"Humph!" I observed. "That settles it! Ghosts! And to think I never believed in them before! Well, I am going to try."
"Try what?" Mr. Marsden said, a note of alarm in his voice.
"Try laying it. I have an idea I may succeed."
"I wish you luck, then. May I come with you?"
"Thanks, no!" I rejoined. "I would rather go there alone."
I said this in a well-lighted room, with the hum of a crowded thoroughfare in my ears. Twenty minutes later, when I had left all that behind, and was fast approaching the darkest part of an exceptionally dark road, I wished I had not. At the very spot, where I had previously seen the figures, I saw them now. They suddenly appeared by my side, and though I was going at a great rate--for the horse took fright--they kept easy pace with me. Twice I essayed to speak to them, but could not e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e a syllable through sheer horror, and it was only by nerving myself to the utmost, and forcing my eyes away from them, that I was able to stick to my seat and hold on to the reins. On and on we dashed, until trees, road, sky, universe were obliterated in one blinding whirlwind that got up my nostrils, choked my ears, and deadened me to everything, save the all-terrorizing, instinctive knowledge, that the figures by my side, were still there, stalking along as quietly and leisurely as if the horse had been going at a snail"s pace.
At last, to my intense relief--for never had the ride seemed longer--I reached the Crow"s Nest, and as I hurriedly dismounted from the trap, the figures shot past me and vanished. Once inside the house, and in the bosom of my family, where all was light and laughter, courage returned, and I upbraided myself bitterly for this cowardice.
I confessed to my wife, and she insisted on accompanying me the following afternoon, at twilight, to the spot where the ghost appeared to originate. To our intense dismay, we had not been there more than three or four minutes, before Dora, our youngest girl, a pretty, sweet-tempered child of eight, came running up to us with a telegram, which one of the servants had asked her to give us. My wife, s.n.a.t.c.hing it from her, and reading it, was about to scold her severely, when she suddenly paused, and clutching hold of the child with one hand, pointed hysterically at something on one side of her with the other. I looked, and Dora looked, and we both saw, standing erect and staring at us, the spare figure of a man, with a ghastly white face and dull, lifeless eyes, clad in a panama hat, albert coat, and small, patent-leather boots; beside him were two glossy--abnormally glossy--poodles.
I tried to speak, but, as before, was too frightened to articulate a sound, and my wife was in the same plight. With Dora, however, it was otherwise, and she electrified us by going up to the figure, and exclaiming:
"Who are you? You must feel very ill to look so white. Tell me your name."
The figure made no reply, but gliding slowly forward, moved up to a large, isolated oak, and pointing with the index finger of its left hand at the trunk of the tree, seemingly sank into the earth and vanished from view.
For some seconds everyone was silent, and then my wife exclaimed:
"Jack, I shouldn"t wonder if Dora hasn"t been the means of solving the mystery. Examine the tree closely."
I did so. The tree was hollow, and inside it were three skeletons!
Here followed an extract from a local paper:
"_Sensational Discovery in a Wood near Marytown_
"Whilst exploring in a wood, near Marytown, the other evening, a party of the name of B---- discovered three skeletons--a human being and two dogs--in the trunk of an oak. From the remnant of clothes still adhering to the human remains, the latter were proved to be those of an individual known as Mr. Jeremiah Dance, whose strange disappearance from the Crow"s Nest--the house he rented in the neighbourhood--some two years ago, was the occasion of much comment. On closer examination, extraordinary to relate, the remains have been proved to be those of a WOMAN; and from certain abrasions on the skull, there is little doubt she met with a violent end."
A second extract taken from the same paper runs thus:--
"_Suicide at Marytown_
"Late last night Percy Baldwin, the man who is under arrest on suspicion of having caused the death of the unknown woman, whose skeleton was found on Monday in the trunk of a tree, committed suicide by hanging himself with his suspenders to the ceiling of his cell. Pinned on his coat was a slip of paper bearing these words: "She was my wife--I loved her. She took to drink--I parted from her. She became a dog-worshipper.
I killed her--and her dogs.""
_Phantasms of Living Dogs_
I could quote innumerable cases of people who have either seen or heard the spirits of dead dogs. However, as s.p.a.ce does not permit of this, I proceed to the oft-raised question, "Do animals as well as people project themselves?" My reply is--yes; according to my experience they do.
