^ Delaney smiled grimly. He felt as little like walking 
as he had ever done in his life, and, besides his gladstone, 
he had a raincoat and umbrella. 

*^ Fortunately the night was fine, and ere he had 
covered his first half-mile, the moon broke out from 
behind a cloud and illuminated the entire landscape. 
For the next mile or two the road was fairly flat, and 
then it gradually began to rise, the scenery becoming 
wilder and wilder. Every now and then he paused, 
and, throwing back his head, drank in deep breaths of 
the heather-scented air. Delicious I What a change 
from London 1 He calculated he must have done 
about three-quarters of the distance, when he arrived 
at a turning — ^the entrance %o a lane — ^a lane that at 
once made him shudder. He paused opposite the 
turning, and tried to find some explanation for his 
fear. 

** It was certainly very lonely, and the white patches 
of moonlight on the footpath and hedgerows suggested 
much ; but, after all, it was only suggestion — sugges- 
tion which a few simbeams would at once dissipate. 
He was standing within the shadow of a clump of 
firs facing the lane, and looking intently ahead of him, 
when, at a distance of some fifty or so yards, the figure 
of a man in a mackintosh slowly emerged from a gap in 
the hedge. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 177 

^* The man merely glanced in Delaney's direction, 
and then, turning round, moved on down the lane. 
But the glimpse, momentary though it had been, 
was sufficient to enable Delaney to identify the person. 
It was Davidson ; he knew him at once by his man- 
nerisms, and he instinctively felt he had on that tie — 
that flagrantly vulgar, blood-red tie. In an instant 
he formed a resolution. He would give his friend 
a surprise. With this intention in view he dropped 
his valise, and, stepping noiselessly forward, he followed 
Davidson. On and on they went, the one keeping 
fifty or so yards behind the other, till there came a 
sudden bend in the lane, and then Delaney received 
a shock. Spread out before him, exactly as he had 
seen it in his dreams, was the panorama of the white 
glinmiering road with the wide, wild expanse of moor- 
land on one side, and on the other the long line of 
wall, and — ^the pool. Nothing could have been more 
like, and it was intensified by the brilliancy of the 
moonbeams. Crouching in the heather, Delaney watched 
Davidson slowly walk up to the edge of the water, 
fold his arms, and gaze in a reflective manner into 
the shadowy depths. Tlje moments flew by, and 
still he gazed. Then there came a brief, distracting 
interval, during which the moon disappeared behind 
a bank of black, funereal clouds. When it emerged, 
the figure of Davidson had vanished, and Delaney 
occupied the spot where he had stood. 

'* ^ The pool, the greedy, insatiable pool ! ' he mut- 
tered. ^ Dark, deep and devilish. The three D*s. 
I might even add a fourth — danmable ! * And turning 
round with a chuckle, he was preparing to go, when 
someone vaulted the stone wall to his left and rapidly 
approached him. 

. " * You don't mean to say you are still pottering 
about here,' the stranger, a man about Delaney's 
own height and build, panted. * I thought you had 
returned to the inn long ago.' Then, perceiving his 



178 BXf ISRIENCBB AS A GHOST HUNTSll 

mistake, he said in amasement, ^Why^ it*s someone 
else I I beg your pardon, sir { I quite thought you 
were an acquaintance of mine.' 

^^ * Dayidson, by any chance ? * Delaney asked 
pleasantly. 

^^ ^ Yes, Markham Davidson,' the stranger said in 
astonishment. ^ Do you know him, too ? " 

^* * I am his old friend,' Delaney laughed, ^ and I am 
on my way to join him at Uanginney. I merely stopped 
here to look at the pool.' 

^^ ^ The pool,' the stranger ejaculated, eyeing him 
curiously. * It is not the pleasantest place in the world, 
is it ? ' 

^^ ^ No,' Delaney replied, * but it has its fascination. 
Where did you leave Davidson ? ' 

^^ * At the entrance to this lane half an hour ago,' 
the stranger answered, scanning the dark surface of the 
water anxiously. * I wanted to get as far as the brow 
of the hill over yonder, but, as Davidson complained of 
feeling tired, I set out alone. He said he would follow 
me slowly and wait for me somewhere about here. 
Did you by any chance hear a cry ? * 

" * A cry ! ' Delaney exclaimed. * A cry ? No. 
Did you ? ' 

'^ * I thought I did,' the stranger said, moving away 
from the edge of the water ; ^ that is why I hurried 
here. Perhaps he is somewhere about. Supposing we 
call.' 

** They shouted till they were hoarse, and the great 
hills opposite hurled back the echoes of their voices, but 
there was no other reply. Not a sign of Davidson. 
At last the stranger touched Delaney on the arm. 

"* Come,* he said with a shiver, *the night air is 
cold. Davidson must have gone back to the inn, and 
uinless we make haste we shall be locked out. They go 
to bed at eleven.' 

" Very reluctantly Delaney gave up the search, 
and the men were soon tramping along the road in 



EXPERI£NGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 179 

silence — each apparently too prc-occupied with their 
own thoughts to speak. Occasionally Delaney glanced 
covertly at his companion, and whenever he did so, 
he surprised the latter in the act of peeping cautiously 
at him. Eventually the lights of Uangihney hove in 
view, and several of the other visitors at the inn strolled 
out to meet them. 

" * No, Davidson has not returned,' was the reply to 
their enquiries. * We have seen nothing of him since 
you left. It*s not eleven yet, however ; he has still 
half an hour, and on such a night as this it would be 
practically impossible to lose one's way.' 

^^ Delaney engaged his bed, and half an hour later, as 
Davidson had not yet come back, he made his way 
to the landlord's private parlour. On the threshold 
he met his recent companion. 

" * Who is he ? ' he enquired of the landlord, directly 
the door was closed, and he heard the stranger's foot- 
steps echoing softly down the passage. 

" * Who is he ? ' the landlord sleepily exclaimed. 
* Why, Mr. Hartney, a London lawyer. Quite a well- 
known man in town, so I'm told. No, he has never 
been here before, and as far as I'm aware he had never 
met Mr. Davidson till to-day. Will I send someone to 
look for Mr. Davidson ? Why, that is what Mr. Hartney 
has just asked me 1 No, sir, I have no one to send,' 
and he spoke somewhat testily. * Some of my men 
have gone — ^those who sleep out, and the rest are in 
bed. I shall leave the door open. We aren't afraid 
of burglars in this part of the coimtry. No, as I told 
Mr. Hartney, there is no fear of the gentleman being 
lost — he has gone a little further than he intended, 
that is all.' And the landlord yawned so emphatically 
that Delaney beat a hasty retreat. 

'^ ^ I'm going to bed,' he said, as he passed Hartney 
in the hall. ^ The landlord assures me there is no fear 
of any harm having befallen Davidson, and that he is 
sure to turn up all right.' 



180 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 



4& C 

ii 

CC 



Do you think so ? * the lawyer queried. 
Delaney nodded. 

* I know Davidson,* he said ; ^ I have known him 
since boyhood. He is the least likely person in the 
world to meet with mishap.' 

^^ ' I am glad to hear you say so,' Mr. Hartney respon- 
ded. * Very glad. I fancied somehow^ — ^but there, it 
must have only been fancy. Being intimately acquainted 
with Mr. Davidson, you would of course know his voice, 
and had he really called out, you would certainly have 
heard him. It is doubtless a mere fancy on my part. 
Good-night ! ' 

^* As Delaney wearily climbed the staircase and 
peeped through the bannister, his eyes encountered 
those of the lawyer steadily following him. Dog-tired, 
he lost no time in undressing, but when he got into bed 
he found sleep would not come to him. He lay first 
on one side and then on the other, he tried not to think, 
he resorted to every possible device, but it was all of 
no avail. It was the pool, always the pool, the pool 
and the blood-red tie. He kept seeing them before him, 
and they continually bade him get out of bed and 
come to them. At last, unable to resist them any 
longer, he got up, and after slipping on his clothes, 
stole noiselessly out into the still and narrow country 
road. 

" When he had gone a few yards, he thought he 
heard a door shut behind him, but, on turning round 
and perceiving no one, he attributed it to fancy and 
went ahead at a brisk pace. At last, to his relief, 
the pool came in view. There it was, just as he had 
seen it, moon-kissed and silent, with the huge firs 
shaking their heads ominously on the far side of it, and 
the long line of glittering white wall casting its black 
shadow on the grass and gorse, running away from it, 
in an apparently interminable line, on the side nearest 
him. It was a sight he knew he would never forget 
as long as he lived. 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 181 

•^^Approaching the brink of the pool, he walked 
dowly round it, peering anxiously into the water. 
Suddenly he gave a start. Something white abruptly 
bobbed to the siuface. He looked closely at it, and 
fancied he discerned a face. He was about to attach 
a name to it, when he heard something behind him. 
Swinging sharply round, he confronted Hartney. 

" ' Good heavens 1 You here I ' he exclaimed. 

* Whatever brought you out at this time of night ? ' 

" * I might say the same to you,* the lawyer replied. 

* What brought you here ? ' 

" * Davidson,' Delaney said. * Do you know, I can't 
help associating him with this pool. It is damnably 
fascinating.' 

*^ ^ I can't help associating him with that cry,' Hartney 
remarked. ^ I am certain it was his voice t Good 
God 1 what's that ? ' And he pointed frantically at 
the white thing bobbing up and down in the water, 
just where the moonbeams fell thickest, and not half a 
dozen yards from where they stood. 

** * Where ? * Delaney said, pressing close to him 
in a great state of excitement. * Where ? Ah ! I see 
it now. It's looking towards us. That — ^well, if you 

wish to know what it is ^" He left off abruptly. 

There was a wild scream, a heavy splash, and he con- 
tinued his sentence. ^ That, Mr. Hartney, is the soJ^^tion 
you seek to the mystery.' And he went back to the 
inn alone, chuckling. 

'^ The sequel to this narrative comes as a surprise. 
Hartney was not drowned. Being a very powerful 
swimmer, and lightly clad, he got to the other side of 
the pool, and, clambering up the bank, he wrung the 
water from his clothes and ran all the way to the inn. 
On arriving there, to his intense astonishment, he found 
Davidson, safe and sound, and dressed in clothes two 
or three sizes too small for him. Davidson's experience 
had been very similar to hisf own. Delaney had suddenly 
seised him round the waist and hurled him into the middle 



1B2 BXPBRIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTBR 

o| the pool. There, he declared, he felt something like 
very big and icy cold hands trying to pull him down; 
He cried for help and prayed, and, as he prayed, the 
hands relaxed their grasp, and he managed to struggle 
safely to shore. The shock of what he h^ gone through, 
however, was so great that he felt too ill to get back to 
the inn, and he was compelled to rest awhile at a farm, 
where he obtained a hot bath and a suit of clothes. 
As Davidson knew Delaney's wife and family, he begged 
Hartney, for their sake, to keep the affair as secret as 
possible. 

^^ The doctor^ who was called in to examine Delaney, 
could not certify him as being actually insane. How- 
ever, he strongly recommended him to go into a private 
home for a time, where he would be kept under constant 
supervision, and Delaney did as the doctor advised. 
But after being in the home about a month he escaped^ 
and was eventually found drowned in the lonely pool 
near Llanginney. 

" From the description given me of Delaney, I am 
under the impression that the figure I saw in the mac- 
kintosh was his ghost. But what about the figure 
Hartney was positive he saw floating in the water ? 
Was it the phantom of someone who had perished 
there, or had Davidson again unconsciously projected 
himself ? I incline to the latter. This is the case in 
toto, and it was told to me by Hartney, who got all 
the details, apart from those he had himself experienced, 
direct from Davidson and Delaney." 



