Some Haunted Houses of England & Wales. O'Donnell Elliott

she was preparing to make a precipitate rush for the stairs when a peculiar thumping riveted her attention.

      “Her blood congealed, her legs tottered, she could not move an inch. What was it?

      “Her heart—only the pulsations of her heart.

      “She burst out laughing. How truly ridiculous.

      “Catching her breath and casting fearful looks of apprehension on all sides, she advanced towards the stairs and ‘tiptoeing’ stealthily across the hall, tried in vain to keep her eyes from the clock. But its sonorous ticking brought her to a peremptory halt.

      “She stood and listened. Tick! tick! tick! It was so unlike any other ticking she had ever heard, it appalled her.

      “The clock, too, seemed to have become blacker and even more gigantic.

      “It reared itself above her like a monstrous coffin.

      “She was now too terrified to think of escape, and could only clutch hold of the bannisters in momentary terror of some fresh phenomenon.

      “In this helpless condition she watched the clock slowly increase in stature till its grotesquely carved summit all but swept the ceiling, whilst a pair of huge, toeless, grey feet protruded from beneath its base.

      “Nor were these the only changes, for during their accomplishment others of an equally alarming nature had taken place, and the ticking, after having passed through many transitional stages, was now replaced by a spasmodic breathing, forcibly suggestive of something devilish and bestial.

      “At this juncture words cannot convey any idea of what Christina suffered; nor had she seen the worst.

      “Midnight at length came. In dumb agony she watched the minute-hand slowly make its last circuit; there were twelve frantic clangs, the door concealing the pendulum flew open, and an enormous hand, ashy grey, with long, mal-shaped fingers, made a convulsive grab at her.[1] Swinging to one side, she narrowly avoided capture and, glancing upwards, saw something so diabolically awful that her heart turned to ice.

      “The face of the clock had disappeared, and in its place Christina saw a frightful head—grey and evil. It was very large and round, half human, half animal, and wholly beastly, with abnormally long, lidless eyes of pale blue that leered at the affrighted girl in the most sinister manner.

      “Such a creature must have owed its origin to Hell.

      “For some seconds she stared at it, too enthralled with horror even to breathe; and, then a sudden movement on its part breaking the spell, she regained control over her limbs and fled for her life.

      *****

      “Christina reported all this to me the next morning. She had narrowly escaped capture by darting through the front door which some one, fortunately for her, had forgotten to bolt. She had not returned to the house, but had, instead, passed the rest of the night in a neighbouring cottage.

      “ ‘I won’t, under any circumstances, sir,’ she added, ‘sleep here again. Indeed, I could not, because I can’t abide the presence of that clock. I shan’t feel easy until I am miles away from it—in some big town, where the bustle and noise of life may help me to forget it—FORGET it!!’—and she shuddered.

      “Partly as a compensation for what she had undergone and partly to avoid a scandal, I presented her with a substantial cheque.

      “Despite Mrs. Partridge’s pleadings, I kept the clock. I could not—I dare not—part with it. It was my aunt’s bequest—it fascinated me! Do you understand, O’Donnell?—it fascinated me.

      “But I did make one concession: I permitted them to remove it to the summer-house.

      “My first care now was to see that all the doors were locked, and windows bolted before retiring to bed; a precaution that was speedily justified.

      “For the next few nights after the removal of the clock I was awakened about twelve by a violent ringing of the front door bell, whilst a heavy crunching of the gravel beneath my window informed me our persecutor was trying to gain admittance.

      “These nocturnal disturbances ceasing, I had begun to congratulate myself upon having seen the last of the hauntings, when a rumour reached me that the clock had actually begun to infest the more lonely of the lanes and by-roads.

      “Nor did this report, as the sequel will show, long remain unverified.

      “My uncle John, a rare old ‘sport,’ came to stay with me. He arrived about ten, and we had not yet gone to bed when the vicar of the parish burst into our presence in the greatest state of agitation.

      “ ‘I must apologise for this late visit,’ he gasped, sinking into an easy chair, ‘I couldn’t get here before. Indeed, I did not intend calling this evening, and would not have done so but for an extraordinary incident that has just happened. Would you think it very unclerical if I were to ask you for a glass of neat brandy?’

      “I glanced at him in ill-disguised terror. His blanched cheeks and trembling hands told their own tale—he had seen the clock.

      “ ‘Thanks awfully,’ he said, replacing the empty glass on the table. ‘I feel better now—but, by jove! it DID unnerve me. Let me tell you from the beginning. I had been calling at Gillet’s Farm, which, as you know, is two or more miles from here, and the night being fine, I decided to go home by the fields. Well! all was right till I got to the little spinney lying at the foot of Dickson’s Hollow.

      “ ‘Even in broad daylight I always feel a trifle apprehensive before entering it, as it is often frequented by tramps and other doubtful characters: in fact, there isn’t a more murderous looking spot in the county.

      “ ‘All was so still, so unusually still I thought, and the shadows so incomprehensible that I had half a mind to retrace my steps, but, disliking to appear cowardly, and remembering, I must confess, that I had ordered a roast duck for supper, I climbed the wooden fence and plunged into the copse.

      “ ‘At every step the silence increased, the cracking of twigs under my feet sounding like the report of firearms, whilst it grew so dark that I had in certain places literally to feel my way. When about halfway through the wood the shrubs that line the path on either side abruptly terminate, bringing into view a circle of sward, partially covered with ferns and bracken, and having in its midst a stunted willow that has always struck me as being peculiarly out of place there.

      “ ‘Indeed, I was pondering over this incongruity when a tall figure stalked out from behind the tree, and, gliding swiftly forward, took to the path ahead of me.

      “ ‘I rubbed my eyes and stared in amazement, and no doubt you will think me mad when I tell you the figure was nothing human.’

      “ ‘What was it, then—an anthropoid ape?’ my Uncle John laughed.

      “The vicar shook his head solemnly.

      “ ‘I will describe it to you to the best of my ability,’ he said. ‘To begin with it was naked—stark, staring naked!’

      “ ‘How positively indecent,’ murmured Uncle John, ‘really vicar, I don’t wonder you were frightened.’

      “ ‘And then,’ the vicar continued, disregarding the interruption, ‘it was grey!—from head to foot a uniform livid grey.’

      “ ‘A grey monstrosity! Ah! now THAT is interesting!’

      “I looked at my uncle quizzically—was he still joking? But no! he was in sober earnest: could it be possible he knew anything about the clock.

      “I leaned back in my chair and smiled—feebly.

      “ ‘In height,’ the vicar went on, ‘it could not have been far from seven feet, it had an enormous round head crowned with a black mass of shock hair, no ears, huge spider-like hands and toeless feet.

      “ ‘I could not see its face as its back was turned on me.

      “