§ 11. There is a legend of a Sir Richard Baker, who was surnamed _Bloody Baker_, wherein a ring bears its part.[244] This Sir Richard Baker was buried in Cranbrook church, Kent, England, and his gauntlet, gloves, helmet and spurs are suspended over his tomb. The gloves are red. The Baker family had formerly large possessions in Cranbrook; but in the reign of Edward VI. great misfortunes fell on them; by extravagance and dissipation they gradually lost all their lands, until an old house in the village (now used as the poor-house) was all that remained to them. The sole representative of the family remaining at the accession of Queen Mary was Sir Richard Baker. He had spent some years abroad in consequence of a duel; but when Mary reigned he thought he might safely return, as he was a papist; when he came to Cranbrook, he took up his abode in his old house; he brought one foreign servant with him; and only these two lived there. Very soon strange stories began to be whispered respecting unearthly shrieks having been heard frequently to issue at nightfall from his house. Many people of importance were stopped and robbed in the Glastonbury woods and many unfortunate travellers were missed and never heard of more. Richard Baker still continued to live in seclusion, but he gradually repurchased his alienated property, although he was known to have spent all he possessed before he left England. But wickedness was not always to prosper. He formed an apparent attachment to a young lady in the neighborhood, remarkable for always wearing a great many jewels. He often pressed her to come and see his old house, telling her he had many curious things he wished to show her. She had always resisted fixing a day for her visit, but happening to walk within a short distance of his house, she determined to surprise him with a visit; her companion, a lady older than herself, endeavored to dissuade her from doing so, but she would not be turned from her purpose. They knocked at the door, but no one answered them; they, however, discovered it was not locked and determined to enter. At the head of the stairs hung a parrot which, on their passing, cried out: “Peepoh, pretty lady, be not too bold, Or your red blood will soon run cold.”