 The Phantom Coach by Amelia B. Edwards. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Harman Busby. The Phantom Coach by Amelia B. Edwards. The circumstances I am about to relate to you have truth to recommend them. They happen to myself, and my recollection of them is vivid as if they had taken place only yesterday. Twenty years ago, however, have gone by since that night. During those twenty years, I have told the story to but one other person. I tell it now with a reluctance, which I find it difficult to overcome. All I entreat, meanwhile, is that you will abstain from forcing your own conclusions upon me. I want nothing explained away. I desire no arguments. My mind on this subject is quite made up, and having the testimony of my own senses to rely upon, I prefer to abide by it. Well, it was just twenty years ago, and within a day or two of the end of the grouse season, I had been out all day with my gun, and had had no sport to speak of. The wind was due east, the month December, the place a bleak wide moor in the far north of England, and I had lost my way. It was not a pleasant place in which to lose one's way, with the first feathery flakes of a coming snowstorm just fluttering down upon the heather, and the leaden evening closing in all around. I shaded my eyes with my hand, and stared anxiously into the gathering darkness, where the purple moorland melted into a range of low hills, some ten or twelve miles distant. Not the faintest smoke wreath, not the tiniest cultivated patch, or fence, or sheep-track met my eyes in any direction. There was nothing for it but to move on, and take my chance of finding what shelter I could, by the way. So I shouldered my gun again, and pushed wearily forward, for I had been on foot since an hour after daybreak, and had eaten nothing since breakfast. Meanwhile, the snow began to come down with ominous steadiness, and the wind fell. After this, the cold became more intense, and the night came rapidly up. As for me, my prospects darkened with the darkening sky, and my heart grew heavy, as I thought how my young wife was already watching for me through the window of our little in-parmer, and thought of all the suffering at store for her throughout this weary night. We had been married four months, and, having spent out autumn in the highlands, were now lodging in a remote little village situated just on the verge of the great English moorlands. We were very much in love, and of course very happy. This morning, when we parted, she had implored me to return before dusk, and I had promised her that I would. What would I not have given to have kept my word? Even now, weary as I was, I felt that, with a supper, an hour's rest, and a guide, I might still get back to her before midnight, if only guide and shelter could be found. And all this time the snow fell, and the night thickened. I stopped and shouted every now and then, but my shout seemed only to make the silence deeper. Then a vague sense of uneasiness came upon me, and I began to remember stories of travelers who had walked on and on in the falling snow until, wearied out, they were feigned to lie down and sleep their lives away. Would it be possible, I asked myself, to keep on thus through all the long dark night? Would there not come a time when my limbs must fail, and my resolution give way? When I, too, must sleep the sleep of death? Death, I shuddered. How hard to die just now, when life lay also bright before me? How hard for my darling, whose whole loving heart, but that thought was not to be born? To banish it, I shouted again, and again the echo followed. Then a wavering speck of light came suddenly out of the dark, shifting, disappearing, growing momentarily nearer and brighter. Running towards it at full speed, I found myself, to my great joy, face-to-face with an old man and a lantern. Thank God! was the exclamation that burst involuntarily from my lips. Blinking and frowning, he lifted his lantern and peered into my face. What for, growled he locally? Well, for you, I began to fear I should be lost in the snow. Eh, then, folks do get cast away hereabouts for a time to time, and what's to hinder you from being cast away likewise, if the Lord so minded? If the Lord is so minded that you and I shall be lost together, my friend, we must submit, I replied. But I don't mean to be lost without you. How far am I now from dwolding? A good twenty mile, more or less. And the nearest village? The nearest village is Wike, and that's twelve miles to other side. Where do you live, then? Out yonder, said he, with a vague jerk of the lantern. You're going home, I presume? Maybe I am. Then I'm going with you. The old man shook his head and rubbed his nose reflectively with the handle of the lantern. It ain't no use, growled he. He'll let you in, not he. We'll see about that, I replied briskly. Who is he? The Master. Who is the Master? That's not to you, was the unceremonious reply. Well, well, you lead the way, and I'll engage that the Master shall give me shelter and a supper tonight. Eh, you can try him, muttered my reluctant guide, and still shaking his head he hobbled, gnome-like, away through the falling snow. A large mass loomed up presently out of the darkness, and a huge dog rushed out, barking furiously. Is this the house, I asked? Aye, it's the house, down-bay. And he fumbled in his pocket for the key. I drew up close behind him, prepared to lose no chance of entrance, and saw in the little circle of light shed by the lantern that the door was heavily studded with iron nails like the door of a prison. In another minute he had turned the key and I had pushed past him into the house. Once inside I looked around with curiosity and found myself in a great raftered hall, which served apparently a variety of uses. One end was piled to the roof with corn like a barn. The other was stored with four sacks, agricultural implements, casks, and all kinds of miscellaneous lumber, while from the beams overhead hung rows of hams, flitches, and bunches of dried herbs for winter use. In the center of the floor stood some huge object gauntly dressed in a dingy wrapping doth, and reaching halfway to the rafters. Lifting a corner of this cloth I saw, to my surprise, a telescope of very considerable size, mounted on a rude, movable platform with four small wheels. The tube was made of painted wood, bound round with bands of metal rudely fashioned. The speculums, so far as I could estimate its size in the dim light, measured at least 15 inches in diameter. While I was yet examining the instrument and asking myself whether it was not the work of some self-taught optician, a bell rang sharply. That's for you, said my guide, with a malicious grin, yonder's his room. He pointed to a low black door at the opposite side of the hall. I crossed over, wrapped somewhat loudly, and went in without waiting for an invitation. A huge, white-haired old man rose from a table, covered with books and papers, and confronted me sternly. Who are you, said he? How came you here? What do you want? James Murray barrister at law, on foot across the moor, meat, drink, and sleep. He bent his bushy brows into a portentous frown. Mine is not a house of entertainment, he said, hodlily. Jacob, how dare you admit this stranger? I didn't admit him, grumbled the old man. He followed me over the mirror, and shouldered his way in before me. I have no match for six foot two. And pray, sir, by what right have you forced an entrance into my house? The same by which I should have clung to your boat if I were drowning. The right of self-preservation. Self-preservation? There's an inch of snow on the ground already, I replied briefly, and it would be deep enough to cover my body before daybreak. He strode to the window, pulled aside a heavy black curtain, and looked out. It is true, he said. You can stay if you choose till morning. Jacob served the supper. With this he waved me to a seat, resumed his own, and became at once absorbed in the studies from which I had disturbed him. I placed my gun in a corner, drew a chair to the hearth, and examined my quarters at leisure, smaller and less incongruous in its arrangements than the hall. This room contained, nevertheless, much to awaken my curiosity. The floor was carpetless. The whitewashed walls were in parts scrawled over with strange diagrams, and in others covered with shelves crowded with philosophical instruments, the uses of many of which were unknown to