CHAPTER XIV 

I GO ON WITH THE HISTORY OF MY LIFE, AND NAU&ATE 
A GHOSTLY HAPPENING IN UYEBPOOL 

I GAVE up acting directly I became engaged to be 
married. I had no alternative, as my fiance's parents 
strongly disapproved of the Stage, and so long as I 
was on it, they would, I knew, never consent to my 
union with their daughter. But it was rather a wrench^ 
for I really liked acting, and, with the exception of 
the Sunday travelling, the life suited me well. What 
other occupation to choose was a poser. All the diffi- 
culties that had faced me on my return from the States 
once again presented themselves, and were aggravated 
by the fact that I was many years older. I was racking 
my brain to know what to do for the best, when I 
received a letter from an old friend in Cornwall, who 
suggested' that I should go down there and open up a 
small Preparatory Boys' School. It was Hobson's 
choice, and in due course of time I found myself once 
again engaged in the profession I loathed. I started 
with four or five pupils, and had worked up my connec- 
tion till I had nearly thirty, when someone, with more 
money than I, set up on a much bigger scale, and my 
numbers gradually decreased. 

I was never an orthodox pedagogue ; very much 
(he reverse. I aimed rather at I^aking my pupil« 



184 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

manly than at cramming their heads with book work, 
and, I think, I succeeded. There were exceptions, of 
course, but my pupils as a whole developed a fondness 
for games, both cricket and football, that bore subse- 
quent fruit when they left me and went on the public 
schools. The out-of-door occupation that formed part 
of my life now was delightful, but the dry and dull 
monotony of the schoolroom, and the eternal interference 
of certain of the parents of my pupils, who wanted 
everything for nothing, for my fees were ridiculously 
small, took it out of me so much, that I simply longed 
to throw up the whole thing and get back to my dearly- 
beloved stage or writing. 

It was while I was in Cornwall that I got my first 
book, ^^ For Satan's Sake,*' taken. Mr. Ranger Gull, 
who was at that time reader for Mr. Arthur Greening's 
publishing house, read the MS., and was so pleased 
with it, that he recommended it strongly for publication. 
It was accepted, but did not appear in print for fully 
a year. 

"The Unknown Depths," which I had written in 
St. James' Road, Brixton, followed ; then " Jennie 
Barlowe," which I wrote between school hours in 
Cornwall in the Spring of 1906; then " Dinevah the 
Beautiful," the last of my efforts in Brixton. The latter 
appeared in 1907. 

In the winter of 1908 my wife was ill, and in the 
evenings, when my harassing duties in the school- 
room were over, I used to sit by her bedside evolving 
fresh plots. It was then that I first conceived the idea 
of writing a ghost book. 

In my holidays, which I usuaUy spent in London or 
the Midlands, never in Cornwall — ^I always flew away 
from the precincts of the schoolroom the moment we 
broke up — ^I had often gone ghost-hunting, and I now 
determined to make use of my experiences. Conse^ 
quently, I mapped out a synopsis of a work on haunted 
houses, which was at once accepted by Mr. EVeleigh 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 185 

Nash, who commissioned me to write a book on those 
lines. I did this in the Summer of 1908, and the book, 
which appeared in the Autumn of that year and was 
entitled ^^ Some Haunted Houses of England and 
Wales/' created scmiething of a sensation. It was not 
only extensively reviewed by the London papers, but 
by many of the American and Colonial ones as well. 
iSrom that time onward my pen has rarely been idle, 
and, apart from compiling some dozen or so works on 
the Superphysical, I have written innumerable short 
stories and articles. Indeed, so associated has my 
naipe become with everything appertaining to the 
psychic, that publishers are inclined to the idea that 
I cannot write upon any other subject. In this, how- 
ever, I venture to think they are mistaken ; for my 
two works, ** The Reminiscences of Mrs. E. M; Ward " 
and ^^ The Irish Abroad,*' both published by Sir Isaac 
Pitman & Co., have been very favourably received by 
both the I^ess and public. 

It was, however, the success of this first work of 
mine on ghostly phenomena that made me realise that 
what I had long hoped for had at last come within 
measurable distance of attainment. I could give up 
teaching and devote my time once again, wholly and 
solely to writing. Never shall I forget with what joy — 
with what imbounded and infinite joy — ^I hailed the 
prospect of leaving for ever behind me all those weary, 
dreary hours in the schoolroom, where I had been 
forced to display a patience I never had, and where I 
had been forced to assume a virtue I never really 
possessed, namely, a love of teaching. 

I made public my intention of giving up the school 
in the summer of 1908, and the following winter saw 
me snugly ensconced in a little house in Upper Norwood, 
where I have been ever since. 

Several writers, one of whom I had the pleasure of 
meeting in London quite recently (his brilliant character 
studies of young and charming girls figure monthly in 



186 BXPBRISNGS8 AS A GHOST HUNTER 

certain of the popular magazines), have been credited 
with introducing to the public, none too favourably, 
this Cornish Colony amongst whom I lived. If they 
have done so, I can certainly endorse their sentiments. 
In no other town that I have been in have I ever met 
people who laid themselves open to such unfavourable 
criticism. I lived there nearly eight years, and durii^ 
that time I received the bare minimum of hospitality. 
} found the greater number of the inhabitants bigoted 
and Pharisaical and the townfolk and labouring people 
not only extremely ignorant, but very unforgiving and 
vindictive. That they were still — ^that is to say, at 
the time I am writing of — in a tribal state was proved 
by their puerile attitude of hostility to strangers, 
whom they used frequently to insult and annoy. I 
signed two petitions relative to the throwing of stones 
at visitors, which petitions were forwarded to the 
Home Secretary. The result was nil. The local 
authorities, in dealing with such cases, displayed the 
most woeful apathy, and apparently this state of affairs 
was irremediable, since the magistrates, with few excep* 
tions, were related to half the people in the town. 

With the Art Colony I had very little to do. The 
few artists I knew at all intimately I liked. I found 
them congenial and generally sympathetic, though 
displaying an avidity in criticising authors, which, 
considering their touchiness with regard to any criticism 
of their own work, was distinctly amusing ; all the 
same, apart from this and one other harmless peculiarity, 
namely, an exaggerated and unblushing deference to 
titles, I found them very good fellows, and nearly all 
the hospitality I received in the town I received from 

them. 

I think I am right in saying there was never a v«ry 
friendly feeling between the townspeople and the 
artists. The townspeople looked upon the artists as 
intruders, " foreigners,'* whose ways and habits were 
diametrically opposite to theirs, especially with regan} 



BXPERIENCE8 AS A GHOST HUNTER 187 

to the treatment of the Sabbath ; whilst the artists 
showed a none too well concealed contempt for the 
townspeople, whom they seemed to regard not only as 
hopelessly inartistic, but of an utterly inferior breed. 

In most small towns there is a good deal of unkind 
gossip and scandal, but I really think that in this 
respect the town I refer to was unrivalled. It seemed 
to me that the people were never so happy as when 
saying malicious things about each other, and they 
meanly victimised those whose limited means would 
not permit of their taking legal action against them. 

I have often wondered what made these people so 
peculiarly unkind. 

As 9oon as I had settled down in Norwood, I wrote 
** Ghostly Phenomena," which was reviewed at length 
by Andrew Lang in the ^^ Morning Post.'' About that 
time I had the great pleasure of meeting Mrs. E. M. 
Ward. The rencontre happened thus. The Misses 
Enid and Beatrice Ward, S&s. Ward's youngest daugh- 
ters, were getting up some theatricals, and, being short 
of a man, asked a lady, with whom I was acquainted, 
if she knew of anyone who would help them out of 
the difficulty. She wrote to me, with the result that 
I took part in the play, and thus had the good fortune, 
to meet the Wards, with whom, I am happy to say, I 
have kept in touch ever since. 

A year or so afterwards I edited Mrs. Ward's re- 
miniscences, which was, almost without exception, well 
received by the ftess. Some papers, " Vanity Fair 
and the ** Weekly Graphic," for instance — ^the "Graphic 
has always been very kind and fair to me, — giving the 
book several lengthy and highly eulogistic notices. 
Mrs. Ward is a believer in ghosts, and in her reminis- 
cences there is a very interesting first-hand experience 
of hers with the Superphysical. Mrs. Ward's children^ 
apart from the fact that they inherit talent from their 
mother and father, and grandfather, their great-grand- 
father, James Ward,. R. A., and their great-great-uncler 



99 



188 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

George Morland, R-A., are very interesting in them- 
selves and possess exceptional personal attractions. 

A year after I first visited their house, I was com- 
missioned by the Editor of " The Weekly Despatch," 
Mr. Benley, to write a series of ghostly experiences for 
that paper. In order to do this I made pilgrimages to 
all parts of the comxtry, and in my zeal to find ghosts 
occasionally encomitered objects of a very different 
nature. On one occasion, in Brighton, I had taken 
advantage of a slightly open window to enter a tiny 
house I had been told was very badly haunted. It was 
a very dark night, and being unable to find my matches, 
I had to grope my way about. I was in a room with 
apparently never ending walls — ^they seemed to go 
round and round without any outlet at all. At last, 
however, I nuinaged to discover a doorway, and, passing 
through it, I felt my way to a staircase, which I climbed 
up, till I came to what I judged to be a landing. There 
all further speculations were brought to an abrupt 
end by my suddenly falling over some large, soft object 
on the floor. In an instant, there was a loud yell, and 
I found myself rolling over and over clawing and 
clutching at some foul and unsavoury mass, that seemed 
to have fastened itself on to me with the intention of 
first probing out my eyes, and then throttling me. The 
small flask of whiskey that I happened to have on me 
undoubtedly saved me from total annihilation. The 
moment the claw*like hands touched the flask, I was 
free. 

I staggered to my feet, searched again, and, this 
time, fortunately found the match-box and struck a 
light. 

Crouching on the floor in front of me was a long, 
%hin, scraggy creature with an absolutely bloodless face 
and two big, round, protruding black eyes. Its hair 
was nuktted like a mop and tossed about anywhere; 
its dothes, or rather rags, were buttonless, and only 
together, here and there, by pieces of filthy string* 






EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 18» 

A more disgusting^ and at the same time pitiable, 
spectacle could not be imagined. 

It was fortunate for me that I had had previous 
experience of such sights in the parks and commons of 
London, otherwise I should have been terrified out of 
my wits. As it was, I only just managed to pull myself 
together, and realising that what I saw before me was 
not a ghost, but a material and now, as far as I was 
concerned, harmless being, I spoke to it. 

** Well,^* I said, " at any rate you seem to like my 
whiskey. How long have you been here ? " 

The flask was gradually lowered, and a voice, which 
I decided was that of a woman — ^for up to the present I 
hadn't been able to decipher its sex — gurgled, ^^ I sleep 
here every night. This is my house." 

** Then the enigma is solved,** I said. " You are the 
ghost 1 ** 

" I soon shall be,'* the creature replied, " for I've 
eaten nothing for more than two days.'* 

^^ Well, I'm afraid I cannot give you any more than 
this," I said, "for it's all I have with me." And I 
handed her some biscuits and bread and cheese. 

Never shall I forget the savage joy with which she 
snatched the food from my hand and crammed it into 
her big, gaping, fleshless jaws. No animal in the Zoo 
was half so voracious. When she had finished it all, and 
drained the last drop of whiskey, she drew her lean 
and dirty, albeit well-shaped, fingers across her mouth, 
and cursed me. 

" Get you gone," she snarled, " and leave me here. 
I tell you this is my house. I've as much right to it 
as you or anyone else. Grct you gone, or I'll spit at 
you." And not wishing to be spat upon, I picked up 
my flask and departed. 

I encountered another ghost of this order three 
nights later in a house in Manchester. The house 
was furnished, but was untenanted, as the owner, a 
rich and eccentric old lady, believed it to be haunted. 



