“‘But now comes the extraordinary part of the affair. The grey figure our friend the vicar has just described to us tallies exactly with the phantasm that used to haunt Kleogh, and which the Blakes have always regarded in the light of a family ghost. “‘Now it would appear that they are entirely wrong--that it is with the clock and not Kleogh this apparition is connected--a fact that is not at all surprising when we come to consider its origin and the vast antiquity of its frame. “‘But let us examine it more carefully to-morrow.’ “We did so, and discovered that the frontal pillars on either side of the face of the clock consisted of two highly polished femur-bones which, although blackened through countless ages of immersion in the bog, and abnormally long (as is inevitably the case with Paleolithic man), were very unmistakably human. * * * * * “I returned the clock anonymously to Kelly’s.”[2] [2] A solution as to the nature of this type of ghost will appear in a subsequent volume. NO. -- PARK STREET, BATH THE HORRIBLE COUGHING ON THE STAIRS Technical form of apparition: Phantasm of the dead Cause of haunting: Murder Source of authenticity: Reliable hearsay evidence Bath is a veritable cockpit of Ghostdom; its grey and venerable mansions abound in ghosts; it is for its size the most psychic town in England. I say this because I have at my elbow no less than twenty-five well authenticated stories of haunted houses in this city: a collection that is numerically superior to that of any other town in England, saving London, and to the ghosts of London there is, as I stated at my recent lecture in Chandos Street, no end--positively no end. One evening last January I read a paper on “My Superphysical Experiences” before an extremely intelligent, and, I venture to say, appreciative audience of Theosophists, at their headquarters, Argyll Street, Bath. Among the number was a gentleman--quite a stranger I believe--who gave me his card and asked me to call on him next day. I did so, and in the course of a very entertaining chat he narrated to me the following story: “Some years ago some friends of mine, named Hartley, took a house in Park Street, which, as you may know, is built on the side of a hill. “The house suited them; it was warm, dry, and in a very tolerable state of repair; it was also in a quiet and thoroughly respectable part of the town, and the rent was low--ridiculously low--so low, indeed, that they began to wonder why it was so low. “Anxious to find out if their neighbours were equally fortunate in the matter of rent, they made enquiries, and learned to their astonishment that every other house in the row was let at more than double the price of theirs. “Why was this? Was their landlord a philanthropist, a Carnegie, a madman, or what?