Some friends of mine have a big tabby that has frequently been seen in two places at the same time; for example, it has been observed by several people to be sitting on a chair in the dining-room, and, at the same moment, it has been seen by two or more other persons extended at full length before the kitchen fire--the latter figure proving to be its immaterial, or what some designate its astral body, which vanishes the instant an attempt is made to touch it. The only explanation of this phenomenon seems to me to lie in projection--the cat possessing the faculty of separating--in this instance, unconsciously--its spiritual from its physical body--the former travelling anywhere, regardless of s.p.a.ce, time and material obstacles. I have often had experiences similar to this with a friend"s dog. I have been seated in a room, either reading or writing, and on looking up have distinctly seen the dog lying on the carpet in front of me. A few minutes later a sc.r.a.ping at the door or window--both of which have been shut all the while--and on my rising to see what was there, I have discovered the dog outside! Had I not been so positive I had seen the dog on the ground in front of me, I might have thought it was an hallucination; but hallucinations are never so vivid nor so lasting--moreover, other people have had similar experiences with the same dog. And why not? Dogs, on the whole, are every whit as reasoning and reflective as the bulk of human beings! And how much n.o.bler! Compare, for a moment, the dogs you know--no matter whether mastiffs, retrievers, dachshunds, poodles, or even Pekinese, with your acquaintances--with the people you see everywhere around you--false, greedy, spiteful, scandal-loving women, money-grubbing attorneys, lying, swindling tradesmen, vulgar parvenus, finicky curates, brutal roughs, spoilt, cruel children, hypocrites of both s.e.xes--compare them carefully--and the comparison is entirely in favour of the dog!
And if the creating Power (or Powers) has favoured these wholly selfish and degenerate human beings with spirits, and has conferred on certain of them the faculty of projecting those spirits, can one imagine, for one moment, that similar gifts have been denied to dogs--their superiors in every respect? Pshaw! Out upon it! To think so would mean to think the unthinkable, to attribute to G.o.d qualities of partiality, injustice and whimsicality, which would render Him little, if anything, better than a James the Second of England, or a Louis the Fifteenth of France.
Besides, from my own experience, and the experiences of those with whom I have been brought in contact, I can safely affirm that there are phantasms (and therefore spirits) of both living and dead dogs in just the same proportion as there are phantasms (and therefore spirits) of both living and dead human beings.
_Psychic Properties of Dogs_
Some, not all, dogs--like cats--possess the psychic property of scenting the advent of death, and they indicate their fear of it by the most dismal howling. In my opinion there is very little doubt that dogs actually see some kind of phantasm that, knowing when death is about to take place, visits the house of the doomed and stands beside his, or her, couch. I have had this phantasm described to me, by those who declare they have seen it, as a very tall, hooded figure, clad in a dark, loose, flowing costume--its face never discernible. It would, of course, be foolish to say that a dog howling in a house is invariably the sign of death; there are many other and obvious causes which produce something of a similar effect; but I think one may be pretty well a.s.sured that, when the howling is accompanied by unmistakable signs of terror, then someone, either in the house at the time, or connected with someone in the house, will shortly die.
_Dogs in Haunted Houses_
When I investigate a haunted house, I generally take a dog with me, because experience has taught me that a dog seldom fails to give notice, in some way or another--either by whining, or growling, or crouching shivering at one"s feet, or springing on one"s lap and trying to bury its head in one"s coat--of the proximity of a ghost. I had a dog with me, when ghost-hunting, not so very long ago, in a well-known haunted house in Gloucestershire. The dog--my only companion--and I sat on the staircase leading from the hall to the first floor. Just about two o"clock the dog gave a loud growl. I put my hand out and found it was shivering from head to foot. Almost directly afterwards I heard the loud clatter of fire-irons from somewhere away in the bas.e.m.e.nt, a door banged, and then something, or someone, began to ascend the stairs. Up, up, up came the footsteps, until I could see--first of all a bluish light, then the top of a head, then a face, white and luminous, staring up at me. A few more steps, and the whole thing was disclosed to view.
It was the figure of a girl of about sixteen, with a shock head of red hair, on which was stuck, all awry, a dirty little, old-fashioned servant"s cap. She was clad in a cotton dress, soiled and bedraggled, and had on her feet a pair of elastic-sided boots, that looked as if they would fall to pieces each step she took. But it was her face that riveted my attention most. It was startlingly white and full of an expression of the most hopeless misery. The eyes, wide open and gla.s.sy, were turned direct on mine. I was too appalled either to stir or utter a sound. The phantasm came right up to where I stood, paused for a second, and then slowly went on; up, up, up, until a sudden bend in the staircase hid it from view. For some seconds there was a continuation of the footsteps, then there came a loud splash from somewhere outside and below--and then silence--sepulchral and omnipotent.
I did not wait to see if anything further would happen. I fled, and d.i.c.k, my dog friend, who was apparently even more frightened than I, fled with me. We arrived home--panic-stricken.
Over and over again, on similar occasions, I have had a dog with me, and the same thing has occurred--the dog has made some noise indicative of great fear, remaining in a state of stupor during the actual presence of the apparition.
_Psychic Propensities of Dogs compared with those of Cats_
Though dogs are, perhaps, rather more alarmed at the Unknown than cats, I do not think they have a keener sense of its proximity. Still, for the very reason that they show greater--more unmistakable--indications of fear, they make surer psychic barometers. The psychic faculty of scent in dogs would seem to be more limited than that in cats; for, whereas cats can not only detect the advent and presence of pleasant and unpleasant phantoms by their smells, few dogs can do more than detect the approach of death. Dogs make friends nearly, if not quite, as readily with cruel and brutal people as with kind ones, simply because they cannot, so easily as cats, distinguish by their scent the unpleasant types of spirits cruel and brutal people attract; in all probability, they are not even aware of the presence of such spirits.