190 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTEtl 

She 'wrote to me, apropos of my book, ^"Ghostly 
Phenomena," and suggested I should try and exorcise 
the ghost. Now I do not altogether believe in exorcism. 
There are occasions upon which it has been practised 
with success, mostly in cases of haunting by phantasms 
of the sane dead, but there are also many cases, within 
my own experience, in which it has been practised with 
no result whatever. 

At all events, with my dastic views regarding denomi- 
national religion, I did not fed disposed to try it, and 
so I wrote and t(dd her. She replied, ^^ Come in any 
case, and give me your opinion as to the nature and 
cause of the phenomena." 

I went. The house was in a quiet, sleepy thoroughfare, 
not three minutes walk from the Whalley Road. It 
was big a;nd roomy, and would have been attractive 
but for the walls, the papers of which had obviously 
been chosen by someone who did not possess even the 
most elementary conception of what is pleasing in 
colour and design. As it was, my artistic susceptibilities 
were so grossly outraged, that I could well have imagined, 
the place haunted by neutrarians of the most undesirable 
order. 

I visited the house in the early evening, and the 
subdued light from the fast-fading sunshine, filtering 
through the drawn Venetian blinds, produced a singularly 
sad, and, at the same time, ghostly effect. I had come 
unaccompanied, for nothing on earth would persuade 
the old lady or any of her domestics to set a foot in the 
house, and as I wandered through room after room, 
the intense hush began at length to tell on my nerves. 
When I was on the staircase leading to the top'storey, 
I fancied I heard a slight noise, and a sudden faintness 
coming over me, I had to clutch hdld of the banisters 
to prevent myself falling. I went on, however, and 
opening a door at the top of the stairs, found myself 
in a large room communicating with two other rooms 
by means of doors, both of which stood dightly ajaiy 



BXl^BlUENGBS AS A GHOST HUNTER 191 

I had passed through the first, and was half across 
the floor of the second, when I suddenly felt one of 
my ankles caught hold of. The shock was so great 
that all the blood in my body seemed suddenly to dry 
up, and again I all but fainted. Forcing myself to 
look down, however, I perceived a skinny hand and 
arm protruding from under the dressing-table, and 
assur^ by the appearance of it that it belonged to 
nothing ghostly, I struck at it with my stick, kicking 
out vigorously at the same time. 
V With terrible bowlings there now crawled from under 
the table a long and lanky idiot boy. It transpired 
that he was the son of one of the old lady's servants, 
and that he was enjoying a nice, comfortable home at 
her expense. His mother used to visit him every 
evening, and this evening he had hidden under the 
table with the intention of frightening her. Unfor- 
tunately for them both, however, he had frightened 
me instead. The servant, df course, lost her post, 
and the old lady, assured that there was no longer 
any fear of ghosts, came back to the house, and, at 
my suggestion, had all the walls re-papered. 

The following week I had another rather strange 
experience in Liverpool. I was getting dozens of letters 
weekly at that time, as the first of my series of ghost 
stories had appeared in the ^^ Weekly Despatch," 
and my fame as a spook hunter had spread far and 
wide in consequence. A lady in Liverpool wrote to 
me, saying that her daughter, Emily, was tormented 
by a man coming into her bedroom every night at 
.the same time and walking off with her bedclothes. 
He said nothing, merely opened her door, and, approach- 
ing the bed on tip-toe, caught hold of the clothes and 
hurriedly retreated with them. Spirit lights, my corres- 
pondent added, were constantly seen in the room, and 
at times figures like angels, and she would be glad if I 
would visit the house, and discover for her, if possible, 
some explanation of the occurrences. The nature of the 



192 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

manifestations being somewhat extraordinary, I thought 
it discreet to take a friend. The house was in a crescent, 
dose to Clayton Square. We were shown into the 
drawing-room, where all the family were assembled, 
and we were at once regaled with detailed accounts of 
all that was alleged to happen. Then we were taken 
to the bedroom that was haunted, and the young lady 
whose bed the ghost stripped, at our request, sat there 
with us. As soon as the electric light was switched 
off, she began to see spirit lights. We saw nothing. 
No man appeared, and, on taking our departure, we 
both agreed that the phenomena were subjective, and 
that it was simply a case of hallucination. Accordingly, 
I advised her mother to consult a good general prac- 
titioner, as, in all probability, her daughter needed a 
tonic and change of air. I strongly warned her against 
consulting any professional Spiritualist. 

Well, I returned to London, and thought no more 
of the matter till the following Christmas, when, quite 
by chance, I ran against a young doctor, to whom I 
had mentioned the incident. Evidently eager to com- 
municate something, he remarked, *^ You remember that 
Liverpool case you told me about — the case of the 
young lady whose bedclothes used to disappear, ^and 
which you thought was hallucination ? Well, you 
were mistaken. Since I saw you, I have become ac- 
quainted with the doctor who attends her, and he 
told me that, whilst he was there one day, the bedroom 
door opened and in walked a young man. He says 
the girl immediately exclaimed, * Here is the man 
who haunts my room at night. For goodness sake, 
Doctor, do something ! ' Whereupon, the man, mutter- 
ing some words in German, abruptly left the room. 
My doctor friend immediately ran after him, but he 
was nowhere to be seen, and although the house was 
at once searched, no traces of him could be found. 
Now, what do you think of the case ? " 

** It is certainly a very unusual one,** I replied, 



I 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 193 

*^ and, as you say, this sequel quite upsets my theory 
of hallucination. It may be a case of projection. 
Someone who knows the girl and wishes to torment 
her is experimenting in visiting her in his immaterial 
ego. I have heard of similar cases. 

" But she knows no one like him," my friend re- 
sponded. 

" Probably not," I said. " The image she sees may 
be, and very likely is» merely an assumed one. Does 
she know any Indians, or anyone who is an earnest 
student of the occult ? Find out if you can." 

I have not yet heard from my friend, but I still incline 
to the idea that the ghost in this case was a phantasm 
of the living, rather than a phantasm of the dead. 






CHAPTER XV 

SOME STRANGE CASES IN BIRMINGHAM, HARROGATE, 

SUSSEX AND NEWCASTLE 

Whilst I was still writing for "The Weekly Despatch," 
I happened to visit an old friend of mine, a Captain 
Rupert Tenmson, who was staying with an aged relative 
in the Hagley Road, Birmingham. 

** This is hardly the house you would expect to see 
a ghost in, is it ? " he remarked to me after luncheon. 
*' And yet I can assure you I had a very remarkable 
psychic experience here, in this very room. IVe often 
wanted to tell you about it. It happened one New 
Year's Eve three and a half years ago. My aunt had a 
nephew, on her husband's side, called Jack Wilmot, and 
he and I used to meet here regularly at the commence- 
ment of every New Year. On this occasion, however, 
my aunt informed me that Wilmot was unable to 
be present, as he was detained in Mexico, where he 
had a very good post as a mining engineer. 

" I was much disappointed, for Wilmot and I were 
great pals, and the prospect of staying here alone 
with the old lady struck me as perfectly appalling. 
I resolved to make the best of it, however, for I was 
genuinely sorry for my aunt, whom I could see was 
quite as disappointed as I was. I arrived late in the 
cdtemoon of December 81st. We dined at seven, and 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 19S 

at nine my aunt went off to bed and left me in this 
room by myself. 

** For some time I read — ^no, not one of your books, 
0*Donnell — a €kiy Maupassant; but the light being 
rather bad, and my eyes tired, for I had been travelling 
all the previous night, I was at last obliged to desist 
and devote myself entirely to a pipe. 

^^ The servants went to bed at about ten. I heard 
them tap respectfully at my aunt's door on their way, 
and wish her good-night. After that the house was 
absolutely silent, so silent, indeed, that the hush began 
to get on my nerves, and I was contemplating retiring 
also, when heavy footsteps suddenly crossed the hall and 
the door of this room was flung wide open. I looked round 
in amazement. Standing on the threshold was Wilmot. 

** * Why, Jack ! ' I cried. * I am glad to see you, 
old fellow. Your aunt told me you could not come. 
How did you manage it ? ' 

*^ * Quite easily,' he said in the light, careless manner 
which was one of his characteristics. ' Where there's a 
will, there's a way, you know. I've taken French leave.' 

" ' Taken French leave ! ' I ejaculated. * Then there'll 
be the deuce to pay when you get back. Anyhow, 
that's your affair, not mine. You'll have some supper ? * 

*' ' No,' he said ; ' I had a very good meal a short 
time ago, and I'm not the least bit hungry. We will 
chat instead.' 

'" He pulled his chair up to the table, and, leaning 
his elbows on it, stared right into my face. 

" ' You don't look very well. Jack,' I said. * Maybe 
this strong light has something to do with it, but you 
are as pale as a sheet. Is it the voyage ? ' 

" ' Not altogether,' he replied. * I've had a lot of 
trouble lately.' 

* Tell me,' I said. 

' Won't it bore you ? ' he replied. * After all, wny 
should I bother other people with my woes. Oh, all 
right, I will if you like. 









196 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 



(( C 



(& 4 
4( 4 



Some months ago there came to the town where 
I am working a wealthy Spaniard and his wife. Their 
name was Hervada. He was a tail, lean, sour-faced 
old curmudgeon, and she one of the most beautiful 
young creatures you can imagine. You can guess what 
happened ? ' 

You fell in love with her, of course,' I cried. 
From the moment I saw her,' Jack replied. 
You got introduced,' I said. 
Trust me,' he laughed. ^ I found out where she 
lived, and the rest was so easy that before the end of 
the week I had dined with them, and also had had 
one clandestine meeting in the Park. At first her old 
villain of a husband suspected nothing. But it is 
infernally hard to keep up a pretence for long, when 
one is really madly consumed with passion. Eyes are 
sure indicators of what the heart feels, at least mine 
are, and when Hervada suddenly looked up and caught 
me gazing at his wife as if I could devour her, the cat 
was completely out of the bag. I give him credit for 
one thing, however : he took it very calmly. Despite 
his unprepossessing exterior he could at times be ex- 
tremely courteous and dignified. 

" * You will oblige me by settling this matter in 
the way customary to gentlemen in this country,' 
he said. * You must remember you are not in England 
now ; you are in Mexico. Have you a revolver ? ' 
I am never without one,' I replied. 
Then,' he observed, ignoring the intervention of 
his wife, whose apprehensions were only too plainly 
more on my account than on his, ^ we will step on to 
the verandah.' 

** * What ! ' I said. * You don't mean to say you 
actually fought a duel ? ' 

** Jack nodded. ' Yes ! ' he said. * We measured off 
twenty paces, and then, turning round, fired.' 

* And you killed him ? ' 

* That would be your natural surmise,' was the reply. 



44 4 
44 4 



44 
44 



\ 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 197 

* But you are mistaken. It was I who was killed.' 

*^ The moment he had said these words, he seemed 
to fade away, and before I could recover from my 
astonishment, he had completely disappeared, and I 
found myself staring not at him but the blank wall. 
And now comes the oddest part of it. I naturally 
expected to hear Jack was dead. I said nothing to my 
aunt, but I wrote off to his address at once. 

" Judge, then, of my relief when I received a letter 
from him by return of post to say he was absolutely 
fit and well, and getting on splendidly. That was in 
February. In the following August my aunt wrote to 
me saying a very tragic occurrence had taken place. 
Jack was dead. He had been found on the verandah 
of an hotel in Mexico shot through the heart. Though 
the identity of his murderer was generally suspected, 
there was no actual proof, and as the man was very 
rich and influential, it was thought quite useless to 
take up the case. Now what kind of superphysical 
phenomenon do you call that ? " Captain Tennison 
concluded. 

** I can't exactly say," I replied. " It is one of 
those strange prognostications of the future that happen 
more often on New Year's Eve than on any other day 
of the year. 

