First of all we
searched the rooms on the floor above, where George and I slept. Everything was just as we had left it. Then I pushed open the door at
the end of the corridor. A crazy-looking staircase led up into darkness. We went cautiously up, I first with a candle, then George, and last of
all the butler with a lantern. At the top we stepped into a big, rather
low room, with beams across the ceiling, and a rough, uneven floor. Our
lights threw strange shadows into the corners, and more than once I
started at what looked like a crouching human figure. We searched every
corner. There was nothing to be seen but a few old boxes, a roll or two
of matting, and some broken chairs. But in the far corner George pointed
out to me a rickety ladder which ended at a closed trap-door. Just then
I distinctly heard the curious, half groaning, half sighing sound which
had already puzzled me in the corridor below. We stood still and looked
at one another. We all heard the sound. “‘Whatever it is, it’s up there,’ I said. ‘The question is, who is going
up?’

“George put his candle down upon the floor and stepped upon the ladder. It cracked beneath his weight. He stopped. “‘Come down; it won’t bear you,’ I said. ‘I shall have to go.’

“I don’t know that I was ever in such a queer funk as I was while I
slowly mounted that ladder, and pushed open the trap-door. I had formed
no clear idea of what I expected to find there. Certainly I was not
prepared for what happened. For no sooner was the trap-door fully open
than there fell--literally fell--upon me from the darkness above a thing
in human shape, which kicked and spat and tore at me as I stood clinging
to the ladder. It lasted but a moment or so, but in that moment I lived
a lifetime of terror. The ladder swayed and cracked beneath me, and I
fell to the floor with the thing gripping my throat like a vise. The
next instant George had stunned it with a blow from the poker and
dragged it off me. It lay upon its back on the floor--a ragged, hideous,
loathsome shape. And the mystery was solved.”

“But you haven’t told us what it really was,” said one of the listeners. The doctor smiled. “It was the owner of the house,” he replied. “He had not gone abroad. He
had gone to a private lunatic asylum with homicidal mania upon him. About a fortnight before this he had managed to escape; and, having made
his way to his former home, had concealed himself, with a cunning often
shown by lunatics, in the loft. I suppose he had found enough to eat in
his nightly rambles about the house. The only wonder is that he didn’t
kill someone before he was caught.”




COLONEL HALIFAX’S GHOST STORY. I had just come back to England, after having been some years in India,
and was looking forward to meet my friends, among whom there was none I
was more anxious to see than Sir Francis Lynton. We had been to Eton
together, and for the short time I had been at Oxford, before entering
the army, we had been at the same college. Then we had parted. He came
into the title and estates of the family in Yorkshire on the death of
his grandfather--his father had predeceased--and I had been over a good
part of the world. One visit, indeed, I had made him in his Yorkshire
home, before leaving for India, of but a few days. It will be easily imagined how pleasant it was, two or three days after
my arrival in London, to receive a letter from Lynton, saying that he
had just seen in the papers that I had arrived, and, begging me to come
down at once to Byfield, his place in Yorkshire. “You are not to tell me,” he said, “that you cannot come. In fact, you
are to come on Monday. I have a couple of horses which will just suit
you; the carriage shall meet you at Packham, and all you have got to do
is to put yourself in the train which leaves Kings Cross at twelve
o’clock.”

Accordingly, on the day appointed, I started, in due time reached
Packham, losing much time on a detestable branch line, and there found
the dog-cart of Sir Francis awaiting me. I drove at once to Byfield. The house I remembered. It was a low gable structure of no great size,
with old-fashioned lattice windows, separated from the park, where were
deer, by a charming terraced garden. No sooner did the wheels crunch the gravel by the principal entrance,
than, almost before the bell was rung, the porch-door opened, and there
stood Lynton himself, whom I had not seen for so many years, hardly
altered, and with all the joy of welcome beaming in his face. Taking me
by both hands, he drew me into the house, got rid of my hat and wraps,
looked me all over, and then, in a breath, began to say how glad he was
to see me, what a real delight it was to have got me at last under his
roof, and what a good time we would have together, like the old days
over again. He had sent my luggage up to my room, which was ready for me, and he
bade me make haste and dress for dinner. So saying he took me through a paneled hall, up an old oak staircase,
and showed me my room, which, hurried as I was, I observed was hung
with tapestry, and had a large four-post bed, with velvet curtains,
opposite the window. They had gone in to dinner when I came down, despite all the haste I
made in dressing; but a place had been kept for me next Lady Lynton. Besides my hosts, there were their two daughters, Colonel Lynton, a
brother of Sir Francis, the chaplain, and some others, whom I do not
remember distinctly. After dinner there was some music in the hall, and a game of whist in
the drawing-room, and after the ladies had gone upstairs, Lynton and I
retired to the smoking-room, where we sat up talking the better part of
the night. I think it must have been near three when I retired. Once in
bed I slept so soundly that my servant’s entrance the next morning
failed to arouse me, and it was past nine when I awoke. After breakfast and the disposal of the newspapers, Lynton retired to
his letters, and I asked Lady Lynton if one of her daughters might show
me the house. Elizabeth, the eldest, was summoned, and seemed in no way
to dislike the task. The house was, as already intimated, by no means large; it occupied
three sides of a square, the entrance and one end of the stables making
the fourth side. The interior was full of interest--passages, rooms,
galleries, as well as hall, were paneled in dark wood and hung with
pictures. I was shown everything on the ground

[Illustration: “_Losing much time on a detestable branch line._”]

floor, and then on the first floor. Then my guide proposed that we
should ascend a narrow, twisting staircase that led to a gallery. We did
as proposed, and entered a handsome long room or passage leading to a
small chamber at one end, in which my guide told me her father kept
books and papers. I asked if anyone slept in this gallery, as I noticed a bed and
fireplace, and rods by means of which curtains might be drawn, enclosing
one portion where were bed and fireplace, so as to convert it into a
very cosy chamber.