me. On one side of the fireplace stood a bookcase filled with dingy folios. On the other, a small organ, fantastically decorated with painted carvings of medieval saints and devils. Through the half-open door of a cupboard at the further end of the room I saw a long array of geological specimens, surgical preparations, crucibles, retorts, and jars of chemicals. While on the mantel shelf beside me, amid a number of small objects stood a model of the solar system, a small galvanic battery, and a microscope. Every chair had its burden. Every corner was heaped high with books. The very floor was littered over with maps, casts, papers, casings, and learned lumber of all conceivable kinds. I stared about me with an amazement increased by every fresh object upon which my eyes chanced to rest. So strange a room I had never seen, yet seemed it stranger still to find such a room in a lone farmhouse amid those wild and solitary moors. Over and over again I looked from my host to his surroundings, and from his surroundings back to his house, asking myself who and what he could be. His head was singularly fine, but it was more the head of a poet than of a philosopher. Broadened the temples, prominent over the eyes, and clothed with a rough profusion of perfectly white hair, it had all the ideality and much of the ruggedness that characterizes the head of Louis von Beethoven. There were the same deep lines in the same stern furrows in the brow. There was the same concentration of expression while I was yet observing him. The door opened, and Jacob brought in the supper. His master then closed his book, rose and with more courtesy of manner than he had yet shown, invited me to the table. A dish of ham and eggs, a loaf of brown bread, and a bottle of admirable sherry were placed before me. I have but the homeliest farmhouse fare to offer you, sir, said my entertainer. Your appetite, I trust, will make up for the deficiencies of our larder. I had already fallen upon the vians and now protested with the enthusiasm of a starving sportsman that I had never eaten anything so delicious. He bowed stiffly and sat down to his own supper, which consisted, primitively, of a jug of milk and a basin of rice. We ate in silence, and when we had done, Jacob removed the tray. I then drew my chair back to the fireside. My host, somewhat to my surprise, did the same and turning abruptly towards me said, sir, I have lived here in strict retirement for three and twenty years. During that time I have not seen as many strange faces, and I have not read a single newspaper. You are the first stranger who has crossed my threshold for more than four years. Will you favor me with a few words of information respecting that outer world from which I have parted company so long? Pray interrogate me, I replied. I am heartily at your service. He bent his head in acknowledgement, leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin supported in the palms of his hands, stared fixedly into the fire and proceeded to question me. His inquiries related chiefly to scientific matters with the later progress of which, as applied to the practical purposes of life, he was almost wholly unacquainted. No student of science myself, I replied as well as my slight information permitted. But the task was far from easy, and I was much relieved when, passing from interrogation to discussion, he began pouring forth his own conclusions upon the facts which I had been attempting to place before him. He talked and I listened spellbound. He talked till I believe he almost forgot my presence and only thought allowed. I had never heard anything like it then. I have never heard anything like it since. Familiar with all systems of all philosophies, subtle in analysis, bold in generalization, he poured forth his thoughts in an uninterrupted stream and still leaning forward in the same moody attitude with his eyes fixed upon the fire, wandered from topic to topic from speculation to speculation like an inspired dreamer. From practical science to mental philosophy, from electricity in the wire to electricity in the nerve, from Watts to Mesmer, from Reichenbach to Swedenborg, Spinoza, Kondalak, Descartes, Berkeley, Aristotle, Plato, and the Magi and Mystics of the East were transitions which, however bewildering in their variety and scope, seemed easy and harmonious upon his lips as sequences in music. By and by, I forget now by what link of conjecture or illustration. He passed on to that field the boundary line or even conjectural philosophy and reaches no man knows wither. He spoke of the soul and its aspirations, of the spirit and its powers, of second sight, of prophecy, of those phenomena which, under the names of ghosts, specters and supernatural appearances have been denied by the skeptics and attested by the credulous of all ages. The world, he said, will be more and more skeptical of all that lies beyond its own narrow radius, and our men of science foster the fatal tendency. They condemn as fable all that resists an experiment. They reject as false all that cannot be brought to the test of the laboratory or the dissecting room. Against what superstition have they waged so long in obstinate war and yet, what superstition has maintained its hold upon the minds of men so long and so firmly? Show me any fact in physics, in history, in archaeology which is supported by testimony so wide and so various, attested by all races of men in all ages and in all climates by the sobrous sages of antiquity, by the rudest savage of today, by the Christian, the pagan, the pantheist, the materialist. This phenomenon is treated as a nursery tale by the philosophers of our century. Circumstantial evidence weighs with them as a feather in the balance. The comparison of causes with effects, however valuable in physical science, is put aside as worthless and unreliable. The evidence of competent witnesses, however conclusive in a court of justice, counts for nothing. He who pauses before he pronounces is condemned as a trifler. He who believes is a dreamer or a fool. He spoke with bitterness, and having said thus, relapsed for some minutes into silence. Presently he raised his head from his hands and added with an altered voice and manner. I, sir, paused, investigated, believed, and was not ashamed to state my convictions to the world. I, too, was branded as a visionary, held up to ridicule by my contemporaries, and hooted from that field of science in which I had labored with honor during all the best years of my life. These things happened just three and twenty years ago. Since then I have lived as you see me living now, and the world has forgotten me, as I have forgotten the world. You have my history. It is a very sad one, I murmured, honestly knowing what to answer. It is a very common one, he replied. I have only suffered for the truth, as many a better and wiser man has suffered before me. He rose as if desirous of ending the conversation and went over to the window. It has ceased snowing, he observed, as he dropped the curtain and came back to the fireside. Seized, I exclaimed, starting eagerly to my feet. Oh, if it were only possible, but no, it is hopeless. Even if I could find my way across the moor, I could not walk twenty miles tonight. Walk twenty miles tonight, repeated my host, what are you thinking of? Of my wife, I replied impatiently. Of my young wife who does not know that I have lost my way and who is at this moment breaking her heart with suspense and terror. Where is she? At Dwalding, twenty miles away. At Dwalding, he echoed thoughtfully. Yes, the distance it is true is twenty miles, but are you so very anxious to save the next six or eight hours? So very, very anxious, that I would give ten guineas at this moment for a guide and a horse. Your wish can be gratified at a less costly rate, said he smiling. The night mail from the north which changes horses at Dwalding passes within five miles of this spot and will be due at a certain crossroad in about an hour and a quarter. If Jacob were to go with you across the moor and put you into the old coach road, you could find your way I suppose to where it joins the new one easily, gladly. He smiled again, rang the bell, gave the old servant his directions and taking a bottle of whiskey and a wine glass from the cupboard in which he kept his chemical said, the snow lies deep and it will be difficult walking tonight on the moor. A glass of uskabal before you start? I would