" I don't think the phantasm you saw was actually 
Wilmot's spirit. I don't see how it could have been. 
I think it was an impersonating neutrarian, one of that 
order of phantasms that have never inhabited any 
kind of material body, and whose special function is 
apparently to foretell the end of certain people, and 
certain people only." 

• ••••• 

When I had finished my articles for " The Weekly 
Despatch," which I was writing in alternation with 
" The Reminiscences of Mrs. E. M. Ward," I took a 
brief holiday, visiting for the first time Matlock and 
Harrogate. 






198 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

Learning that there was an alleged haunted bouse 
in the latter town, I sought, and managed to obtain, 
permission to 45pend a night in it. It was a modem 
edifice of a great height, situated about ten minutes 
walk from St. James* Hall. 

I went there alone, and, on entering the premises, 
encountered an almost death-like air of stillness, which 
contrasted oddly with the world outside, where all was 
life and gaiety. But a moment before I had mixed 
with the streams of ultra-fashionable people heading^ 
for the Spa Concert, the Theatre, and the Valley Park, 
and, so free had they seemed from all trouble and 
responsibility — ^so full of sparkling, spontaneous fun 
and flippancy — ^and above all, so full of the flamboyant 
Gypirit of sheer life, that one could not help feeling, as 
one looked at them, that after all there could be no 
such thing as death for them — ^that such pronounced 
vitality must go on for ever. 

But this house — ^this forsaken house, void of furniture, 
of everything, save the soft summer evening simlight, 
the shadows, and my presence — how different ! Wan- 
dering from room to room, and floor to floor, I at length 
completed my preliminary search, and being somewhat 
tired, I sat down on the floor of the hall, and, taking a 
newspaper from my pocket, started reading. As the 
hours passed by and darkness came on, I began to 
be afraid. No amount of experience in ghost hunting 
will ever enable me to overcome that awful, hideous 
fear that seizes me when I see the last glimmer of 
daylight fade, and I realise I am about to be brought 
into contact with the superphysical, and that I must 
face it — ^alone. 

Noises in empty houses ,1 have noticed usually com- 
mence in the basement, and I was not at all surprised 
when presently I heard a faint tapping proceeding 
from one of the kitchens. This was followed by a long 
spell of silence, and then one of the stairs creaked. 
My heart gave a big thump, and I gazed expectantly 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 199 

into the darkness before me, but there was nothing to 
be seen. Silenee again, and then more tapping, and 
more creaking. Something then tickled my hand, 
and a moment later my fingers touched a blackbeetle. 
In an instant I was on my feet, for I dread beetles 
more than I dread ghosts, and, on my striking a light, 
I found the whole floor swarming. I wondered very 
much at this, because beetles do not as a rule frequent 
houses that have been empty for any length of time, 
especially in a climate like that of Harrogate. I have 
since, however, arrived at the conclusion that where 
there are hauntings, there are, more often than not, 
plagues of beetles, but whether attracted by the ghost, 
or not, I cannot say. 

As I oould no longer tolerate the idea of remaining 
in the lull in the dark, I lighted tour candles, and, 
placing them on the floor, sat in the midst of them. 

It was only eleven o'clock by my watch, and the 
idea of keeping up my vigil till the morning did not 
strike me as particularly pleasant. I took up my paper 
and again began to read. Half an hour or so passed, 
and then I received a start. A door opened and shut 
downstairs, and bare footsteps pattered their way along 
the stone passage and up the wooden stairs. 

The nearer they drew, the more intolerable became 
my suspense. What should I see ? A white-faced, 
glassy-eyed phantasm of the dead, or some blood** 
curdling, semi-human, semi-animal neutrarian. Which 
woulditbe? I confess I would have given all I possessed 
to be out in the road, but, as is usually the case with 
me when in the presence of the superphysical, I was 
quite powerless to speak or move. Then, to my un* 
feigned astonishment, instead of anything grotesque and 
awful, there appeared before me a little fair-haired girl, 
dad in a much-soiled pinafore and without either shoes 
Of stockings. 

Though not actually crying, she appeared in great 
distress, and feeling around on all sides, as if anxiously 



200 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

searching for someone, she ran past me, and commenced 
to ascend the stairs. Picking up a candle, I folloTved 
her, and, as the patterings of her poor, chilled feet 
spread their echoes far and wide through the vast 
deserted house, I thought I had never experienced 
anything half so pathetic. On and on we went, the 
little thin legs leading the way, till we reached the top 
storey, when she ran mto a room facing me, and slasmied 
the door. I immediately followed, but the room was 
quite empty. There were no signs of the child ; there 
was only a particularly vivid beam of moonligKt, and 
a virile and overwhelming atmosphere of sadness. 

During the next few days I was told a story tliat fully 
accounted for the hauntings. 

It appears that about thirty years before my visit 
to the house a little girl had lived there with her father 
and step-mother. Her nurse, to whom she was very 
much attached, being summarily dismissed by her 
step-mother, she became ill, and very soon died, so it 
was rumoured, of a broken heart. 

Shortly after her death the house was to let, and no 
tenant, I found out, has ever occupied it since for very 
long. 

I have often wished that I had spoken to the sad 
little spirit, but I was too fascinated by it, and too 
much engaged watching its movements, to think of 
anything else. And I have found that this same fascina- 
tion and preoccupation have prevented me from trying 
to communicate with the ghost in nearly all the cases 
of haunting that I have ever investigated. On the few 
occasions that I have spoken to a phantasm, I have 
received no reply, no indication even that it has heard 
me. 

In a very famous haunted house in the West of 
England, during my investigations which were spread 
over a period of nine, not uninterruptedly consecutive, 
nights, manifestations took place twice, and'^on both 
occasions I stood up and spoke, but in neither case was 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 201 

there any response whatever. This same ghost had been 
subjected to exorcism by a well-known ecclesiast, but, 
far from being exorcised, the ghost so scared his exorciser 
that he all but fainted. These demonstrations were 
visual. In a haunted house that I was asked to visit 
in Sussex I saw nothing, but heard knockings, and by 
means of them tried, though without success, to establish 
a code. I heard of the case in this way. 

A young lady, whom I will call Miss Hemming, wrote 
to me. She and her mother occupied a modem and 
picturesquely situated house at the foot of the Downs, 
and were very frequently disturbed, she said, between 
nine and ten in the evening, by sounds, such as might 
be made with a muffled hammer, on the wall of her 
mother's room. Simultaneously the figure of a young 
man moved noiselessly across the lawn, from the 
direction of a swing. He usually approached her window 
and came to a halt immediately beneath it. He had 
never replied when spoken to. She had fired at him 
several times, but the bullets had had no effect what- 
ever. It seemed as if they had passed right through 
him, because he still stood there, whilst the gravel 
was splattered up immediately behind him. On one 
or two occasions he shone a bicycle lamp on his face, 
so that she could distinctly see his features. It was 
the face of no one she knew, though she fancied it bore 
a close resemblance to a notorious murderer, whose 
photos had been in the papers, and who had expiated 
his crime on the gallows. These were not the only 
manifestations. Stones had been repeatedly thrown at 
Mrs. Hemming, and, although the house was being 
closely watched by the police, the stone-throwing still 
went on, and so far the culprit had not even been seen, 
let alone caught. 

I visited the house once by myself, and once with a 
party of men. On the former occasion I hid in a little 
copse at tht fusthest extremity of the lawn, and watched 
the house and swing closely, but I neither heard nor 



202 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

saw anything. Returning to the house, I was told by 
Miss Hemming that both she and her mother had 
heard the knockings, and that she herself had, at 
the same time, seen the figure on the lawn. 

On the occasion of my second visit, we all heard the 
knockings on the wall of Mrs. Hemming's room, and 
one of us, who was looking out of her daughter's window, 
saw what he fancied were two shadows of human beings 
cross the moonlit lawn and vanish in the direction of 
a hedge. Trickery was practically impossible, as the 
garden was protected on all sides by barbed wire, and 
there were^on the premises four or five dogs, including 
a young bloodhound. We had of course made a thorough 
search of the house and grounds previously. 

One or two other incidents happened during the 
night. When I was in the hall alone, a light, as from a 
bicycle lamp, was suddenly shone in my face, apparently 
from a blank wall, and when we were all seated in 
front of the dining-room fire, we heard heavy footsteps 
cross the hall, and although we ran out* at once we 
could see no one. We were shown the stones that were 
alleged to have been thrown, but none were thrown 
whilst we were there. They were a peculiar kind of 
flint, which certainly did not belong to the neighbour- 
hood. Mrs. Hemming had several times narrowly 
escaped being hit by them, and one had crashed through 
the bedroom window as she was looking out of it. 

I did not continue my investigation of the case» 
because there were certain features in connection with 
it of a private and family nature, which greatly added 
to its complexity, and which would, of necessity, have 
rendered any attempt at solution incomplete and 
unsatisfactory. 

Cases of complex haunting, although, for obvious 
reasons, seldom admitting of any satisfactory explana* 
tion, always interest me the most. Here is one I chanced 
to hit upon in N[ewcastle. 

A house in -^-— Street had stood empty for seven 



^ 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 203 

or eight years, and on my making enquiries about it, 
I was told to apply to a Mr. Black, the last tenant* 
I did so, and Mr. Black very kindly gave me a detailed 
account of what had taken place there during hii^ 
tenancy. It was as follows : — 

^^ A day or two after our arrival I happened to be 
going upstairs, and, as I passed by one of the bed* 
rooms, the door of which was slightly open, I glanced 
in, and saw the figure of a lady, whom I had never 
seen before. She was dressed in green, and standing 
in front of the looking-glass, engaged , apparently in 
putting on her hat. Wondering who on earth she 
could be, for I knew the room had not been slept in, 
I spoke to her, and receiving no reply, I was advancing 
towards her, when she suddenly disappeared. I did 
not know what to make of the affair, but, thinking 
that possibly it was an hallucination, I resolved to 
think no more of it, and to say nothing about it to any 
of my family or household. 

" Some days later, however, when out walking with 
my wife, I met a friend who asked me where I was 
living. I told him, and he exclaimed excitedly: 

" ' Good gracious, not in that house ! Why, my dear 

fellow ' At a sign from me he stopped. I had guessed 

what was coming, and as my wife is extremely nervous I 
thought it best she should not hear what I knew he 
was going to say, namely, that the house was haunted* 

" That night I went round to see my friend. He 
made no bones about it ; he told me that the house 
I had taken was haunted — ^that he knew it for a fact. 

^' ^ Some months ago,' he said, ^ I was thinking of 
taking it myself, and, obtaining the key from the agent, 
went to look over it. It was quite light, not more than, 
five o'clock in the afternoon, and the house seemed 
bright and cheerful. Closing the front door carefully 
behind me, I commenced a tour of the premises. I 
had reached the top floor, and was standing in the 
centre of one of the rooms, when I heard a slight noise* 






204 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

I started, and, turning round in the direction from 
-which the sound came, perceived a lady and a little 
girl standing in the doorway watching me. There 
was nothing at all remarkable about them. The lady 
was dressed in green, the child in white, both modem, 
or at least comparatively modem, costumes. I was 
so surprised at their being there, however, as I knew 
I had shut the hall door, that I simply stood and stared 
at them. Then something much more extraordinary 
happened — ^they vanished. It was not an hallucination 
— ^that I can swear to — ^and thoroughly scared, I tore 
downstairs and out of the house. After this I gave 
up all idea of taking the place, and I can't help feeling 
sorry, old fellow, that you've taken it.' 

