The "presence" did not suggest burglars, for
the intruder behaved in the most noisy manner, pacing restlessly and
apparently aimlessly backwards and forwards across the room, swishing
the floor (with what sounded like a long lace train) and breathing
heavily. They were both terrified, and so cold that they could hear
one another's teeth chatter. They were too frightened to call for
help; they could only lie still, hoping and praying it would not come
nearer to them. The sufferings of these two ladies were indescribable,
for the ghost remained in their room all night, moving restlessly
about until daybreak. It was not until some days later, when other
people in the house had experienced the phenomenon, that they were
told the story of the notorious "Pearlin' Jean." But was the so-called "Pearlin' Jean" really the apparition of the
murdered French woman? To my mind, her identity with that of the
beautiful Sister of Charity has not been satisfactorily established,
and I think there are reasons to doubt it. If, for instance, the apparition were that of a Sister of Charity, why
should it appear incongruously attired in a long trailing gown of
lace? And if it were that of a woman of the presumably staid habits of
a Sister of Charity, why should it delight in mischief and play the
pranks of a _poltergeist_? And yet if it wasn't the ghost of Jean,
whose ghost was it? CASE VIII

    THE DRUMMER OF CORTACHY


What ancient Scottish or Irish family has not its Family Ghost? A
banshee--the heritage of Niall of the Nine Hostages--is still the
unenviable possession of his descendants, the O'Donnells, and I, who
am a member of the clan, have both seen and heard it several times. As
it appears to me, it resembles the decapitated head of a prehistoric
woman, and I shall never forget my feelings one night, when, aroused
from slumber by its ghastly wailing, I stumbled frantically out of
bed, and, groping my way upstairs in the dark, without venturing to
look to the left or right lest I should see something horrible, found
every inmate of the house huddled together on the landing, paralysed
with fear. I did not see it on that occasion, but on the following
morning, as I had anticipated, I received the news that a near and
dear relative had died. Possessing such an heirloom myself, I can therefore readily sympathise
with those who own a similar treasure--such, for example, as the
famous, or rather infamous, Drummer of Cortachy Castle, who is
invariably heard beating a tattoo before the death of a member of the
clan of Ogilvie. Mrs. Crowe, in her _Night Side of Nature_, referring to the haunting,
says:--

"Miss D., a relative of the present Lady C., who had been staying some
time with the Earl and Countess at their seat, near Dundee, was
invited to spend a few days at Cortachy Castle, with the Earl and
Countess of Airlie. She went, and whilst she was dressing for dinner
the first evening of her arrival, she heard a strain of music under
her window, which finally resolved itself into a well-defined sound of
a drum. When her maid came upstairs, she made some inquiries about the
drummer that was playing near the house; but the maid knew nothing on
the subject. For the moment the circumstance passed from Miss D.'s
mind, but, recurring to her again during the dinner, she said,
addressing Lord Airlie, 'My lord, who is your drummer?' Upon which his
lordship turned pale, Lady Airlie looked distressed, and several of
the company, who all heard the question, embarrassed; whilst the lady,
perceiving that she had made some unpleasant allusion, although she
knew not to what their feelings referred, forebore further inquiry
till she reached the drawing-room; when, having mentioned the
circumstance again to a member of the family, she was answered, 'What,
have you never heard of the drummer boy?' 'No,' replied Miss D.; 'who
in the world is he?' 'Why,' replied the other, 'he is a person who
goes about the house playing his drum, whenever there is a death
impending in the family. The last time he was heard was shortly before
the death of the last Countess (the Earl's former wife); and that is
why Lord Airlie became so pale when you mentioned it. The drummer boy
is a very unpleasant subject in this family, I assure you.' "Miss D. was naturally much concerned, and indeed not a little
frightened at this explanation, and her alarm being augmented by
hearing the sounds on the following day, she took her departure from
Cortachy Castle, and returned to Lord C.'s, where she related this
strange circumstance to the family, through whom the information
reached me. "This affair was very generally known in the north, and we awaited the
event with interest. The melancholy death of the Countess about five
or six months afterwards, at Brighton, sadly verified the
prognostications. I have heard that a paper was found in her desk
after her death, declaring her conviction that the drum was for her." Mrs. Crowe goes on to explain the origin of the phenomenon. According
to legend, she says, there was once at Cortachy a drummer, who,
incurring the jealousy of the then Lord Airlie, was thrust into his
own drum and flung from a window of the tower (in which, by the way,
Miss D. slept). Before being put to death thus, the drummer is stated
to have said he would for ever after haunt the Airlie family--a threat
he has obviously been permitted to fulfil. During one of my visits to Scotland, I stayed some days in Forfarshire
not far from Cortachy. Among the visitors at my hotel was a very old
gentleman of the name of Porter, who informed me that, when a boy, he
used to visit some relatives who, at that time, lived within easy
walking distance of Cortachy. One of these relatives was a lad of
about fourteen, named Alec, with whom he had always been the closest
of friends. The recollection of their many adventures evidently
afforded Mr. Porter infinite amusement, and one of these adventures,
in particular, he told me, was as fresh in his mind as if it had
happened yesterday. "Looking back upon it now," he said, with a far-away look in his eyes,
"it certainly was a strange coincidence, and if you are interested in
the hauntings of Cortachy, Mr. O'Donnell, you may, perhaps, like to
hear the account of my ghostly experiences in that neighbourhood." Of course I replied that nothing would give me greater pleasure, and
Mr. Porter forthwith began his story. "One misty night in October, my friend Alec and I, both being keen on
rabbiting, determined to visit a spinney adjoining the Cortachy
estate, in pursuit of our quarry. Alec had chosen this particular
night, thinking, under cover of the mist, to escape the vigilance of
the keepers, who had more than once threatened to take him before the
laird for trespassing. "To gain access to the spinney we had to climb a granite wall and drop
on the other side--the drop, in addition to being steep, being
rendered all the more precarious by reason of the man-traps the
keepers were in the habit of setting.