"Mr Elliott O'Donnell, the Baroness Paoli. Mr Elliott O'Donnell is a writer on the superphysical. He is unlike the majority of psychical researchers, inasmuch as he has not based his knowledge on hearsay, but has actually seen, heard, and felt occult phenomena, both collectively and individually." The Baroness smiled. "Then I am delighted to meet Mr O'Donnell, for I, too, have had experience with the superphysical." She extended her hand; the introduction was over. A man in my line of life has to work hard. My motto is promptness. I have no time to waste on superfluity of any kind. I come to the point at once. Consequently, my first remark to the Baroness was direct from the shoulder: "Your experiences. Please tell them--they will be both interesting and useful." The Baroness gently clasped her hands--truly psychic hands, with slender fingers and long shapely nails--and, looking at me fixedly, said: "If you write about it, promise that you will not mention names." "They shall at all events be unrecognisable," I said. "Please begin." And without further delay the Baroness commenced her story. "You must know," she said, "that in my family, as in most historical families--particularly Corsican--there have been many tragedies. In some cases merely orthodox tragedies--a smile, a blow, a groan; in other cases peculiar tragedies--peculiar even in that country and in the grimness of the mediæval age. "Since 1316 the headquarters of my branch of the Paolis has been at Sartoris, once the strongest fortified castle in Corsica, but now, alas! almost past repair, in fact little better than a heap of crumbling ruins. As you know, Mr O'Donnell, it takes a vast fortune to keep such a place merely habitable. "I lived there with my mother until my marriage two years ago, and neither she nor I had ever seen or heard any superphysical manifestations. From time to time some of the servants complained of odd noises, and there was one room which none of them would pass alone even in daylight; but we laughed at their fears, merely attributing them to the superstition which is so common among the Corsican peasants. "The year after my marriage, my husband, a Mr Vercoe, who was a great friend of ours, and I, accepted my mother's invitation to spend Christmas with her, and we all three travelled together to Sartoris. "It was an ideal season, and the snow--an exceptional sight in my native town--lay thick in the Castle grounds. "But to get on with my story--for I see I must not try your patience with unnecessary detail--I must give you a brief description of the bedroom in which my husband and I slept. Like all the rooms in the Castle, it was oak panelled throughout. Floor, ceiling, and walls, all were of oak, and the bed, also of oak, and certainly of no later date than the fourteenth century, was superbly carved, and had been recently valued at £30,000.