In spite of this warning," Mr. Black continued, 
I did not give up the house inunediately. After we 
had been there a week or so, a cousin of mine came 
to stay with us ; and one evening he and one of my 
children, who were in the drawing-room, together heard 
a soft, cautious whistle — ^as if someone were giving a 
signal, coming, they thought, from just behind them. 
The whistle was repeated, and a few minutes later 
they heard a loud cry, half human, half animal, and 
wholly ominous. My cousin pretended it was one of 
the servants, but my child would not be convinced, 
and begged to be taken to bed at once, as she dared 
not remain in the room any longer. After this, pheno- 
mena of all kinds happened ; steps used to be heard 
bounding up and down the stairs at all hours of the 
night ; one of the maids declared she saw something 
that was a man and yet not a man come out of the 
drawing-room with a run, and race up the staircase 
two or three steps at a time ; heavy pantings and 
sighs were heard, and several of the household were 
awakened by a cold hand being laid upon their face. 
But I think the most remarkable thing that happened 
is this : — ^I was sitting in my study one evening, when 
the maid rapped at my door and said that a clergyman 



» « • • 



* % 
«- • • • 



, J * » 



i 



i 



J- • 



> 



" I suddenly caught sight of a large eye 



44 
44 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 205 

(whom she had shown into the drawing-room) wished 
to see me on some very urgent matter. I at once put 
down the book I was reading, and, hastening to the 
drawing-room, found it empty. Wondering what had 
become of the clergyman, I was about to ring the bell 
to enquire, when I suddenly caught sight of a large 
eye, human in shape and horribly sinister, glaring at me 
from behind an arm-chair. I was so frightened that 
I could do nothing but stare back at it, and then, to my 
intense relief, my wife entered the room with a friend,, 
and the phenomenon disappeared." 

And the parson ? " I observed. 

I never heard anything more of him," Mr. Black 
remarked. ^^ The maid assured me on her honour that 
she had shown him into the room« but no one saw him 
leave the house, so he, too, might have been a ghost ; 
but supposing him to have been a living person, his 
disappearance would not be unnatural. He had doubt- 
less seen the eye and precipitated himself into the street 
through the open window. 

** The following day, my children being badly fright- 
ened by something in one of the passages, I decided 
to leave the house ; and, although I afterwards made 
every possible enquiry, I could never hear of anything 
particularly tragic that had ever happened th^re. 
We were the first tenants, so I was told, that had ever 
complained of disturbances, and it was suggested that 
we might have brought the ghosts with us, but as none 
of us had ever seen a ghost before we entered that 
house, and we had no old furniture, at least none that 
we had not always had, and not one of us had ever 
attended a s^nce or in any way dabbled with Spiritual- 
ism, I do not think that theory at all possible. How 
do you account for the hauntings ? " 

" I cannot," I replied, " nor can anyone else. The 
sheer complexity of such a case renders any definite 
conclusion with regard to it extremely difficult, and 
any positive solution of it utterly out of the question."' 



CHAPTER XVI 



WAR GHOSTS 



Or late years the increase of interest taken in things 
psychical, particularly among the more educated classes, 
the classes that were at one time incorrigibly sceptical, 
has been enormous. I believe this to be mainly due 
to the fact that people are no longer satisfied with 
the scriptural declaration of another world. They want 
proof of it — ^that is to say, absolutely authentic and 
corroborative evidence that it exists — ^and they feel that 
they can only obtain such evidence by witnessing 
superphysical manifestations themselves. Psychical 
Research Societies, perhaps, convince them even less 
than the Bible. And naturally, for the scientist, even 
though he be titled, can hardly hope to accomplish in 
one generation what theologians, of an equal if not 
superior intelligence, have attempted and failed to 
accomplish throughout the ages. Hence, I am of the 
opinion that one can learn more from one spontaneous 
ghostly manifestation in a haunted house than from a 
thousand lectures, or a thousand books. Experience 
is the only medium of conviction, and so long as people 
are without a personal experience relating to another 
world, they can never really believe. The boy in rags 
and tatters may be far more conversant with — ^may 
know far more about — a future life than the more 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 207 

learned Professor at the University. But no one can 
logically claim to be an absolute authority on the 
Unknown ; the most any of us can do — even those of 
us who have actually seen and heard spirit manifestations 
—the rest do not count— is to speculate. When we 
attempt to do more, we label ourselves fools. 

Of all the professions, none, I believe, is more inter- 
ested in this question of another world than the theatrical 
I have a great many friends amongst actors and 
actresses, and I find them not only keenly interested 
^ in my work, but always ready— even when working 

hard themselves — to share my vigils in a haunted house. 

Only the other day, at a concert given by the Irish 
Literary Society in Hanover Square, I was introduced 
to Miss Odette Gk>imbault, who recently delighted 
London audiences by her impersonation of the child 
** Doris " in " On Trial " at the Lyric Theatre. Odette 
Goimbault is unquestionably pretty— but there is much 
in her looks besides mere prettiness. She has eyes 
^ that are extraordinarily spiritual, eyes that seem to 

look right into the soul of things and see things that 
are not generally seen by ordinary mortals. 

When a very small child, Odette Goimbault lived 
with her mother in a house at Thornton Heath. A lady 
died of consumption in the flat immediately beneath 
Mrs. Goimbault's, and after the burial, Odette, thou^ 
previously very fond of staying up late, used, every 
night, precisely at seven o'clock, to beg her mother 
to take her upstairs to bed, declaring, in a great state 
of terror and with tears in her eyes, that she saw an 
old man with only one leg standing in a comer of the 
room shaking his stick at her. When once she was 
taken out of the room her fears subsided. 

In my opinion she is an ideal young actress for the 
pourtrayal of soul, for the transmittal of a sense of 
soul to the audience, and I think there is no one, either 
on the stage or off it, who looks niore in touch with 
the spiritual world than Odette Goimbault. 

L 



208 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

But stronger even than its hold upon the theatrical 
profession is the stand that psychism has taken with 
regard to the present war. 

Ever since the fighting began I have heard speculations 
raised as to whether our soldiers at the Front have 
been witnessing ghostly manifestations or not. So far, 
I must own that I have elicited very little reliable 
evidence on this point, but the circumstances have 
established at least one interesting fact, and that is» 
that to the man in the street the question of another 
world has at last become a matter of some importance. 

'The wife of a very eminent official at the War Office 
told me a few weeks ago that officers who took part in 
the Dardanelles Expedition assured her that figures 
believed to be ghosts were on several occasions seea 
gliding over the ground after an engagement, especially 
where the dead bodies of the Turks lay thickest. The 
same lady also told me that when a certain regiment 
formed up after a brilliant charge, in which it had 
suffered very severe casualties, some of the gaps in the 
ranks were observed to be filled by shadowy forms — 
forms which disappeared the moment anyone attempted 
to touch them. 

Neither my informant nor any of the soldiers from 
the Front that I have met have been able to give me 
any information as to the alleged superphysical demon- 
strations in the sky during the retreat from Mons. 
But I should like to record here, in connection with the 
war, a case I heard in Paris. I published an account 
of it in the November, 1915, number of " The Occult 
Review," and now reproduce it through the courtesy 
of Mr. Ralph Shirley : 

*^ The mention of Ferdinand of Bulgaria brings 
vividly back to my memory two stories I heard about 
him, when I was dining one evening in June, 1914, at 
the renowned Henriette's Restaurant in Montpamasse. 
Two men were seated at a table close beside me, and I 
eventually got into conversation with them. They 



I 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 209 

informed me they were journalists, and that their 
names were Guilgaut and Bonivon respectively. 

" * You would laugh, if you knew where I spent last 
night,' I observed. * I was in an alleged haunted flat 
in Montrouge. I don't suppose either of you believes 
in ghosts ? ' 

" * I do,' Guilgaut said. * I have had more than oite 
experience with an apparition in my life, and so has 
my friend.' 

" ' Yes,' chimed in Bonivon, * we have good cause 
to remember ghosts, since we stayed six weeks in a 
haunted hotel in Bucharest, and never had such an 
infernally uncomfortable time either before or since. 
We never saw the ghost ourselves, but one of the other 
lodgers declared he did, and used to wake us every 
other night by the most unholy screams.' 

" They then talked a lot about th^ir adventiires 
in the Balkans, and finally alluded to Ferdinand of 
Bulgaria. ^ If ever a man is haunted, he is,' Guilgaut 
remarked. * I believe he never leaves his room at night 
without the shadow of Stambuloff, whose death he 
brought about in 1895. It simply steps out from the 
wall and follows him.' 

** * That is a lot of exaggeration,' Bonivon said with 
a laugh. * But, quite seriously, we hcjard on very 
excellent authority that on more than one occasion a 
figure has been seen accompanying Ferdinand some- 
times when dining and sometimes when walking, and 
that it has been recognised by the spectators as Stam- 
buloff, the dead Minister. Once, we were told, Ferdinand 
visited a certain Princess, and it was remarked that 
Her Royal Highness appeared strangely embarrassed and 
perturbed. At last someone ventured to enquire of the 
lady-in-waiting, who also appeared to be greatly per- 
turbed, what was the matter. " It's that man," was 
the whispered reply, ** that man who persists in standing 
beside His Majesty. He never takes his eyes from our 
faces, and he looks just like a corpse." Her interrogator 



k 



210 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

asked her to describe the figure, which he said was 
quite invisible to him. 

^* ^ She did so, and the description tallied eii^actly with 
that of Stambuloff.' 

'*'* Tell him about Ferdinand and the fortune-teUer/ 
Guilgaut said. 

" * Yes, that happened when we were staying close 
to his Kohary estates,' Bonivon responded. * Ferdinand 
is notoriously sly and mean, and one day, as he was 
passing through the village where we were staying, he 
chanced to encounter a charming Himgarian maiden, 
who eked out a very precarious livelihood hawking 
ribbons and telling fortunes. Ferdinand had his hand 
read, and, thinking to trap the girl, disguised himself 
and went to her again the following evening. To his 
astonishment, although the make-up was skilful, for 
Ferdinand is a bom actor in more senses than one, the 
girl recognised him at once as the gentleman who had 
been to her the previous evening. " I was expecting 
you,*' she said. " Expecting me ? " Ferdinand stam- 
mered. "How is that? I've told no one." " Oh, fie I " 
the girl remonstrated, shaking her finger at him. " The 
gentleman who accompanied you last night came here 
himself an hour ago and told me you were coming." 
" What was he like ? " Ferdinand asked, shaking all 
over. " Like," the girl retorted pertly. " Why, you 
know as well as I do," and she rattled off a description 
of the man, which tallied exactly with that of the dead 
Stambuloff, whom, by-the-way, Guilgaut and I had 
seen many scores of times in the early eighties. " Your 
friend," the girl continued, " left a message for you. 
He said — ^tell him when he comes that he will perish 
in very much the same manner as I have done ; and he 
showed me his hand." " And what did you see ? " 
Ferdinand asked. "I saw the same ending to the 
life line in his hand as I see in yours," the girl 
replied. " Why, there is your friend ! He is beckon- 
ing to you. You had better go to him." And, to her 






EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 211 

astonishment, Ferdinand walked off in the opposite 
direction. 

" * We had the story first hand. She told it us two 
or three days afterwards, and expressed great anxiety 
as to the identity of the two men who had behaved so 
strangely to her.' *' 

Only one case of haunting at the actual Front has 
been related to me. I will state it in my own words. 

It happened during the retreat from N . 

The O 's had suffered heavily, and, in the scramble 

to get out of the deadly fire zone, small parties of them, 
owing to the nature of the country, had got isolated 
from the main body and left behind. This was the case 
with a dozen or so men of B Company, who, after racing 
across a field amid a hail of shrapnel, had clambered 
over a formidable barrier of barbed wire into adense wood. 

Under cover of a thick cluster of trees they sat down 
and doctored their wounds. There was not a sound 
man amongst them. Sergeant Mackay had been struck 
in three places in his right leg ; Corporal Maclntj^-e 
had had a good square inch of flesh taken off his thigh ; 
Private Findlay had lost three of his fingers ; and 
Bugler Scott — ^an ear ; while, in addition to these slight 
inconveniences, they were all ravenously hungry and 
parched with thirst. 