have declined the spirit, but he pressed it on me and I drank it. It went down my throat like liquid flame and almost took my breath away. It is strong, he said, but it will help to keep out the cold and now you have no moments to bear. Good night. I thanked him for his hospitality and would have shaken hands but that he had turned away before I could finish my sentence. In another minute I had traversed the hall, Jacob had locked the outer door behind me and we were out on the wide white moor. Although the wind had fallen, it was still bitterly cold, not a star glimmered in the black vault overhead, not a sound gave the rapid crunching of the snow beneath our feet disturbed the heavy stillness of the night. Jacob, not too well pleased with his mission, shambled on before in sullen silence his lantern in his hand and his shadow at his feet. I followed with my gun over my shoulder as little inclined for conversation as himself. My thoughts were full of my late host, his voice yet rang in my ears, his eloquence yet held my imagination captive. I remember to this day with surprise how my over-excited brain retained whole sentences and parts of sentences troops of brilliant images and fragments of splendid reasoning in the very words in which he had uttered them. Musing thus over what I had heard and striving to recall a lost link here and there I strode on at the heal of my guide, absorbed and unobservant presently at the end as it seemed to me of only a few minutes he came to a sudden halt and said yon's your road keep the stone fence to your right hand and you can't fail of the way. This then is the old coach road I tis the old coach road and how far do I go before I reach the crossroads nigh upon three mile I pulled out my purse and he became more communicative the road's a fair road enough said he for foot passengers but was over steep and narrow for the northern traffic you'll mind where the parpet's broken away close again the signpost it's never been mended since the accident what accident eh the night mail pitched right over into the valley below a good fifty feet and more just at the worst bit of road in the whole county horrible were many lives lost all four were found dead and to other two died next morning how long is it since this happened just nine year near the signpost you say I will bear it in mind good night good night sit and thank you Jacob pocketed his half crown made a faint pretense of touching his hat and trudged back by the way he had come I watched the fight of his lantern till it quite disappeared and then turned to pursue my way alone this was no longer matter of the slightest difficulty for despite the dead darkness overhead the line of stone fence showed distinctly enough against the pale gleam of the snow how silent it seemed now with only my footsteps to listen to how silent and how solitary a strange disagreeable sense of loneliness stole over me I walked faster I hummed a fragment of a tune I cast up enormous sums in my head and accumulated them at compound interest I did best in short to forget the startling speculations to which I had but just been listening and to some extent I succeeded meanwhile the night air seemed to become colder and though I walked fast I found it impossible to keep myself warm my feet were like ice I lost sensation in my hands and grasped my gun mechanically I even breathed with difficulty as though instead of traversing a quiet north country highway I were scaling the uppermost heights of some gigantic out this last symptom became presently so distressing that I was forced to stop for a few minutes to the stone fence as I did so I chanced to look back up the road and there to my infinite relief I saw a distant point of light like the gleam of an approaching lantern I at first concluded that Jacob had retraced his steps and followed me but even as the conjecture presented itself a second light flashed into sight a light evidently parallel with the first and approaching at the same rate of motion it needed no second thought to show me that these must be the carriage lamps of some private vehicle though it seems strange that any private vehicle should take a road professedly disused and dangerous there could be no doubt however of the fact for the lamps grew larger and brighter every moment and I even fancied I could already see the dark outline of the carriage between them it was coming up very fast and quite noiselessly the snow being nearly a foot deep under the wheels and now the body of the vehicle became distinctly visible behind the lamps it looked strangely lofty a sudden suspicion flashed upon me was it possible that I had passed the crossroads in the dark without observing the signpost and could this be the very coach which I had come to meet no need to ask myself that question a second time for here it came round the bend of the road guard and driver one outside passenger and four steaming grays all wrapped in a soft haze of light through which the lamps blazed out like a pair of fiery meteors I jumped forward waved my hat and shouted the mail came down at full speed and passed me for a moment I feared that I had not been seen or heard but it was only for a moment the coachman pulled up the guard muffled to the eyes of the passengers and apparently sound asleep in the rumble neither answered my hail nor made the slightest effort to dismount the outside passenger did not even turn his head I opened the door for myself and looked in there were but three travelers inside so I stepped in shut the door, slipped into the vacant corner and congratulated myself of my good fortune the atmosphere of the coach seemed if possible the outer air and was pervaded by a singularly damp and disagreeable smell I looked around at my fellow passengers they were all three men and all silent they did not seem to be asleep but each leaned back in his corner of the vehicle as if absorbed in his own reflections I attempted to open a conversation how intensely cold it is tonight I said addressing my opposite neighbor he lifted his head looked at me but made no reply the winter I added seems to have begun in earnest although the corner in which he sat was so dim that I could distinguish none of his features very clearly I saw that his eyes were still turned full upon me and yet he answered never a word at any other time I should have felt and perhaps expressed some annoyance but at the moment I felt too ill to do either the icy coldness of the night air had struck a chill to my very marrow and the strange smell inside the coach was affecting me with an intolerable nausea I shivered from head to foot and turning to my left hand neighbor asked if he had any objection to an open window he neither spoke nor stirred I repeated the question somewhat more loudly but with the same result then I lost my patience and let the sash down as I did so the leather strap broke in my hand and I observed that the glass was covered with a thick coat of mildew the accumulation apparently of years my attention being thus drawn to the condition of the coach I examined it more narrowly and saw by the uncertain light of the outer lamps that it was in the last state of dilapidation every part of it was not only out of repair but in a condition of decay the sashes splintered at a touch the leather fittings were crusted over with mold and literally rotting from the woodwork the floor was almost breaking away beneath my feet the whole machine in short was foul with damp and had evidently been dragged from some outhouse in which it had been moldering away for years to do another day or two of duty on the road I turned to the third passenger whom I had not yet addressed and hazarded one more remark this coach I said is in deplorable condition the regular mail I suppose is under repair he moved his head slowly and looked me in the face without speaking a word I shall never forget that look while I live I turned cold at heart under it I turned cold at heart even now when I recall it his eyes glowed with a fiery unnatural luster his face was livid as the face of a corpse his bloodless lips were drawn back as if in the agony of death and showed the gleaming teeth between the words that I was about to utter died upon my lips and a strange horror a dreadful horror came upon me my sight had by this time become used to the gloom of the coach and I could see with tolerable distinctness I turned to my opposite neighbor he too was looking at me with the