She was so fearful, too, of attracting the notice of the mysterious
thing that she hardly dare breathe, and each pulsation of her heart
sent cold chills of apprehension down her spine. Once she endured
agonies through a mad desire to sneeze, and once her lips opened to
scream as something suspiciously like the antennæ of a huge beetle,
and which she subsequently discovered was a "devil's coach-horse,"
tickled the calf of her leg. She fancied, too, that all sorts of queer
shapes lurked in the passage behind her, and that innumerable unseen
eyes were malignantly rejoicing in her terror. At last, the climax to
her suspense seemed at hand. The unknown thing, until now too busy
with the clock to take heed of her, paused for a moment or so, as if
undecided what to do next, and then slowly began to veer round. But
the faint echo of a voice below, calling her by name, broke the
hypnotic spell that bound Diana to the floor, and with a frantic
spring she cleared the threshold of the room. She then tore madly
downstairs, never halting till she reached the dining-room, where she
sank on a sofa, and, more dead than alive, panted out to her amazed
sisters a full account of all that had transpired. That night she shared her sister's bedroom, but neither she nor her
sister slept. From this time till the return of Mrs. Gordon, nothing happened. It
was one evening after she came back, when she was preparing to get
into bed, that the door of her own room unexpectedly opened, and she
saw standing, on the threshold, the unmistakable figure of a man,
short and broad, with a great width of shoulders, and very long arms. He was clad in a peajacket, blue serge trousers, and jack-boots. He
had a big, round, brutal head, covered with a tangled mass of yellow
hair, but where his face ought to have been there was only a blotch,
underlying which Mrs. Gordon detected the semblance to something
fiendishly vindictive and immeasurably nasty. But, in spite of the
horror his appearance produced, her curiosity was aroused with regard
to the two objects he carried in his hands, one of which looked like
a very bizarre bundle of red and white rags, and the other a small
bladder of lard. Whilst she was staring at them in dumb awe, he swung
round, and, hitching them savagely under his armpits, rushed across
the landing, and, with a series of apish bounds, sprang up the
staircase and disappeared in the gloom. This was the climax; Mrs. Gordon felt another such encounter would
kill her. So, in spite of the fact that she had taken the flat for a
year, and had only just commenced her tenancy, she packed up her goods
and left the very next day. The report that the building was haunted
spread rapidly, and Mrs. Gordon had many indignant letters from the
landlord. She naturally made inquiries as to the early history of the
house, but of the many tales she listened to, only one, the
authenticity of which she could not guarantee, seemed to suggest any
clue to the haunting. It was said that a retired Captain in the Merchant Service, many years
previously, had rented the rooms she had occupied. He was an extraordinary individual, and, despite the fact that he had
lived so far inland, would never wear any but nautical clothes--blue
jersey and trousers, reefer coat and jack-boots. But this was not his
only peculiarity. His love of grog eventually brought on delirium
tremens, and his excessive irritability in the interval between each
attack was a source of anxiety to all who came in contact with him. At
that time there happened to be a baby in the rooms overhead, whose
crying so annoyed the Captain that he savagely informed its mother
that if she did not keep it quiet, he would not be answerable for the
consequences. His warnings having no effect, he flew upstairs one day,
when she was temporarily absent, and, snatching up the bread knife
from the table, decapitated the infant. He then stuffed both its head
and body into a grandfather's clock which stood in one corner of the
room, and, retiring to his own quarters, drank till he was insensible. He was, of course, arrested on a charge of murder, but being found
"insane" he was committed during His Majesty's pleasure to a lunatic
asylum. He eventually committed suicide by opening an artery in his leg with
one of his finger-nails. As the details of this tragedy filled in so well with the phenomena
they had witnessed, the Gordons could not help regarding the story as
a very probable explanation of the hauntings. But, remember, its
authenticity is dubious. CASE IV

    JANE OF GEORGE STREET, EDINBURGH


"The news that, for several years at any rate, George Street,
Edinburgh, was haunted," wrote a correspondent of mine some short time
ago, "might cause no little surprise to many of its inhabitants." And
my friend proceeded to relate his experience of the haunting, which I
will reproduce as nearly as possible in his own words. I quote from
memory, having foolishly destroyed the letter. *       *       *       *       *

I was walking in a leisurely way along George Street the other day,
towards Strunalls, where I get my cigars, and had arrived opposite No. --, when I suddenly noticed, just ahead of me, a tall lady of
remarkably graceful figure, clad in a costume which, even to an
ignoramus in fashions like myself, seemed extraordinarily out of date. In my untechnical language it consisted of a dark blue coat and
skirt, trimmed with black braid. The coat had a very high collar,
turned over to show a facing of blue velvet, its sleeves were very
full at the shoulders, and a band of blue velvet drew it tightly in at
the waist. Moreover, unlike every other lady I saw, she wore a small
hat, which I subsequently learned was a toque, with one white and one
blue plume placed moderately high at the side. The only other
conspicuous items of her dress, the effect of which was, on the whole,
quiet, were white glacé gloves,--over which dangled gold curb
bracelets with innumerable pendants,--shoes, which were of patent
leather with silver buckles and rather high Louis heels, and fine,
blue silk openwork stockings. So much for her dress. Now for her
herself. She was a strikingly fair woman with very pale yellow hair
and a startlingly white complexion; and this latter peculiarity so
impressed me that I hastened my steps, determining to get a full view
of her. Passing her with rapid strides, I looked back, and as I did so
a cold chill ran through me,--what I looked at was--the face of the
dead. I slowed down and allowed her to take the lead. I now observed that, startling as she was, no one else seemed to
notice her. One or two people obviously, though probably
unconsciously, possessing the germs of psychism, shivered when they
passed her, but as they neither slackened their pace nor turned to
steal a second look, I concluded they had not seen her. Without
glancing either to the right or left, she moved steadily on, past
Molton's the confectioner's, past Perrin's the hatter's.