" I suggest,'' said Sergeant Mackay, after a brief lull 
in their conversation, " that we push on again and see 
if we can find some sort of habitation where we can 
get a mouthful." 

" Aye, moil I " Corporal Maclntyre replied, for during 
such ** sauve qui peuts " all formality of rank is dropped, 
" It's the wee drappie I'm thinking after, and imless we 
get some of it pretty soon there'll not be any of us left 
to need it. I'm bleeding like a pig, and so are a good 
many more of us." 

** Very well, then," Sergeant Mackay observed, cising 
with difficulty, and wincing in spite of his efforts to 
appear comfortable. " Let us press on." 



I 



212 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

The men were all absolutely ignorant of their surround- 
ings. They had seen nothing of the country save from 
the train, and during a few hours' tramp from the 
railway depot to the lines they had just evacuated. 
Consequently, for all they knew to the contrary, the 
wood that lay in front of them might stretch for miles, 
or might be inhabited by anything from grizly bears 
to hysenas — for the knowledge of the British " Tommy '* 
with regard to the fauna and flora of Belgium is ex- 
tremely limited. 

Threading their way through the thick undergrowth, 
they stole stealthily forward, the roar of artillery still 
soimding faintly in their ears, till at length they emerged 
into a wide clearing, at the far extremity of which stood 
a neatly thatched white cottage. It was so home-like 
with its small plot of flower-bedecked garden, its walls 
covered with clematis and honeysuckle, and its tiny 
spiral column of smoke curling heavenwards, that the 
bleeding and exhausted men gave deep sighs of relief. 

^^ Reminds me of Scotland," Private Findlay whis- 
pered. 

*^ It's as like my mother's cottage as two peas," 
Private Callum retorted. 

They halted, and were looking at Sergeant Mackay 

to see what he would do — for bold as the O ^*8 are in 

battle, they are often among the most bashful of His 
Majesty's troops in time of peace — ^when suddenly the 
door of the cottage opened and an old woman appeared 
on the threshold, armed with a blunderbuss. Glaring 
fiercely and shouting, she put the weapon to her hip 
and fired. There was a loud bang, and one or two of 
the men uttered ejaculations of pain. 

** God save us I " Sergeant Mackay cried. " The gude 
wife takes us for Germans." Then addressing the 
woman, who was pouring another handful of shot into 
the muzzle of her infernal piece of antiquity, he called 
out, * Are ye daft or glaikit ? Dinna ken that we are 
Scots. Anglaiis." 






V 

I 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 213 

It was the only word of French the Highlander knew, 
and, on shouting it three times in rapid succession, and 
with increased emphasis, it had effect. The old wonoan 
lowered her weapon, and shading her eyes with a lean, 
brown, and knotted hand, exclaimed. *'^ Ah, moi dieu, 
les Anglais ! On me dit que les Anglais sont les amis des 
Belgiques. Et je vous aurai tu^ I Pardonnez-moi 
messieurs." 

This speech was of course lost upon the Highlanders, 
who would have laughed — so comic was the picture of 
this old woman with the ancient gun — ^had they not 
been faint from exhaustion. 

Now, as she beckoned to them to approach, they 
dofied their caps and filed in at her gate. Sergeant 
Mackay leading the way. 

The interior of the house was as they had expected — 
scrupulously neat and clean. 

" Wipe your boots, boys,** Sergeant Mackay whispered. 
" We mustn't put the old lady out more than we can help. 

They all trooped in. As soon as they were seated the 
old woman vanished through a low doorway, reappearing 
a few seconds later laden with bread and cheese and wine, 
which she watched them eat and drink with perfect satis- 
faction, and when they had finished, conducted them to 
a loft at the back of the cottage, where she made them 
understand by signs they could lie as long as they pleased. 

^^ I kinna think,** Sergeant Mackay said, as soon as 
their hostess had retired, " where the Germans are. It's 
passing strange they have not put in an appearance here." 

" Maybe they've gone by and missed this spot. It's 
nae sae handy," Private Findlay said. " Anyhow, I'm 
for sleeping — ^for it's ten days since I shut my eyes." 

" It's the same with me," ejaculated Private Mc- 
Callum. "I hae not slept a wink since we left Plymouth.'* 

Apparently they were all of the same opinion — 
namely, that they needed rest ; and, without further 
ado, every man selected a place in the hay, stretched 
himself out at full length, and was soon fast asleep. 



L 



214 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

The afternoon wore away, the sun set, and one by one 
the stars made their appearance, but still the men slept. 
The gloom of the forest thickened, and with the long 
and waving shadows of the elms and beeches crept 
forth forms of a more tangible and sinister nature. 
Sergeant Mackay awoke with a start, and, springing to 
his feet, strained his ears and listened. 

" Nightmare I " he said. " I made certain the 
Germans had got hold of me. Weel, weel, it*s nowt but 
a dream. I will go and see what the gude wife is about, 
and, perhaps, if she hae not gone to bed, she will gie 
us some hot tea or milk — ^that red wine of hers hae 
made me uncommon thirsty." He scrambled down 
on to the ground, and, leaving the rest of the men 
still asleep, crossed the yard and pushed c^en the 
door leading to the kitchen. He was about to 
enter, when there came a half-choking cry and the 
front of the house filled with soldiers. Sergeant Mackay 
knew them at once — ^they were Germans I Shrinking 
back into the shadow of the doorway he stood and 
listened. Though he could not imderstand their jargon, 
he soon formed an idea of what was taking place. They 
had caught the old woman by surprise and were dis* 

cussing what they should do with her. Had the O s 

been armed. Sergeant Mackay would not have hesitated 
— ^he would have staked anything on a win against 
odds at six to one, but in their hasty flight the men had 
left their rifles behind them, and it would be sheer 
suicide for them to attack the Germans with their bare 
fists. Therefore it at once entered his mind to slip out 
quietly and warn his comrades, so that they could 
escape without their presence being detected. A cry 
of pain, however, made him hesitate. 

Two Grermans had hold of the old woman^s arms and 
were twisting them round. 

The difficulty of his position was not lost on Sergeant 
Mackay. If he played the knight errant and helped the 
old woman, he would not be able to give his comrades 






I 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 215 

the necessary warning, and they would all be taken 
prisoners — ^perhaps shot. On the other hand this gude 
wife had been extremely kind to them, and was proving 
her loyalty by maintaining an absolute silence as to 
their presence in the cottage. Could he stand by and 
see her abused ? He could not. There was too much 
of the Gael in him for that, and as the old woman gave 
another gurgle, he stepped out from his hiding place, 
and picking up a kitchen chair, rushed at her captors, 
both of whom he stunned. He was, of course, eventually 
borne down by numbers, and dragged to the ground. 

" What shall we do with him ? '' one of the men who 
were holding him asked. ^^ The dog 1 He has broken 
Fritz's head, and more than half kiUed Hans. He has 
arms like a bullock.*' 

*^ Hang him,'' the sergeant in charge of the men 
replied. ^^Tie him and the old woman together and 
hang them from this beam." And he pointed to a 
great, white rafter running across the ceiling. 

Sergeant Mackay's yniform should, of course, have 
protected him, but, then, as the German sergeant put 
it, this cottage was well hidden in the woods, the English 
were evacuating the country, and no one was likely to 
come across the bodies, saving Belgian peasants who 
dare not say anything, and German soldiers who would 
not say anything. So* Sergeant Mackay was dragged 
up from the floor, beaten and bruised till there was very 
little of him left, boimd tightly to the old gude wife, and 
hanged with her. The Germans then ransacked the 
house, and were preparing to explore the outer premises, 
when a bugle rang out, and they hurriedly left the 
cottage. Ten minutes later, when all was quiet, into 
the house, on tip-toe, stole the rest of the O s. 

** God save us ! " ejaculated Private Findlay, starting 
back and pointing to the grim figures swaying gently 
from the ceiling. ^^ God save us ! Sae what the deils 
hae done !" 



216 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

** Halt 1 " The word of the Colonel, transmitted by 
his adjutant to the head of the column, brought the 
O s to a dead stop. 

For this they were not altogether sorry, as they had 
been footing it for eight or nine hoiirs on end — and 
every little respite was welcome. But the Colonel in 
this instance, at least, was not intentionally a good 
Samaritan. He had halted, not for the purpose of resting 
his men, but because he was fogged as to his where- 
abouts. The night was inky black, the country difficult 
— eU hills, deep depressions and thick woods — ^and the 
Colonel, relying implicitly on the guidance of his intelli- 
gence officer, whom he supposed had made himself 
thoroughly familiar with the locality, found himself 
obviously going astray. He should now be at a railway 
bridge, which was six miles from the village of Etigny, 
the last landmark. But no such bridge, as far as he 
could judge, was anywhere near, and Lambert, the j 

intelligence officer, on being questioned, admitted he J 

did not exactly know where they were. That is why j 

the Colonel had halted. His object was to make a flank 
attack on the German outposts, who were supposed to 
be in hiding in a wood, some three miles to the south 

of T 9 where the extreme right of their main army 

lay, and obviously it was of no use advancing any 
further until he had ascertained the direction in which 
he must steer. 

In this wood was a cottage, that had been enlarged 
and fortified, and hitherto used as a place of internment 
and hospital for English prisoners, until they could be 
transported to Potsdam. Reports had reached the 
English CO. that the Germans intended killing all 

their prisoners, if compelled to evacuate T y and so 

the O s were to endeavour to rescue these prisoners, 

whilst at the same time outflanking and cutting oflf the 
German outposts. The movement had, of course, to 
be in the nature oi an entire surprise, and the hospital 
to be rushed, if possible, without any firing. According 



99 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 217 

to Lambert, the wood was about one mile due east of 
the railway bridge, and there was a tiny path near a 
mill, on the outskirts of it, that led to the rear of the 
cottage. To miss this path would be dangerous, as the 
wood elsewhere was covered with morass and full of 
quarries. 

" Well, Lambert," the Colonel said, " you have led 
us into a deuced rotten hole, and you must get us out 
of it somehow. Surely you have some idea of our 
whereabouts." 

Lambert peered again into the darkness and shook 
his head. ^* On a night like this," he argued, '^ it is 
easy to make mistakes. We must have come much 
further to the west than I intended." 

^^ Well, then, we had better veer round and make for 
the extreme east," the Colonel said tartly. 

" Would it not be as well to return to Etigny, sir, 
the Adjutant suggested. 

" What, six miles — ^lose all that time — ^and with our 
men already pretty well exhausted 1 " the Colonel 
retorted angrily. " No, that is utterly out of the ques- 
tion. Lambert has brought us here, and, egad, he must 
take us on to our destination." 

Lambert took a few paces into the darkness, and was 
again peering round, when a yoimg lieutenant ap- 
proached the Colonel and saluted. 

*^ If you please, sir," he said, ^^ a man has just arrived 
who says he will act as our guide." 

^^ A man ! A German, I suppose you mean ? What 
language does he speak ? " 

^* English. At least in part. He is a Scot. Shall I 
bring him to you ? " 

The Colonel gave a gruff assent, and in a few minutes 
the subaltern returned, followed by a tall figure enveloped 
in a long black cloak. With one accord the Colonel, the 
Adjutant and Lambert all swung round and eyed him 
curiously. 

Who and what are you ? " demanded the Colonel. 



(( 






218 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

" Tm an inhabitant of these parts," the stranger 
answered, " and I have c5ome to offer you my services 
as guide." 

" You're in the pay of the Germans, of course," the 
Colonel retorted shaxply. "How did you know we 
wanted a guide ? " 

I overheard your conversation." 
What 1 " the Colonel cried furiously. *' You have 
been listening to what we were saying. Take him away^ 
Anderson, and have him shot at once." 