same startling pallor in his face and the same unique litter in his eyes I passed my hand across my brow I turned to the passenger on the seat beside my own and saw oh heaven, how shall I describe what I saw I saw that he was no living man that none of them were living men like myself a pale, phosphorescent light the light of putrefaction played upon their awful faces upon their hair dank with the do's of the grave upon their clothes earth-stained dropping to pieces upon their hands which were as the hands of corpses long buried only their eyes, their terrible eyes were living and those eyes were all turned menacingly upon me a shriek of terror, a wild unintelligible cry for help and mercy burst from my lips as I flung myself against the door and strove in vain to open it in that single instant, brief and vivid as a landscape beheld in the flash I saw the moon shining down through a rift of stormy cloud the ghastly signpost rearing its warning finger by the wayside the broken parapet the plunging horses, the black gulf below then the coach reeled like a ship at sea then came a mighty crash, a sense of crushing pain and then darkness it seemed as if years had gone by when I awoke one morning from a deep sleep and found my wife watching my bedside I will pass over the scene that ensued and give you in half a dozen words the tale she told me with tears of thanksgiving I had fallen over a precipice close against the junction of the old coach road and the new and had only been saved from certain death by lighting upon a deep snowdrift that accumulated at the foot of the rock beneath in this snowdrift I was discovered at daybreak by a couple of shepherds they carried me to the nearest shelter and brought a surgeon to my aid the surgeon found me in a state of raving delirium with a broken arm and a compound fracture of the skull the letters in my pocketbook showed my name and address my wife was summoned to nurse me and thanks to youth and a fine constitution I came out of danger at last the place of my fall I need scarcely say was precisely that at which a frightful accident had happened to the north mail nine years before I never told my wife the fearful events which I have just related to you I told the surgeon who attended me but he treated the whole adventure as a mere dream born of the fever in my brain we discussed the question over and over again until we found that we could discuss it with temper no longer and then we dropped it others may form what conclusions they please that twenty years ago I was the fourth inside passenger in that phantom coach end of the phantom coach recording by Harman Busby the tap by Arthur Edwards Chapman this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Colleen McMahon the tap by Arthur Edwards Chapman mentally I cursed the tap if I had risen once to turn it off I had risen half a dozen times during the last quarter of an hour and still the disconcerting drip drip drip continued this was my first night in the new flat and after Mrs. Biggs who came in to do the cleaning and prepare my meals had wished me good night I had settled down to run off a short article which I had promised to deliver by morning the words had flowed from my pen with scarcely an effort and probably for this very reason the incident stands out in my memory more vividly than what otherwise have been the case I recollect that I had paused my writing to consider more deeply a certain point in my article glancing up at the clock I had noticed the hands indicating a quarter to eleven and as I took up my pen afresh I heard that drip drip drip of the tap in the bathroom for a few minutes I paid no attention to the sound and continued writing but presently it became so loud and insistent that I found myself counting the drops unconsciously drip drip drip a loose washer I said to myself I'll get a plumber tomorrow rising I proceeded to the bathroom and turned the tap off so far as I was able then I went back to my desk but barely had I picked up my pen then the sound recommenced drip drip drip I tried to ignore it but without success the very quietness of the building seemed to intensify the noise until to listen to it became painful I must have gone at least four times to try and screw the confounded thing off and as surely as I returned to my chair believing I had fixed it just as surely would that dripping begin anew with an exclamation of annoyance I rose to my feet once more and then suddenly I became aware that the drip drip drip was changing slowly gradually to a full rush of water as though someone were turning on the tap to its fullest extent in surprise I hurried to the bathroom and as I approached the door I heard the little window blow open with a loud bang and a great gust of air infolded me air of so icy a coldness that I shivered involuntarily grumbling at the carelessness of Mrs. Biggs and leaving the window unfastened I closed it hastily and made it secure shooting home the tiny bolt that a previous tenant had for some reason placed on the bottom frame after stopping the tap which by some strange freak had turned itself on I closed the bathroom door and returned to my work with a renewed resolve to send for the plumber on the morrow it was some time however before I was able fully to concentrate again for I kept breaking off to listen for that drip drip drip I listened in vain for the tiresome sound was not renewed and though I wrote for at least an hour longer I did not hear it again that night next morning I put my resolve into practice and in due course my friend the plumber arrived after spending considerable time in the bathroom he came in to report to me didn't seem to be anything wrong sir he assured me but I've put a new washer on and it'll be right enough now sir I'll bob in again though just to see it's going proper apparently he was right for I did not hear the tap at all during the day once after mrs. biggs had gone I visited the bathroom to inspect the job and was quite convinced that the dripping would not cause me further inconvenience also I took the opportunity of seeing that the bathroom window was securely fastened and thus satisfied I returned to my study I got thoroughly warmed up to my work and was totally oblivious to everything but the scratch of my pen as it sped across the smooth surface of the paper all else wrapped in a quietness like that of a tropical night a quietness paradoxically emphasized by the multitude of familiar sounds that strangely enough failed to impress themselves upon one's mind solely by reason of their very insistence the ticking of the clock on the wall before me the falling of an occasional coal from the grate these and other commonplace noises served only to heighten the deadly stillness of my room then suddenly as I wrote I became conscious of a new sound an accompaniment it seemed to the scratch of my pen drip drip drip it pierced the silence like a rapier pierces a heart it forced itself upon me so harshly that I dropped my pen and stuffed my fingers into my ears to shut it out as I did so I raised my head and found myself gazing with a feeling akin to fear at the clock it was exactly a quarter to eleven for an instant I stared and a cold shiver ran down my spine was it merely coincidence or was there something uncanny about the tap a quarter to eleven slowly fearfully I turned my head toward the door half expecting to see some awful apparition come gliding through then I laughed somewhat nervously I must admit at my childish dread and got sharply to my feet hang it all my nerves were all on edge I was working too hard rest would do me good drip drip drip nothing strange about that surely I thought I would have it out with my friend the plumber all the same meanwhile I must try and check the dripping as I entered the bathroom the tap seeming to protest against my interference began to drip faster and I reached out my hand to stop it then I felt a peculiar stinging burning sensation of intense cold across the backs of my hands as though someone were passing a piece of ice over them and the knob of the tap began slowly to unscrew itself it was weird uncanny I cannot adequately describe it I tried to resist that unseen force but was powerless against it nor could I withdraw my hands from the tap they were numb with that fake coldness and pressed on by invisible fingers against the metal while the screw slowly turned round and round before my very eyes and the drip drip became a swift