I blew, and blew, and
blew, but it hadn't any effect, and then I grew afraid, miss, horribly
afraid," and here she buried her face in her hands, and shuddered. "I've never been frightened like this before, miss," she returned
slowly, "and I've come away and left the candle burning." "How absurd of you," Margaret scolded. "We must go and put it out at
once. I have a good mind to make you come with us, Mary--but there! Stay where you are, and for goodness' sake stop crying, or every one
in the house will hear you." So saying, Margaret hurried off,--Alice and I accompanying her,--and
on arriving outside my room, the door of which was wide open, we
perceived the lighted candle standing in the position Mary had
described. I looked at the girls, and perceived, in spite of my
endeavours not to perceive it, the unmistakable signs of a great
fear--fear of something they suspected but dared not name--lurking in
the corners of their eyes. "Who will go first?" Margaret demanded. No one spoke. "Well then," she continued, "I will," and, suiting the action to the
word, she stepped over the threshold. The moment she did so, the door
began to close. "This is curious!" she cried. "Push!" We did; we all three pushed; but, despite our efforts, the door came
resolutely to, and we were shut out. Then before we had time to
recover from our astonishment, it flew open; but before we could cross
the threshold, it came violently to in the same manner as before. Some
unseen force held it against us. "Let us make one more effort," Margaret said, "and if we don't
succeed, we will call for help." Obeying her instructions, we once again pushed. I was nearest the
handle, and in some manner,--how, none of us could ever explain,--just
as the door opened of its own accord, I slipped and fell inside. The
door then closed immediately with a bang, and, to my unmitigated
horror, I found myself alone in the room. For some seconds I was
spellbound, and could not even collect my thoughts sufficiently to
frame a reply to the piteous entreaties of the Holkitts, who kept
banging on the door, and imploring me to tell them what was happening. Never in the hideous excitement of nightmare had I experienced such a
terror as the terror that room conveyed to my mind. Though nothing was
to be seen, nothing but the candle, the light of which was peculiarly
white and vibrating, I felt the presence of something inexpressibly
menacing and horrible. It was in the light, the atmosphere, the
furniture, everywhere. On all sides it surrounded me, on all sides I
was threatened--threatened in a manner that was strange and deadly. Something suggesting to me that the source of evil originated in the
candle, and that if I could succeed in extinguishing the light I
should free myself from the ghostly presence, I advanced towards the
mantelpiece, and, drawing in a deep breath, blew--blew with the
energy born of desperation. It had no effect. I repeated my efforts; I
blew frantically, madly, but all to no purpose; the candle still
burned--burned softly and mockingly. Then a fearful terror seized me,
and, flying to the opposite side of the room, I buried my face against
the wall, and waited for what the sickly beatings of my heart warned
me was coming. Constrained to look, I slightly, only very, very
slightly, moved round, and there, there, floating stealthily towards
me through the air, came the candle, the vibrating, glowing, baleful
candle. I hid my face again, and prayed God to let me faint. Nearer
and nearer drew the light; wilder and wilder the wrenches at the door. Closer and closer I pressed myself to the wall. And then, then when
the final throes of agony were more than human heart and brain could
stand, there came the suspicion, the suggestion of a touch--of a touch
so horrid that my prayers were at last answered, and I fainted. When I
recovered, I was in Margaret's room, and half a dozen well-known forms
were gathered round me. It appears that with the collapse of my body
on the floor, the door, that had so effectually resisted every effort
to turn the handle, immediately flew open, and I was discovered lying
on the ground with the candle--still alight--on the ground beside me. My aunt experienced no difficulty in blowing out the refractory
candle, and I was carried with the greatest tenderness into the other
wing of the house, where I slept that night. Little was said about the
incident next day, but all who knew of it expressed in their faces the
utmost anxiety--an anxiety which, now that I had recovered, greatly
puzzled me. On our return home, another shock awaited me; we found to
our dismay that my mother was seriously ill, and that the doctor, who
had been sent for from Perth the previous evening, just about the time
of my adventure with the candle, had stated that she might not survive
the day. His warning was fulfilled--she died at sunset. Her death, of
course, may have had nothing at all to do with the candle episode, yet
it struck me then as an odd coincidence, and seems all the more
strange to me after hearing your account of the bogle that touched
your dear father in the road, so near the spot where the Holkitts'
house once stood. I could never discover whether Lady Holkitt or her
daughters ever saw anything of a superphysical nature in their house;
after my experience they were always very reticent on that subject,
and naturally I did not like to press it. On Lady Holkitt's death,
Margaret and Alice sold the house, which was eventually pulled down,
as no one would live in it, and I believe the ground on which it stood
is now a turnip field. That, my dear, is all I can tell you. *       *       *       *       *

"Now, Mr. O'Donnell," Miss Macdonald added, "having heard our
experiences, my mother's and mine, what is your opinion? Do you think
the phenomenon of the candle was in any way connected with the bogle
both you and I have seen, or are the hauntings of 'The Old White
House' entirely separate from those of the road?" CASE II

    THE TOP ATTIC IN PRINGLE'S MANSION, EDINBURGH


A charming lady, Miss South, informs me that no house interested her
more, as a child, than Pringle's Mansion, Edinburgh. Pringle's
Mansion, by the bye, is not the real name of the house, nor is the
original building still standing--the fact is, my friend has been
obliged to disguise the locality for fear of an action for slander of
title, such as happened in the Egham Case of 1904-7. Miss South never saw--save in a picture--the house that so fascinated
her; but through repeatedly hearing about it from her old nurse, she
felt that she knew it by heart, and used to amuse herself hour after
hour in the nursery, drawing diagrams of the rooms and passages,
which, to make quite realistic, she named and numbered. There was the Admiral's room, Madame's room, Miss Ophelia's room,
Master Gregory's room, Letty's (the nurse's) room, the cook's room,
the butler's room, the housemaid's room--and--the Haunted Room.