I will quote from my diary:--

"_Monday, October 11th_.--Dick--that is my brother-in-law--and I, at 11
p.m., were sitting smoking and chatting together in the study. All the
rest of the household had gone to bed. We had no light in the room--as
Dick had a headache--save the fire, and that had burned so low that its
feeble glimmering scarcely enabled us to see each other's face. After a
space of sudden and thoughtful silence, Dick took the stump of a cigar
from his lips and threw it in the grate, where for a few moments it lay
glowing in the gloom. "'Jack,' he said, 'you will think me mad, but there is something deuced
queer about this room to-night--something in the atmosphere I cannot
define, but which I have never felt here--or indeed anywhere--before. Look at that cigar-end--look!' "I did so, and received a shock. What I saw was certainly not the stump
Dick had had in his mouth, but an eye--a large, red and lurid eye--that
looked up at us with an expression of the utmost hate. "Dick raised the shovel and struck at it, but without effect--it still
glared at us. A great horror then seized us, and unable to remove our
gaze from the hellish thing, we sat glued to our chairs staring at it. This state of affairs lasted till the clock in the hall outside struck
twelve, when the eye suddenly vanished, and we both felt as if some
intensely evil influence had been suddenly removed. "Dick did not like the idea of sleeping alone, and asked if he might
keep the electric light on in his room all night. Tremendous
extravagance, but under the circumstances excusable. I confess I
devoutly wished it was morning. "_Tuesday, October 12th._--I was awakened at 11.30 p.m. by Delia saying
to me, 'Oh, Edward, there have been such dreadful noises on the landing,
just as if a cat were being worried to death by dogs. Hark! there it is
again.' And as she spoke, from apparently just outside the door, came a
series of loud screeches, accompanied by savage growls and snarls. "Not knowing what to make of it, as we had no animals of our own in the
house, but concluding that a door or window having been left open, a dog
and cat had got in from outside, I lit a candle, and opened the bedroom
door. Instantly the sounds ceased and there was dead silence, and
although I searched everywhere, not a vestige of any animal was to be
seen. Moreover all the doors leading into the garden were shut and
locked, and the windows closed. Not wishing to frighten Delia, I
laughingly assured her the cat--a black Tom--was all right, that it was
sitting on the roof of the summer-house, looking none the worse for its
treatment, and that I had sent the dog--a terrier--flying out of the
gate with a well-deserved kick. I explained it was my fault about the
front door being left open--my brain had been a bit overstrained through
excessive work--and asked her on no account to blame the servants. I
grow alarmed at times when I realize how easy lawyering makes lying. "_Friday, October 21st._--On my way to bed last night I encountered a
rush of icy cold air at the first bend of the staircase. The candle
flared up, a bright blue flame, and went out. Something--an animal of
sorts--came tearing down the stairs past me, and on peering over the
banisters, I saw, looking up at me from the well of darkness beneath,
two big red eyes, the counterparts of the one Dick and I had seen on
October 11th. I threw a matchbox at them, but without effect. It was
only when I switched on the electric light that they disappeared. I
searched the house most carefully, but there were no signs of any
animal. Joined Delia, feeling nervous and henpecky. "_Monday, November 7th._--Tom and Mable came running into Delia's room
in a great state of excitement after tea to-day. 'Mother!' they cried,
'Mother! Do come! Some horrid dog has got a cat in the spare room and is
tearing it to pieces.' Delia, who was mending my socks at the time,
flung them anywhere, and springing to her feet, flew to the spare room. The door was shut, but proceeding from within was the most appalling
pandemonium of screeches and snarls, just as if some dog had got hold of
a cat by the neck and was shaking it to death. Delia swung open the door
and rushed in. The room was empty--not a trace of a cat or dog
anywhere--and the sounds ceased! On my return home Delia met me in the
garden. 'Jack!' she said, 'I have probed the mystery at last. The house
is haunted! We must leave.' "_Saturday, November 12th._--Sublet house to James Barstow, retired oil
merchant, to-day. He comes in on the 30th. Hope he'll like it! "_Tuesday, November 15th._--Cook left to-day. 'I've no fault to find
with you, mum,' she condescendingly explained to Delia. 'It's not you,
nor the children, nor the food. It's the noises at night--screeches
outside my door, which sound like a cat, but which I know can't be a
cat, as there is no cat in the house. This morning, mum, shortly after
the clock struck two, things came to a climax. Hearing something in the
corner and wondering if it was a mouse--I ain't a bit afraid of mice,
mum--I sat up in bed and was getting ready to strike a light--the
matchbox was in my hand--when something heavy sprang right on the top of
me and gave a loud growl in my ear. That finished me, mum--I fainted. When I came to myself, I was too frightened to stir, but lay with my
head under the blankets till it was time to get up. I then searched
everywhere, but there was no sign of any dog, and as the door was locked
there was no possibility of any dog having got in during the night. Mum,
I wouldn't go through what I suffered again for fifty pounds; I've got
palpitations even now; and I would rather go without my month's wages
than sleep in that room another night.' Delia paid her up to date, and
she went directly after tea. "_Friday, November 18th._--As I was coming out of the bathroom at 11
p.m. something fell into the bath with a loud splash. I turned to see
what it was--there was nothing there. I ran up the stairs to bed, three
steps at a time! "_Sunday, November 20th._--Went to church in the morning and heard the
usual Oxford drawl. On the way back I was pondering over the sermon and
wishing I could contort the Law as successfully as parsons contort the
Scriptures, when Dot--she is six to-day--came running up to me with a
very scared expression in her eyes. 'Father,' she cried, plucking me by
the sleeve, 'do hurry up. Mother is very ill.' Full of dreadful
anticipations, I tore home, and on arriving found Delia lying on the
sofa in a violent fit of hysterics. It was fully an hour before she
recovered sufficiently to tell me what had happened. Her account runs
thus:--

"'After you went to church,' she began, 'I made the custard pudding,
jelly and blancmange for dinner, heard the children their collects, and
had just sat down with the intention of writing a letter to mother, when
I heard a very pathetic mew coming, so I thought, from under the sofa.