No one moved. A sort of spell stole over Lambert, 
the Adjutant, and Anderson, and held them rooted to 
the ground. The Colonel repeated his order, and was 
about to lay hands on the stranger himself, when the 
latter waved him back. 

** In an emergency like this. Colonel R ^," he said, 

** you must take what Providence sends you. I am no 
m^pre a German spy than is your son. Alec, who is, 
probably, at the present moment returning from an 
afternoon's march out with the O.T.C. at Cheltenham." 

** Great Heavens," the Colonel gasped, " how do you 
know I have a son Alec, and that he is at Cheltenham. 
Who are you, sir ? A renegade ? " 

** No, Colonel, I'm not," came the reply. ** I'm some- 
one in whom you can place perfect confidence. Trust 
yourself to me and I will conduct you at once to the 
cottage in the wood." 

** It's very extraordinary. I don't for the life of mc 
know what to make of it," the Colonel muttered, turning 
to the group of officers by his side. " What do you 
advise, Lambert ? " 

^* Under the circumstances, sir," Lambert replied 
slowly, " I should trust him. You can have him shot 
if he leads us wrong." 

" That's true," the Colonel murmured, and turning to 
the stranger, " Did you hear what Major Lambert 
said ? I can have you shot, if you lead us astray. And, 
by Jove, I will. Take your position at the head of the 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 219 

column. If we are successful, I will see that you are 
adequately rewarded ; if you betray us — ^you die. Do 
you understand ? *' 

" I do. Colonel," the stranger replied, " and I accept 
your conditions willingly." 

He stepped back, and, at a signal from the Colonel, 
followed Lieutenant Anderson to the head of the column. 
A sergeant and a corporal — ^two old and tried veterans — 
took up their positions a pace or two behind him, and^ 
at a word from the Colonel, the whole battalion was 
once more on the move. On and on they went. A dull 
tramp, tramp, tramp, but in a completely different 
direction from the one in which they had previously 
been going. It was all so pitch dark that the corporal 
and the sergeant had to keep very close to the stranger 
to see him. 

**He marches just like one of us," the Sergeant 
whispered, ^^ and yet I kenna hear the sound of his 
feet. What do yOu make of him ? " 

" I don't know," the Corporal replied. " I seem to 
know him, and yet I haven't seen a feature of his face. 
Something about him reminds me of the night I escaped 

from N . It strikes me. Sergeant, that the cottage 

the Colonel is after is the very one in which we took 
shelter." 

** Then you know the way ? " 

** Nae," Corporal Findlay replied. " I was too rushed 
and scared that night to remember much. The onlj 
thing I can remember seeing plainly is those two corpses 
swinging from the beam — Sergeant Mackay's and the 
gude wife's — and the scene comes back to me vividly 
now as I look at this guide of ours. Why, I dinna ken.'* 

" Be ready to shoot him, mon, the instant there's 
treachery," the Sergeant whispered. 

" Aye, Aye I " Corporal Findlay replied, tapping the 
barrel of his rifle knowingly. " He'll nae want a second 
dose." 

On and on they tramped, till presently they forsook 



k 

.» 



220 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

the highway for a field, and then, plunging down and 
down, eventually f oimd themselves upon level ground 
facing some trees. " This is the wood," the guide 
observed, " and here is the path. After we have travelled 
along it in Indian file, and on tiptoe, for two miles, we 
shall emerge into a small clearing, where a low mud wall, 
overtopped by a machine gun, will confront us. The 
soldiers supposed to be on duty there have been drinking 
red wine all day, and are now sleeping. If you approach 
noiselessly you will be able to climb the wall and take 
them by surprise. The cottage is then yours." 

" But there are sentries in the wood." 

^^ One ! He will be leaning on his rifle dozing. You 
must creep up to him and settle him before he has time 
to make a sound. I will tell you when we approach 
him." 

The guide advanced, and the whole battalion of 
O s stalked along behind him. 

** I shall be gay glad when this job is over," Corporal 
Findlay murmured. ^^ I would as soon spend the night 
in a kirkyard." 

However, although every now and then a rustling of 
leaves that heralded a rabbit made them start, and the 
ominous screech of an owl caused the hair on the scalp 
of more than one superstitious Celt to bristle, so far 
there was no real cause for alarm, and on and on the 
battalion stole. At last their guide halted, and every 
man behind him instantly followed suit. He whispered 
to Corporal Findlay and the Sergeant, and, making way 
to let them pass, kept close to their heels, guiding them 
by what appeared to be a minute bull's-eye lantern. 

On turning a sharp bend in the path. Corporal Findlay 
and the Sergeant saw the sentry, as their guide had 
described him, asleep, and, before he had time to awake. 
Corporal Findlay had dashed him to the ground with a 
swinging blow from the butt-end of his rifle. Three 
minutes later, and the head of the column found itself 
facing the mud wall and the machine-guja. This was 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 221 

the critical moment. If their guide meant mischief, now 
was his opportimity. Following closely at his heels* 
their rifle and revolver at his head, the Sergeant and 
Corporal crept up to the wall, and, one by one, the rest 

of the O B filed into the open space after them. 

Holding their breath the Highlanders laid hold of the 
top of the wall, then with a sudden stoop, they swung 
themselves upwards. The sleeping sentinels awoke, but 
only to feel one short, sharp thrust — and the pangs of 
death. The outer position won, the Highlanders next 
turned their attention to the cottage and the enclosed 
space in front of it. There, a strong body of German 
infantry were stationed, and, as they came rushing out 
to meet the intruders, they shared the same fate as their 
companions. In ten minutes there was not a German 

left alive, and the O s, their bayonets dripping with 

blood, were busy liberating the English prisoners. 
When it was all over, and the Colonel and his staff were 
sitting down in the front parlour of the cottage enjoying 

some refreshment. Colonel R suddenly remembered 

the guide. " Anderson," he said, " fetch that fellow — 
our guide — ^m here. It's not very gracious behaviour 
on our part to leave him outside, for, egad, if it had 
not been for him we should not be where we are. More- 
over, I want to see him — ^IVe an idea he's someone I 
know." 

The subaltern departed, and after an interval of £k)me 
minutes returned, followed only by Corporal Findlay. 

'* Hulloa 1 " exclaimed the Colonel, looking up sharply 
from his meal. ^^ This is not the man I wanted. Where 
is he ? " 

" If you please, sir," the subaltern said, in a voice full 
of suppressed excitement, " Corporal Findlay can tell 
you all about it — ^he was the last to see him.*' 

** The last to see him," growled the Colonel. " Why^ 
what the deuce do you mean. Where is he ? " 

** I can't say, sir," Corporal Findlay began. " After 
the fight was over I followed him into this cottage^ 



222 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

right into this room. And he halted just where you are 
sitting, under that beam," and he pointed to the great, 
white rafter immediately over the Colonel's head. " He 
then turned roimd, sir» and drawing aside the cloak, 
that had hitherto hidden his face, showed himself to 
mcl*' 

** Good God, man, you needn't look so frightened I " 
the Colonel cried. " He wasn't the devil, was he ? " 

" No, sir, he wasn't the devil," Corporal Findlay 
responded. ^' He was Sergeant Mackay of the first 
battalion — ^and the last time I had set eyes on him was 

in this room on the night of the retreat from N ^ when 

I and several others of the O s found him hanging 

from that rafter— dead." 

^^ And then," said the Colonel, after a long pause, 
*' and then what happened ? " 

" Why, sir," Corporal Findlay replied, " he smiled, as 
if something had pleased him mightily, and waving his 
hand — disappeared." 

*' And you expect me to believe such a cock and bull 
story as that," the Colonel said slowly. 

" It's the truth, sir," Corporal Findlay said slowly. 
*' Sergeant Scott can corroborate it, for he was with 
me all the time." 

" There's no need to do that," the Colonel answered, 
*' for I know you have spoken the truth. This is by no 
means my first experience with ghosts — only — ^for 
goodness sake do you and Sergeant Scott say nothing 
about it to the other men. If you do there won't be 
an ounce of nerves left among them by the morning. 
Germans are one thing, but ghosts another 1 It was a 
splendid revenge for Sergeant Mackay ! " 

• • . • • •. • 

The stories I have just narrated must be taken for 
what they are worth. Though I believe they were told 
me in good faith, I cannot vouch for them. 



I 



CHAPTER XVII 



A CASB FROM JAPAN 



SivfCE Japan is a country in which I believe many 
people are intensely interested, I do not think I need 
apologise for introducing here the following account of 
a Japanese haunting. 

Never having been to Japan, I cannot lay claim to 
having had any ghostly adventures there myself ; but 
as this is copied, word for word, from the MSS. of 
Mr. G. Salis, which was very kindly lent me for the 
purpose by Mrs. Salis (Mr. Salis's mother), I can most 
certainly answer for its authenticity. 

. • • • « • 

"In the spring of 1918, I settled in the village of 
Akaji, in the southern Island of Japan, in order to work 
a colliery. The country in this part is mountainous and 
quite off the track of any tourists, and the inhabitants 
remain in a very primitive condition. All the people 
are either farmers, miners, or the keepers of very small 
shops, and there is not a single hotel nor even an inn. 
I stayed at first in one of the rooms of a farm house, 
and, after a little while, was able to lease an old thatched 
farm house, standing in a small orange orchard, quite 
close to the colliery. 

" Its owner lived in a little house at the back. My 
house was one-storied, but very high, the pitch of the 






224 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

thick thatch being very steep. On entering, one found 
a kitchen with various cooking places, but no chimneys : 
the smoke curling and losing itself among the huge 
rafters that supported the roof. The rest of the house 
was raised, and consisted of four rooms divided from 
each other by sliding paper-covered screens or fusuma^ 
and with thick padded straw mats or tatami on the 
floor. I got a table and chair, and put up some book 
shelves, and made the best room as habitable as possible. 
This room had a tokonoma, or recess, painted a dark 
grey ; and a scroll, a crystal and a vase of flowers put 
in it gave the necessary decoration to the severely bare 
interior. For the first few months I slept in one of the 
back rooms, but later, when it got very hot, I only used 
the one room. I had one servant, and as we got up at 
dawn, we also went to sleep very early, and usually by 
nine o'clock the house was in darkness and silence. 
One night I was awakened, and heard talking and 
laughing in the next room, only separated from me by 
a thin screen. Someone was telling a story in an ani- 
mated voice, and his auditor every now and then 
ejaculated ^ naruhode ' (to be sure) and * sodesuka ' (is 
that so), but the voices were kept low and the laughs were 
subdued. Just then the kitchen clock struck two. I waa 
annoyed at my servant having friends in at that hour» 
and in the room next mine, and determining to have it 
out with him in the morning, I fell asleep. Next morning 
he absolutely denied that anyone had been in the house, 
and became very indignant when I insisted on what t 
had heard. 