dribble and then an awful nameless terror took possession of me I strove to flee but could not I turned my head away but some strange power impelled me to return my gaze to the tap that kept on slowly turning turning my heart beat madly against my ribs I was hot and cold alternately I think I went mad and struggled wildly to escape that horrible influence then as the screw reached its limit and the water gushed forth the little window suddenly was flung open and an icy blast met me and sent me staggering back against the wall for a few minutes I leaned there striving to study my wracked nerves and collect my scattered wits but now all was still and quiet saved for the rushing of the water mechanically I crossed to the basin and turned the tap off afterward closing and fastening the window now I was able to think more calmly and endeavored to probe the mystery of this strange happening but try as I would I could not explain it I had always been a skeptic I was concerned and yet the next day passed quite as usual and though on several occasions I entered the bathroom there was no indication of anything out of the ordinary about the place the tap was behaving just as any self-respecting tap should during the evening I received a visit from an old college chum, Ralph Gratrix in the old days we had fought many a wordy battle on matters relating to psychic research for Gratrix was a keen student of the subject whereas I, as I have intimated was openly a scoffer remembering thus I took the opportunity of telling him of my experience of the previous night when I finished my tale Gratrix was silent for a space then he turned and looked at me queerly and said rather irrelevantly I thought do you remember the Goldstone murder which created such a sensation some six months ago I said I had a slight recollection of the affair a certain theatrical manager of the name of Goldstone had murdered his wife in a fit of jealousy wasn't it yes Gratrix agreed slowly well the crime was committed in this flat now it was my turn to stare curiously in this flat I repeated taking out my cigarette case and offering it to him Gratrix nodded let me refresh your memory a little he said lighting up this Goldstone was known to be insanely jealous of his young wife it was said that he suspected her being unduly interested in a certain actor who was then playing lead in Goldstone's company well one night a Sunday it was Goldstone was returning to his flat when he passed the actor in the street immediately Goldstone's jealousy was aroused in his mind there was but one explanation his wife had taken advantage of his absence to receive her lover oh I seem to remember that I interrupted it was proved afterwards that the actor had just left some friends further up the street and whose company he had been all the evening wasn't that it yes you're right Gratrix said but Goldstone didn't know that all he thought of was the supposed faithlessness of his wife his previous suspicions seemed to be more than justified and he entered the flat with murder in his heart his wife was just retiring and had gone into the bathroom for a glass of water which she was in the habit of taking last thing at night she had just turned on the tap she was in the office well and was reaching for the glass when Goldstone burst in upon her Gratrix paused and gazed into the fireplace that would be some time just before eleven he said reflectively just before eleven I shot the question suddenly that's the time the tap starts to drip my friend nodded his head slowly and continued she hadn't time to fill the glass before Goldstone had her by the throat you know the rest but it was too late he finished speaking and bent to poke the dying fire into a last despairing flame I gazed at him half doubtfully then you think I began I believe he said deliberately that the spirit of the dead woman is seeking to complete the action which the mind conceived with the body was unable to carry out you mean that the thought uppermost in the woman's mind when death overtook her was to obtain a glass of water the spirit will not rest in peace until this thought becomes translated into action yes he said and then stopped short listening intently I had heard the sound also and knew that the hour had come glancing quickly at the clock I saw that it was a quarter to eleven and as the drip drip drip slowly became louder I felt something of that fear of the previous night returning Gratrix rose sharply in the fireplace a strange far-off look in his eyes come he said quietly and I followed him not without some misgivings to the bathroom as he pushed open the door my eyes instinctively sought out the tap and I saw that it was slowly turning turning for an instant my friend watched in silence then suddenly he crossed to the basin and taking a glass from the shelf above held it under the tap which now was running swiftly I watched him shivering a little as I felt an icy wave pass by me but Gratrix did not appear to notice anything and placing the glass now full on the basin he came quickly to my side watch he said simply together we gazed at that glass of water and then with a shock I realized that it was moving slowly almost imperceptibly at first it began to float upward as though raised by an invisible hand fascinated horrified course and I think I would have rushed forward had not my companion held me back with a warning arm higher the glass went and that invisible hand began to tilt it so that it seemed as if the contents must be spilled to the floor no drop fell however instead I saw the water slowly disappearing vanishing into the air until the last drop was gone I felt my head throbbing my heart began to raise I could stand it no longer and with the cry I flung aside I was restraining hand and darted wildly forward with a loud crash the window burst open and as I fell back before the fierceness of that inrush of air the glass freed from the invisible power tumbled to the floor where it shattered into a hundred fragments with an effort I calmed myself and turned to Gratrix who was still standing with his back against the wall a vacant look in his eyes and a faint smile of an understanding and relief on his lips what was it I stammered what does it mean quietly he answered as he turned toward me it means that the unexpressed thought has become an actuality the spirit will trouble you no more my friend the plumber came as he had promised to see how his job had gone on well Sarri said I dare bet is how that tap ain't dripping now eh I smiled thoughtfully no I replied slowly it doesn't drip now I thought is how I'd fix it I don't know about tap ain't worth wasting breath on end of the tap recording by Colleen McMahon there shall be no misunderstanding by Hildegard Hawthorne this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org read by Newgate novelist there shall be no misunderstanding by Hildegard Hawthorne nonsense Archie why won't you look at it from my point of view there's no need of getting angry about the matter it's simply my dear girl I see your point of view without any trouble at all of course you've a perfect right to any opinion you choose to hold I don't pretend to flatter myself that I should have any influence in getting you to change it Archie well you are absurd just because I don't agree with you I'm to be accused of selfishness and obstinacy if anyone is obstinate it certainly isn't I very likely perhaps we'd better not talk of the matter any more the two young people were seated on the veranda of a country house charmingly empowered in creeping vines and commanding a wide view of the Hudson and the mighty hills through which it winds the summer air was full of the fragrance of new moon hay and the drowsy murmur of insects lulled the ear while ever and anon a thrush by the brook rippled into mellow song everything spoke of peace except the two in whose hearts by right the perfecting glory of love should have given the culminating touch for the two were engaged yet it so happened that a dispute trifling in itself had become magnified and embittered after the sad human way until both the man and the girl were in a state where any moment might bring forth some act or word which the rest of their lives would be spent regretting after Archie's last remark there was silence for several minutes he leaned back in his chair and looked grimly down at the river while Eileen having turned from him with a swift movement stared nervously