In the spring of 1901, my sister and her husband, Major Stewart, rented an old shooting lodge in Argyllshire. The place was charmingly situated, the shooting and fishing excellent, and the scenery around was noted for its romantic beauty. Though the main portion of the house was old, a new wing had been added for the sleeping accommodation of servants, and this arrangement shut them off at night from the ancient part of the dwelling. The original kitchen still remained in use. The servants had been sent on in advance to prepare the lodge, and when Major and Mrs. Stewart arrived they were at once confronted with the information that the place bore a very evil reputation. The villagers had not hesitated to prime the maids with all sorts of creepy stories, eminently calculated to cause their precipitate departure. Luckily for the master and mistress the maids had been with them for some years, and were neither of a timid age nor disposition, so the household settled comfortably down, in those long spring and summer days, which in the north means practically no darkness. My sister had banished the alleged hauntings from her mind, and probably the maids had done likewise, for all was going quietly and well, when suddenly, after a week's residence, there came a rude reminder. Major and Mrs. Stewart were both awakened one night by unmistakable sounds of very noisy burglars, who appeared to have broken into the house through the kitchen quarters. The major lit a candle, and looked at his watch. It was just on midnight. What puzzled them both was the noise the intruders made. Burglars naturally tread softly and stealthily, but these men stamped about in heavy boots, and were engaged in throwing about heavy articles. There seemed to be quite a number of accomplices involved in the enterprise, and they displayed an amazing indifference to detection. My sister and her husband decided that events could not be left to take their course. This matter must be looked into. The major armed himself with a loaded revolver. My sister armed herself with a lighted candle and a box of matches, and together they crept softly downstairs on their way to the kitchen. All this time the noises continued. Stamping of heavy feet, crashing down of heavy weights, but on the way downstairs a first glimmering that the supernatural came into this affair began to dawn upon my sister. She became aware that an invisible presence was following them. The noises continued as they cautiously and silently crept towards the kitchen. As they reached the door, suddenly utter silence fell. Inside nothing was disarranged. There were no signs of burglars, everything was as usual. Considerably mystified Major and Mrs. Stewart returned to bed, and were not disturbed again that night.