Living with them was a very pious old lady, also an uncle of mine. One dark, still night, my mother was sitting alone sewing when, suddenly, the room seemed to be filled with a rushing wind, and she experienced the feeling of a cold hand pressed upon her cheek, followed by a low wail and moan. She said nothing to the other inmates of the occurrence at the time. Two nights later, my father went to the pantry which was approached by a short passage. There by the door he saw standing the headless form of a man wearing a brown coat with large pearl buttons attached. After a few days had passed, the old lady asked my mother whether she thought there was in the house anyone who walked in his sleep as for several nights past, she had had her bedroom door opened and closed, and she distinctly heard footsteps along the landing and staircase. For two nights in succession my uncle got out of bed and closed his bedroom door three times each night. He examined the door and found it impossible to open without some aid. Each one of these inmates related to one another their experiences. They decided to keep watch for a few nights, but nothing happened. Needless to say, they soon quitted the house. Rumour followed that the place was once known as a house of ill-fame.