“Prior to leaving the inn next day I learned from my host that the hollow was known to be haunted, and, on that account, was universally shunned after sunset. Half a century ago the ruins--then a neat grey cottage--had been inhabited by the Evanses, a bad, thriftless ‘lot.’ “At the instigation of her husband, and with the motive of robbery, Mrs. Evans, a buxom woman--handsome in a bad bold style--had flirted openly with a pedlar, known locally as ‘Black Dave.’ “This man was easily induced to put up at their house, and his suspicions being lulled to rest by the amorous overtures of the woman, he was surprised in his sleep and butchered. “Fearing, however, either to commit the body to the river or bury it in their garden lest it should be found, and being at the time very hard pressed for food--they improvised an oven in the earth and ate it! “The vengeance of Heaven was, however, close on their track; the cottage, paid for out of their ill-gotten gains, caught fire during a drunken carousal, and Mrs. Evans was burned to death, whilst her husband only lingered long enough to make a full confession of the crime. “The house was never rebuilt; the phantasm of Dave, in the disgusting guise in which he appeared to me, still haunts the precincts, and, delighting to gull unsuspecting wayfarers, leads them out of their proper courses, guiding them with a fiendish skill to the black ruin--the scene of his ghastly murder.” CATCHFIELD HALL, THE MIDLANDS THE TERRIBLE HEADS THAT RISE THROUGH THE FLOOR Technical form of apparitions: Phantoms of the dead Source of authenticity: Accumulative hearsay evidence No. -- THE TERRACE, WORCESTER. _March 1, 1908._ DEAR MR. ELLIOTT O’DONNELL, I thought you would be interested to hear I met Mrs. Blake last night at the Stowes, where I got out of her with no small amount of pumping an account of “what she saw” at that notorious ball at Catchfield some years ago. It is very horrible, too horrible, perhaps even for such a “spook gourmand” as you. Of course all the names I have given you are fictitious. You know there have been several libel cases lately, in connection with haunted houses so that one cannot be too careful. &c. &c. &c. Yours sincerely, EVELYN D. O’GRADY. THE STORY My invitation to spend the Christmas holidays with Lady Wentworth came as a delightful surprise. Imagine me a poor, insignificant little schoolmistress in St. Rudolphs, suddenly blossoming out into a much envied guest at Catchfield. Who can blame me if I indulged in a momentary outburst of pride? So far my lot in life had not been all _couleur de rose_. Losing my husband shortly after our marriage, I had been obliged to do something for a bare living.