across the hills and blinked the tears from her eyes she spoke it was with a measured coldness which hid the hurried beating of her heart if we have only been engaged a week and have already found a topic on which we must be silent for fear of quarrelling I think there must be something wrong if you can say such a thing as that Eileen there surely is replied her lover hoarsely then there's nothing to do but she stopped abruptly and glanced at Archie but he still stared at the river and scarcely seemed to have heard her she sprang to her feet and the angry colour dyed her cheeks I'm sorry I've been so slow to understand you Archie she exclaimed it's evident we are not suited to each other the best we can do is to forget we've ever been engaged Archie stood up and looked at her pale as she was flushed do you mean our engagement is broken he asked here is your ring and she tore it off and handed it to him if your love for me cannot stand a disagreement Eileen doubtless you are right he looked at the ring and then put it slowly into his pocket Eileen turned away and began to arrange the magazines on a table a moment or two passed then Archie without another word strode down the veranda steps and mounting his horse which stood hitched at the foot galloped off Eileen listened to the beat of the hoofs until they died away then she went slowly into the house and up to her room she felt as though she were carrying a great weight and almost staggered as she reached her door tears blinded her as she entered the perfume of the roses he had brought her that morning sweetened the air there stood his photograph manly handsome with the smile in his eyes which she knew so well Archie Archie Archie she sobbed and threw herself on the bed in a passion of tears how can it have happened what was the matter with us you know I love you Archie yes and I know you love me and yet if we had hated each other we couldn't have been more cruel call to love like ours cast out misunderstanding and vanity and selfishness I would die gladly if my death could save him from any pain and yet I cannot yield a worthless point to him to him who is more than the whole world to me we didn't mean what we said it wasn't we who were talking and yet we have given each other a deadly wound have insulted her love have trampled a holy thing in the dust was slipped by and at last Eileen roused herself she sat up feeling absently at the fourth finger of her left hand she started as she realized what she was looking for even my little finger misses him she whispered with a pitiful smile behind the house a narrow winding path made its way between the apple trees and passed a yellow field of rye through a green wood and over a brook by a pretty rustic bridge beyond that point it wandered on with many a lovely turn giving now and again an enchanting glimpse of the great river until a mile or more farther it joined the highway it had been the custom of the lovers to meet at the little bridge every evening and then the saunter together along the path and home by a shortcut across the gulf links Eileen knew that the hour when she generally started for the tristing place was at hand knew, hesitated and suddenly arose he won't be there tonight and I think my heart will break but I will go I cannot stay away the shadows were long under the apple trees as she walked out and the robins fluted joyously the evening seemed too lovely to belong to earth meant for heaven it had somehow lost its way and dropped by a fortunate chance on our world as Eileen moved slowly along the fragrant path seeing in the sky the wonderful ever-changing shades of rose and green and purple and the music from a hundred happy birds breathing the balmy air an indescribable piece came into her troubled heart what though anger and misunderstanding lay behind she knew it was all right now or she would be waiting for her waiting with a look of perfect comprehension and she would not even need to speak but speak she would never had before to tell him how deep how great her love was and that nevermore should a shadow darken it never, never the birds sang always more sweetly and the wind among the branches made tender harmonies that chimed with the love in her heart and now she passed the yellow grain entered the woods and there, indeed midway on the bridge where the sun sent a mellow gleam through the overarching branches stood her lover awaiting her a wave of happiness surged over her taking her breath for an instant she stopped and then ran forward with hands outstretched calling in a voice low but of piercing tenderness I knew that I should find you I knew you would be here if you had not I think I should have died in a moment they were in each other's arms and at his kiss the last faint doubt or lingering veil of bitterness if any there was passed utterly out of Eileen's heart and it seemed to her that in that moment for the first time she knew happiness supreme divine have you waited long not long love Archie, you forgive me I understand you, beloved and what is real beside our love with their arms about each other they sauntered on down the path the dying radiance of the sun made a glory about them the bees whispered and swayed over their heads and it seemed to Eileen as though she scarcely touched the ground what indeed was real beside their love these lovely things about her these singing birds and fragrant flowers and murmuring leaves they were only a sort of picture a reflection of the happiness in her heart as long as this beautiful happiness lasted and well she knew that it could never end so long too would this delightful blossoming world surround them it must always be glorious summer where they too were my beloved said Archie, looking down at her with shining eyes is not such a union sacrifice it would be worth any sacrifice he drew her closer they had reached an open glade where a clear spring bubbled up inside a circle of rocks and trickled off in a series of tiny pools and streamlets where birds bathed and fluttered moved by the same impulse the lovers seated themselves on the grass beside this spring and remained a while in silence looking into the crystal depth of the water each saw therein the reflection of the other and to Eileen it seemed that never before had she seen a loftier beauty than was now expressed by her lover's face he seemed almost to emit light and half startled smiling she turned towards him Archie she cried catching his hand in hers let me feel you I want to be sure you are real in the pool there you hardly seem to belong to this world Archie smiled and threw his arm about her there is only one real world he replied and we both belong to that give me your hand there is something missing from it that should be there Eileen flushed and paled holding out her left hand with a gesture almost tragic yes put it back she whispered the best part of myself is lacking when that is not there he slipped the ring back and kissed the slender fingers never let it come off again the circle is the symbol of our perfect union and that stone the shining sign of its immortality I shall always wear it said Eileen solemnly as though she were pronouncing a vow come then my beloved the time approaches said Archie with a deep tenderness the time Stylene dreamily as they rose glancing again into the pool she caught a last wavering reflection of her lover's features surely there was a story gleam about his brows they moved on together to what seemed like rhythmic harmony albeit soundless as a dream the time Archie what time you will know soon now but remember my darling nothing can really part us you know that I know it they were nearing the end of the path and only a short way beyond lay the high road suddenly a great dread was born in Eileen's heart she clung trembling to her lover don't go on Archie I am afraid don't go on it is so perfect here like heaven I cannot bear to leave it Archie smiled and the smile held so much of joy and yet with all so tender a pity that tears filled Eileen's eyes even as she leaned against him with a sigh of perfect happiness it is indeed like heaven little love he said in a voice as deep and musical as the murmur of great pines but we must go on do you not understand Eileen lifted her head slowly and looked into her lover's eyes long they gazed at each other hand clasped in hand heart against heart you see said Archie at last Eileen turned pale and paler and her eyes grew dark with dread not that