It would seem, on the face of it, that since dogs are, on the whole, of a gentler disposition than cats, that is to say, not quite so cruel and savage, the phantasms of dogs would be less likely to be earth-bound than those of cats; but, then, one must take into consideration the other qualities of the two animals, and when these are put in the balance, one may find little to choose--morally--between the cat and the dog. Anyhow, after making allowance for the fact that many more cats die unnatural deaths than dogs, there would seem to be small numerical difference in their hauntings--cases of dog ghosts appearing to be just as common as cases of cat ghosts.
Apropos of phantom dogs, my friend Dr. G. West writes to me thus:--
"Of the older English Universities many stories are told of bizarre happenings,--of duels, raggings, suicides and such-like--in olden times; but of K., venerable, ill.u.s.trious K. of Ireland, few and far between are the accounts of similar occurrences. This is one, however, and it deals with the phantom of a dog:--
"One evening, towards the end of the eighteenth century, John Kelly, a Dean of the College (extremely unpopular on account of his supposed harsh treatment of some of the undergraduates), was about to commence his supper, when he heard a low whine, and looking down, saw a large yellow dog cross the floor in front of him, and disappear immediately under the full-length portrait that hung over the antique chimney-piece.
Something prompting him, he glanced at the picture. The eyes that looked into his blinked.
""It must be the result of an overtaxed brain," he said to himself.
"Those rascally undergraduates have got on my nerves."
"He shut his eyes; and re-opening them, stared hard at the portrait. It was not a delusion. The eyes that gazed back at him were alive--alive with the spirit of mockery; they smiled, laughed, jeered; and, as they did so, the knowledge of his surroundings was brought forcibly home to him. The room in which he was seated was situated at the end of a long, cheerless, stone pa.s.sage in the western wing of the College. Away from all the other rooms of the building, it was absolutely isolated; and had long borne the reputation of being haunted by a dog, which was said to appear only before some catastrophe. The Dean had hitherto committed the story to the category of fables. But now,--now, as he sat all alone in that big silent room, lit only with the reddish rays of a fast-setting August sun, and stared into the gleaming eyes before him--he was obliged to admit the extreme probability of spookdom. Never before had the College seemed so quiet. Not a sound--not even the creaking of a board or the far-away laugh of a student, common enough noises on most nights--fell on his ears. The hush was omnipotent, depressing, unnerving; he could only a.s.sociate it with the supernatural. Though he was too fascinated to remove his gaze from the thing before him, he could feel the room fill with shadows, and feel them steal through the half-open windows, and, uniting with those already in the corners, glide noiselessly and surrept.i.tiously towards him. He felt, too, that he was under the surveillance of countless invisible visages, all scanning him curiously, and delighted beyond measure at the sight of his terror.
"The moments pa.s.sed in a breathless state of tension. He stared at the eyes, and the eyes stared back at him. Once he endeavoured to rise, but a dead weight seemed to fall on his shoulders and hold him back; and twice, when he tried to speak--to make some sound, no matter what, to break the appalling silence--his throat closed as if under the pressure of cruel, relentless fingers.
"But the _Ultima Thule_ of his emotions had yet to come. There was a slight stir behind the canvas, a thud, a hollow groan that echoed and re-echoed throughout the room like the m.u.f.fled clap of distant thunder, and the eyes suddenly underwent a metamorphosis--they grew glazed and gla.s.sy like the eyes of a dead person. A cold shudder ran through the Dean, his hair stood on end, his blood turned to ice. Again he essayed to move, to summon help; again he failed. The strain on his nerves proved more than he could bear. A sudden sensation of nausea surged through him; his eyes swam; his brain reeled; there was a loud buzzing in his ears; he knew no more. Some moments later one of the College servants arrived at the door with a bundle of letters, and on receiving no reply to his raps, entered.
""Good heavens! What"s the matter?" he cried, gazing at the figure of the Dean, lolling head downward on the table. "Merciful Prudence, the gentleman is dead! No, he ain"t--some of the young gents will be sorry enough for that--he"s fainted."
"The good fellow poured out some water in a tumbler, and was proceeding to sprinkle the Dean"s face with it, when, a noise attracting his attention, he peered round at the picture. It was bulging from the wall; it was falling! And, Good G.o.d, what was that that was falling with it--that huge black object? A coffin? No, not a coffin, but a corpse!
The servant ran to the door shrieking, and, in less than a minute, pa.s.sage and room were filled to overflowing with a scared crowd of enquiring officials and undergraduates.
""What has happened? What"s the matter with the Dean? Has he had a fit, or what? And the picture? And--Anderson? Anderson lying on the floor!
Hurt? No, not hurt, dead! Murdered!"