“That I can scarcely tell you, but many years since; the old woman I
spoke of said it was haunted when she rented it, between thirty and
forty years ago. The fact is, that my life has been spent in the East
Indies, and in the civil service of the company. I returned to England
last year, on inheriting the fortune of an uncle, amongst whose
possessions was the house in question. I found it shut up and
uninhabited. I was told that it was haunted, and no one would inhabit
it. I smiled at what seemed to me so idle a story. I spent some money in
repainting and roofing it, added to its old-fashioned furniture a few
modern articles, advertised it, and obtained a lodger for a year. He was
a colonel retired on half pay. He came in with his family, a son and a
daughter, and four or five servants; they all left the house the next
day; and although they deponed that they had all seen something
different, that something was equally terrible to all. I really could
not in conscience sue, or even blame, the colonel for breach of
agreement. Then I put in the old woman I have spoken of, and she was
empowered to let the house in apartments. I never had one lodger who
stayed more than three days. I do not tell you their stories; to no two
lodgers have exactly the same phenomena been repeated. It is better that
you should judge for yourself, than enter the house with an imagination
influenced by previous narratives; only be prepared to see and to hear
something or other, and take whatever precautions you yourself please.”
“Have you never had a curiosity yourself to pass a night in that house?”
“Yes; I passed, not a night, but three hours in broad daylight alone in
that house. My curiosity is not satisfied, but it is quenched. I have no
desire to renew the experiment. You cannot complain, you see, sir, that
I am not sufficiently candid; and unless your interest be exceedingly
eager and your nerves unusually strong, I honestly add that I advise you
_not_ to pass a night in that house.”
“My interest _is_ exceedingly keen,” said I; “and though only a coward
will boast of his nerves in situations wholly unfamiliar to him, yet my
nerves have been seasoned in such variety of danger that I have the
right to rely on them, even in a haunted house.”
Mr. J---- said very little more; he took the keys of the house out of
his bureau, and gave them to me; and, thanking him cordially for his
frankness and his urbane concession to my wish, I carried off my prize.
Impatient for the experiment, as soon as I reached home I summoned my
confidential servant,--a young man of gay spirits, fearless temper, and
as free from superstitious prejudice as any one I could think of.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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