my love not that she whispered bear that I cannot lose you now we belong to each other forever but for a little while it is the sacrifice the men stumbled along awkwardly with their load breathing heavily suddenly they saw a girl step out into the dusty highway they halted abruptly looking one at the other with white faces and trying as best they might to hide from her eyes the nature of their burden she came steadily towards them however and seeing this they laid what they were carrying by the roadside and one of them came towards the girl hastily don't come any farther he exclaimed there's been an accident and I know she answered quietly and stopped even in the fading light he could see she was deadly pale then she came on he is dead I know I must see him they drew aside one of the muttering as she passed it was his horse it fell with him end of there shall be no misunderstanding by Hildegard Hawthorne The Thing at Kent by Henri de Balzac this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org read by Dale Grossman The Thing at Kent by Henri de Balzac a peculiar thing took place at Kent while I was staying there a lady ten years a widow lay on her bed attacked by a mortal sickness the three heirs of collateral lineage were waiting for her last sigh they did not leave her side for fear that she would make a will in favor of the convent of bejeans belonging to the town the sick woman kept silent she seemed dozing and death appeared to overspread very gradually her mute and livid face can't you imagine those three relations sitting in silence through that winter midnight beside her bed an old nurse is with them and she shakes her head and the doctor sees with anxiety that the sickness has reached its last stage and holds his hat in one hand and with the other makes a sign to the relations as if to say to them we have no more visits to make here amid the solemn silence of the room is heard a dull rustling of the snowstorm which beats upon the shutters for fear that the eyes of the dying woman might be dazzled by the light the youngest of the heirs had fitted a shade to the candle which stood near the bed so that the circle of light scarcely reached the pillow of the bed from which the sallow continents of the sick woman stood out like the figure of Christ imperfectly gilded and fixed upon a cross of tarnished silver the flickering rays shed by the blue flames of the crackling fire were therefore the sole light of this somber chamber where the denouement of a drama was just ending which suddenly rolled from the fire on to the floor as if presaging some catastrophe at the sound of it the sick woman quickly rose to a sitting posture she opened two eyes clear as those of a cat and all present eyed her in astonishment she saw the log advance and before anyone could check an unexpected movement prompted by a kind of delirium she bounded from her bed seized the tongs and threw the coal back into the fireplace the nurse the doctor and relations rushed to her assistance they took the dying woman in their arms they put her back in bed she lay her head upon the pillow and after a few minutes died keeping her eyes fixed even after her death upon the plank in the floor which the burning brand had touched scarcely had the Countess von Ostrom expired when the three co-heirs exchanged looks of suspicion and thinking no more about their aunt began to examine the mysterious floor as they were Belgians their calculations were as rapid as their glances that agreement was made by three words uttered in low voice that none of them would leave the chamber a servant was sent to fetch a carpenter their collateral hearts beat excitedly as they gathered around the treasured flooring and watched their young apprentice give the first blow with his chisel the plank was cut through my aunt made a sign said the youngest of the heirs no, it was merely a quivering of the light that made it appear so replied the eldest who kept one eye on the treasure and the other on the corpse the afflictive relations discovered exactly on the spot where the brand had fallen a certain object artistically enveloped in a mass of plaster proceed, said the eldest of the heirs the chisel of the apprentice then brought to light a human head and some odds and ends of clothing from which they recognized the count whom all the town believed had died at Java and whose loss had been bitterly deplored by his wife the end of The Thing at Get by Henri de Balzac three and one are one by Ambrose Bierce this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org read for LibriVox by Dale Grossman three and one are one by Ambrose Bierce in the year 1861 Barr Lasseter a young man of 22 lived with his parents and an elderly sister near Carthage, Tennessee the family were in somewhat humble circumstances subsisting by cultivation of a small and not very fertile plantation owning no slaves they were not rated among the best people of their neighborhood but they were honest persons of good education fairly well mannered and as respectable as any family could be if uncredentialed by personal dominion over the sons and daughters of Ham the elder Lasseter had that severity of manner that so frequently affirms an uncompromising devotion to duty and conceals a warm and affectionate disposition he was of the iron of which martyrs are made in the same way he was of the iron of which martyrs had lurked a nobler metal fusible at a milder heat yet never coloring nor softening the hard exterior by both heredity and environment something of the man's inflexible character had touched the other members of the family the Lasseter home though not devoid of domestic affection was a veritable citadel of duty is as cruel as death when the war came it found in the family as in so many others in the state a divided sentiment the young man was loyal to the union the others savagely hostile this unhappy division begot an unsupportable domestic bitterness and when the offending son and brother left home with an avowed purpose of joining the federal army not a hand was laid in him not a word of farewell was spoken not a good wish followed him out into the world whether he might meet with such spirit as he might whatever fate awaited him making his way to Nashville already occupied by the army of general Buell he enlisted in the first organization that he found a Kentucky regiment of cavalry due time passed through all the stages of military evolution from raw recruit to experienced trooper a right good trooper he was too although in his oral narrative from which this tale is made there is no mention of that the fact was learned from his surviving comrades for Bart Lasseter has answered here to the sergeant whose name is death two years after he had joined it his regiment passed through the region whence he had come the country there about had suffered severely from the ravages of war having been occupied alternately and simultaneously by the belligerent forces and the sanguinary struggle had occurred in the immediate vicinity of the Lasseter homestead but of this the young trooper was not aware finding himself in camp near his home he felt a natural longing to see his parents and sister hoping that in them as in him the unnatural animosity of the period had been softened by time and separation obtaining a leave of absence he set foot in the late summer afternoon and soon after the rising of the full moon was walking up the gravel path leading to the dwelling in which he had been born soldiers in the war age rapidly and in youth two years are a long time Bar Lasseter felt himself an old man and had almost expected to find the place in ruin and desolation nothing apparently was changed at the sight of each dear and familiar object he was profoundly affected his heart beat audibly his emotions nearly suffocated him an ache was in his throat unconsciously he quickened his pace until he almost ran his long shadow making grotesque efforts to keep its place beside him the house was unlighted and the door opened as he approached and paused to recover control of himself his father came out and stood bareheaded in the moonlight father cried the young man without stretched hand father the elder man looked him sternly in the face stood a moment motionless and without a word withdrew into the house bitterly disappointed humiliated unexpressibly hurt and altogether unnerved the soldier dropped into a rustic seat in deep dejection supporting his head upon