*^ Two nights later, I again heard a conversation 
going on, and reluctantly got out of bed and from under 
the mosquito curtains to investigate. A low chuckling 
laugh and then a snatch of song — and I pushed back the 
sliding fusuma. The room was in darkness, but I had 
a little electric torch which I used in the colliery, and, 
pressing its button, the room was brightly lit. Inside 
the mosquito curtain, Tanaka lay « soundly sleeping — no 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 225 

one else was in the room ; indeed, but for the futon or 
mattress covered by the net it was completely bare, 
and the talking still went on, seeming now to come from 
ihe room behind me« I awoke Tanaka, and we went 
out into the garden. No one was stirring, and the sounds 
came from inside the house. Away, down the road, 
three miners were returning from a night shift, and my 
servant wanted to run and fetch them, but I did not 
see the object of doing so. The mosquitoes were very 
bad, and I wanted to get back under the nets, conversa- 
tions or no conversations, and so we re-entered the 
house. Silence reigned, and I went back to bed — ^but 
not to sleep — ^for the remainder of that night. Tanaka 
took the opportunity, while I was at the colliery the 
next morning, to pack up his few belongings and decamp, 
leaving a letter saying he could not stay in a house 
frequented by demons. I got a girl in from the village 
as a makeslidft, and afterwards another servant, but 
no one would stay in the house after nightfall. I moved 
my bed into a room at the back, but still used the other 
room as a living room, and soon became used to the fact 
that it was haunted. Often, during the day, there were 
noises coming from near the tokonoma or recess — as 
though someone was cracking his finger joints, a habit 
the Japanese have ; on several occasions, flowers put 
in the vase below the hanging scroll were taken out of 
their vase and arranged lying on a tray. One afternoon 
I brought my bed into the room, as the autumn was 
now getting cold, and I had been unwell for some days 
and wanted the benefit of the afternoon sun. I sent 
the servant to buy some stamps at the Post Office, a 
mile away, and stepped into the garden to gather some 
late dahlias. Looking up I distinctly saw a movement 
in the room I had left, through the pane of glass let into 
the paper-covered shoji. Dropping my flowers, I 
pressed my face against the pane, and saw the bed- 
clothes, which the servant and myself had arranged, 
only five minutes previously, had been whisked off and 

p 



226 EXPERIBNGES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

were lying on the floor. Twice after this, coats hung on 
a peg near the tokonoma were found almost imme- 
diately lying on the floor at some distance, one having 
been pulled from its peg with such force as partly to 
tear it. 

'^ On many nights, when I woke up, I heard talking 
in the next room, and gradually came to distinguish a 
man's voice, sometimes I thought two men's, and 
certainly that of a woman and a baby. All the village 
were now talking of the haimted house, and, now and 
then, neighbours came in to listen to the mysterious 
sounds that came, from time to time, from the tokonoma, 
but they took good care to be gone before sunset. 

'* Winter had now come, and I fell ill, and as the 
only really pleasant room in the house was made im- 
possible during the long sleepless nights, I redoubled 
my endeavour to find another house. A baby's wailings 
were very distinct, then it was hushed by its mother, 
and then long conversations ensued between her and 
one or two men — sometimes there were little taps, as 
though a tobacco pipe were being emptied of its ashes, 
but more often a curious noise was heard which sounded 
like ^ putter putter.' About this time, an account 
appeared in all the Japanese newspapers of a bridge in 
Tokejo, which was haunted by a woman, and how this 
spirit had been laid by priestly intervention, and it was 
suggested that the same might be tried in the present 
case. I thought it rather a good plan, but, seeing that 
it was rather expensive, said that the landlord and not 
his foreign tenant should defray the cost and arrange 
the matter. But my landlord, who was very impopular 
in the village, and with whom I was not on very good 
terms, would do nothing ; and as, just then, another 
house near the colliery became vacant, I was able to 
move, and so at last be free of my ghostly visitants. 
Everyone knew of the reason for my leaving, and the 
landlord felt sure he would never find another tenant. 
After the house had been empty for some, time, the 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 227 

landlord himself determined to live in it for some months, 
in order to demonstrate that things were not so bad 
after all. He, and his wife, and their two grandchildren 
accordingly moved their things across from their other 
house, but did not at first occupy the room with the 
tokonoma. Seeing, however, that their object in being 
in the house at all would be defeated unless this room 
was used, they hung some pictures in the recess, placed 
a bronze flower vase on a carved stand below them, 
and also moved in a gilt shrine containing an image of 
Buddha. A few friends were asked in, but all left at 
sunset. Next morning I heard that there had been 
considerable distiirbance at the house, and that the 
younger grandson had been taken with convulsions. 

^^ The same day a move was made again to their 
former abode, the house was closed, and still remains 
empty. A temple on a hill near by was being repaired, 
and, on the completion of the work, a priest came to 
hold a service. The head man of the village took the 
opportunity of consulting with him, and together they 
went to see my late landlord. The facts brought to 
light, many of which were vaguely known in the district, 
are as follows :-— The house had been built about one 
himdred and fifty years previously by the head of the 
family, which was then of more consequence than at 
present, although it still owned considerable property in 
pine forests and rice fields. A younger brother of the 
original builder had conspired against his feudal lord 
and had committed smcide — ^hara-kiri. It was not 
known in which room, but probably it was in the 
principal one. The next tragedy, that was known of, 
had happened some fifteen years before, when the son- 
in-law, the father of the two boys already mentioned, 
was found hanging from a hook near the wooden ceiling 
of the room with the tokonoma. He had been away 
for some time in Tokejo, had spent a great deal of 
money, and, on his return, had quarrelled violently with 
his wife. She had run out of the house with her children. 



i 



228 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

and had stayed on the hillside all night. Next morning 
her husband was found as above stated. Some months 
later, again in the same room, on the eve of the birth 
of her posthumous child, this woman killed herself by 
drinking poison, made from the leaves of a shrub still 
growing in the garden. During the convulsions which 
preceded her death, the child was bom, but dead. 

^* The priest said there was no doubt that the spirits 
of these various people, related by family ties, and lives, 
passed among the same surroundings, and who had all 
come to a dreadful violent end in the same house, and, 
probably, the same room, were earthbound, and were in 
the habit of assembling and conversing in the room 
where their lives had come to an end. Each addition 
would strengthen and intensify their bondage, and the 
priest, expressed his surprise that the spirits were not 
actually visible. There was a good deal of discussion 
as to the terms for a service and ceremony to free the 
house from these ghostly tenants and to give them rest, 
I offered a small sum, but as they were, after all, the 
relations of the landlord, it was upon him that the bulk 
of the expense fell, and he refused to provide the 
necessary funds. His argument was that, even were 
the spirits ^ laid,' no one now would rent the house, and 
so he would not spend any money on it. Whether he 
also thought that the spirits were as happy holding 
their ghost-parties round the tokonoma as they would 
be if they were at rest, he did not say, as such thoughts 
would be contrary to all Japanese ideas on the subject. 
Anyway, the house is now closed, the heavy wooden 
shutters are rolled across the verandahs and bolted, 
the garden is overgrown and choked with weeds, and 
the only time when there is human activity about it, is 
when the orange trees, biirdened with fruit, yield their 
golden harvest. 

" G. Sau9." 

To revert again to my own experiences. I am often 






EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 229 

sorry, extremely sorry, I was ever brought into contact 
with the Unknown. As I said in one of the early chapters 
of this book, I did not go out of my way to seek the 
superphysical — ^it came to me. And it has never given 
me any peace. I feel its presence beside me at all times. 
In the evening, when I am writing, the curtains that 
are tightly drawn across the closed windows slowly 
bulge, the candlestick on the mantel-shelf rattles, a 
pictiire on the wall swings out suddenly at me, and, 
when I go to bed and try to sleep, I frequently hear 
breathings and far-away whispers. Some of these 
*' presences " no doubt have been with me always — 
most probably they were with my ancestors — ^whilst 
others have attached themselves to me in my nocturnal 
ramblings. 

My wife, who was a confirmed disbeliever before our 
marriage, has long since thrown aside her scepticism, 
and for a good reason. She has had many startling 
proofs of the power the spirit has of making itself 
manifest. The night a near relative of mine died both 
she and I heard a loud crash on the panel of our bed- 
room door, and I, though I only, saw a hooded figure 
standing there. Also, besides having heard the banshee, 
my wife has seen objects moved by superphysical 
agency, seen them fanned by a wind that is apparently 
non-existing, had small stones and other articles thrown 
at her, and heard all sorts of queer, unaccountable 
sounds — ^laughs, sighs, and moans. 

Three ghostly incidents have happened to me within 
the past twelve months. The first was in Red Lion 
Square. It was twilight ; I was alone on the top floor 
of the house, and no one else was in the building, saving 
the daughter of the caretaker, who was in the basement. 
Suddenly footsteps, slow, ponderous footsteps, began 
to ascend the stairs — ^which, being uncarpetted and of 
oakf carried the sound — ^from the hall. Wondering who 
. it could be, I called out. There was no reply, and the 
steps drew nearer. On the landing immediately beneath 



L 



^ 



230 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 

me they halted. I went out and looked down. No one 
was to be seen, and the steps immediately began to 
descend. I followed them right down — 9^ few stairs 
behind — ^till they reached the hall, when they abruptly 
ceased. I learned afterwards that these footsteps were 
quite a common phenomenon in the house, which had 
long been haunted by them. 

My second experience occurred in the Moscow Road, 
Bayswater. Feeling a heavy weight on my bed one 
night and wishing to remove it, I put out my hand. It H 

was immediately seized and held in a warm grip. I sat 
up in bed, but could see no one. The hand that clasped 
mine was very soft and small — ^unmistakably that of ^ 
woman. I felt the wrist and forearm, but beyond the 
elbow there was nothing. 

I was rather alarmed at this occurrence at the time, 
as I have a friend who died shortly after experiencing 
a similar phenomenon. In my case, however, the 
lady, whose hand I immediately identified as the hand 
that had clasped mine, and this lady solemnly declared 
that upon the same night — we compared dates — she had 
dreamed of a hand which was the exact counterpart of 
mine, and that, upon shaking hands with me that 
afternoon, she had been instantly reminded of her 
dream. 

That there was nothing in common between us, her 
tastes and outlook on life being absolutely at variance 
with mine, makes the occurrence, in my opinion, none 
the less interesting, though somewhat difficult to account 
for. 

My last experience occurred only a few days ago, as I 
was sitting on the stairs of a haunted house near Ealing. 
I had applied to the landlord for permission to spend 
the night there, and, pending his reply, had obtained 
the keys from the agent, in order to see what the house 
was like by daylight. Having just finished jotting down 
some notes — a memorandum of something I had suddenly 



i 



EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER 231 

thought of — ^I ptiusedy still holding the pencil in my 
hand, whilst my note-book lay open on my knee« I 
had not sat thus 'for more than a minute, when, with a 
thrill of surprise, I felt the pencil suddenly taken from 
my hand, and, looking down, I distinctly saw it, of its 
own accord, scrawl right across my book. Whether 
what I afterwards found written in my note-book was 
written by the spirit that haimted the house, or by a 
projection of one of my own personalities, I cannot 
I say ; neither can I, myself, nor anyone to whom I have 

shown the symbolic writing, tell what it means. The 
appended is a facsimile. 

I might add that this is my one and only experience 
of spirit-writing, and also that it was my one and only 
4 experience in the haunted house near Ealing, as I did 

not succeed in getting leave to spend a night there. 

Although I must confess I have made little progress 
so far in my investigations, for my failure to decipher 
spirit-writing is not the only set-back that I have 
encountered, I still have hopes. I hope that some 
day, when I am brought face to face with the Unknown, 
in a haunted house or elsewhere, I may be able to hit 
upon some mode of communication with it, and discover 
something that may be of real service both to mjrself 
and to the rest of humanity. 

If only I could overcome fear ! 

It is March 28th, midnight, and as I pen these con- 
cluding words, my mind reverts to the symbols and the 
\ date — ^March 28th, twelve o'clock. 

Suddenly I hear footsteps — distant footsteps on the 
road outside — coming in the direction of the house. 

I glance at my wife, wondering whether she hears 
them too. She is asleep, however, and, as I covertly 
watch her, I see a look of terror gradually steal into her 



> 



232 EXPERIENCES AS A GHOST HUNTER i 

face. Clicking steps. They come nearer and nearer. 
They stop for a moment at our door, and then — ^thank 
God — pass slowly on. 

I look out of the window — ^the road is absolutely 
deserted, but from close at hand the sounds are wafted 
to me— click, click, click, fainter, fainter, fainter — ^until 
they abruptly cease. 



I 

i 



THE END. 



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