his trembling hand but he would not have it so he was too good a soldier to accept repulse as defeat he rose and entered the house passing directly to the sitting-room it was dimly lighted by an uncurtained east window on a low stool by the hearse side the only article of furniture in place sat his mother staring into the fireplace strewn with blackened embers and cold ash he spoke to her tenderly interrogatively and with hesitation but she neither answered nor moved nor seemed in any way surprised true, there had been time for her husband to apprise her of their guilty son's return he moved nearer and was about to lay his hand upon her arm when his sister entered from an adjoining room looked him full in the face passed him without a sign of recognition and left the room by a door that was partly behind him he had turned his head to watch her but when she was gone his eyes again sought his mother she too had left the place Bar Lasseter strode to the door by which he had entered the moonlight on the lawn was tremulous the trees and their black shadows shook as in a breeze blended with its borders the gravel walk seemed unsteady and insecure to walk on this young soldier knew the optical illusions produced by tears he felt them on his cheek and he saw them sparkle on the breast of his troopers' jacket he left the house and made his way back to camp the next day the next day with no very definite intention with no dominant feeling that he would rightly have named he again sought the spot within a half a mile of it he met Bushrod Elbrough a former playfellow and schoolmate who greeted him warmly I'm going to visit my home said the soldier the other looked at him rather sharply and said nothing I know, continued Lasseter that my folks have not changed but there have been changes, Elbrough interrupted everything changes I'll go with you if you don't mind we can talk as we go but Elbrough did not talk instead of a home they found only fire blackened foundations of stone enclosing an area of compact ash pitted by rains Lasseter's astonishment was extreme I could not find the right way to tell you, said Elbrough in the fight a year ago your house was burned by a federal shell and my family where are they? in heaven, I hope all were killed by the shell the end of three and one are one by Ambrose Bierce an unbidden guest from 25 ghost stories compiled and edited by W. Bob Holland this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org read by Dale Grossman an unbidden guest by W. Bob Holland my cousins, Kate and Tom Howard married at Trinity at Easter time concluded to commence housekeeping by taking one of those delightfully expensive furnished, unfurnished cottages with which the fashionable watering place of W abounds from those rear windows one might almost take a plunge into the surf the beach being at the back door they went down quite early in May being in a great hurry to try their domestic experiment and, as the evenings were still cold, they spent them about the open fire spooning it was upon one of these nights about eleven o'clock that they were startled by a noise as of some small objects falling soon followed by the sound of heavy footsteps and then quiet reigned again supreme at once Tom poker in hand boldly started in search of the burglar followed by Kate wildly clutching at his coattails in a state of tremor they looked upstairs under the various beds Kate suggesting that in novels they were always to be found there the dining room was next explored where all seemed well and lastly the kitchen where they found what was evidently a solution of the mystery the burglar had entered by the back door which was found to be unlocked and slightly ajar the first excitement subsiding they returned again to the dining room where Tom upon closer inspection then discovered that one of a pair of quaint little pepper pots wedding gifts was missing and other small articles on the sideboard had been slightly disturbed the next morning when Kate were remonstrated with the queen of the kitchen for her carelessness she received a shock by being told that it was her usual custom to leave the door open so that it could be easy convenient Loki for the milk maid they parted with her and a new maid was engaged whose chief qualification for the place was that she was most faithful in the discharge of her duties especially in locking up while they mourned the loss of the pepper pot it still seemed so trifling when they thought of that lovely repose salad bowl sent by Aunt Julia which stood nearby that nothing was said of the loss outside of the family and the little household settled into its normal state once more of billing and cooing about a fortnight later Tom started out one night with an old fisherman one of the natives and a local character to indulge in that delightful pastime so dear to the heart of man known as Ealing and as the night was dark the eels were particularly sporty so that it was well on toward the way small hours when Tom at last returned to the cottage he found all excitement within Kate was in hysterics and also weeping was industriously applying the camphor bottle to her mistress's nose the burglar or ghost as they had now decided the windows and doors being found to be securely locked this time had been abroad again and had succeeded in perloining nothing his royal ghost-chip had amused himself apparently by simply walking about oh Tom he had on such heavy boots and was so dreadfully bold about it said Kate tearfully from that time Kate became nervous and refused to be left alone Tom started whenever the door creaked and the treasure departed hurriedly saying faith the house is haunted sure after that Kate spent her days in girl hunting and her nights in answering shadowy advertisements that never materialized Irish, English, Dutch and the heathen Chinese with a sprinkling of colored ladies to vary the monotony they seemed about to become famous throughout the length and breadth of the land as the family that changes help once a week when they landed treasure number two shortly after her advent we were all asked down to W to help celebrate their happiness and incidentally to christen the new dining set we were not a little surprised to find Kate so pale and Tom rather distraight however after a delightful dinner that should have filled with pleasure the most exacting bride we adjourned to the piazza leaving the men to the contemplation of their cigars we were enthusiastic in our praise of the house and congratulated Kate in securing such a prize when to our horror she burst into tears and said oh girls, it's a dreadful place it's haunted and then tearfully proceeded with the details until we all felt creepy and suggested the parlor and lights it was not long afterward that Kate discovered that Tom had also related the ghost story to the man that evening to which Ned Harris had said leconically, rats and Bob Shaw laughingly remarked Tom, old chap you really shouldn't take your nightcap so strong about the first of July the climax came the ghost walked again this time taking not only the remaining pepper pot but also a silver salt cellar evidently he had a penchant for small articles but unlike former times everything on the sideboard was in the greatest disorder Aunt Julia's salad bowl was found on the floor and not far away the cheese dish with its contents scattered about this time one of the windows was found half open a week later a note came to me from Kate saying that she and Tom had gone to Saratoga to spend the remainder of the season with her mother the following spring Tom received a note and parcel from Mr. B, the owner of the house at W which read as follows dear Mr. Howard I send you by express three articles of silver which my wife suggests may belong to you as they are marked with your initials namely two silver pepper pots and a salt cellar they were found the other day during the process of spring house cleaning in a rat hole behind the sideboard I forgot to have the holes stopped last spring or to caution you against the water rats the great fellows will get in you know kind regards to Mrs. Howard yours truly John B the next season the ghost club was organized the badge being a small silver rat bearing proudly aloft a tiny pepper pot we thoughtfully offered Tom the presidency but he declined with offended dignity from the effects of which I think he will never fully recover the end of The Unbidden Ghost by W. Bob Holland