—Upon each stair the clear impression of a naked human Foot!"
"I hardly knew whether to feel relieved or not when I learned that the unknown was no ghost after all. Certainly not the vapory, unsubstantial kind that flit through mansions such as mine. Here was a being of solid, nay, gigantic proportions, as the creakings and huge footprints fully attested. I knew, though, that I would assuredly have the best of Dr. Matthai should he (or she) of the massive feet see fit to appear on the coming night.
"After carefully sweeping up the floor I shut up the house, and resolved to keep my own counsel. I breakfasted in Washington that morning, having, for obvious reasons, given our servant a holiday, and returned to A—— about five in the afternoon; dining later with Doctor Matthai, who met me at the station and very hospitably insisted upon my going home with him. Shortly after dinner I bade my host and his sister good-evening and went over to my own deserted dwelling. An hour or so after, Doctor Matthai came in. Both of us were armed, and I thought it singular that the doctor, who appeared to treat the whole affair as a joke, should have taken that precaution. We sat by the open fire in my dining-room, smoking; the doctor lingering somewhat mournfully upon the departed greatness of A—— which, it seems, had once been a town of considerable social and commercial importance. With reminiscence and ancedote the hours sped by, and it was nearly midnight when we retired.
"The doctor, sharing my bed, asked me to arouse him if I heard anything during the night. I slept fairly well until the clock on the mantel struck two, when I awoke with a start. Complete silence reigned, and I rolled over again for another nap. As I did so I heard a faint creaking sound on the upper stair!
"'Ah,' thought I, 'it is coming down.' And so it proved. I gave the doctor a violent nudge. He opened his eyes and looked at me stupidly.
"'Hush,' I whispered, 'don't you hear it? Don't you hear it?'
"'Yes, I do,' replied he, sitting up and peering into the darkness.
"Creak! Creak! Creak! Nearer 'It' came, and our floor was reached. Clutching his revolver, Doctor Matthai sprang out of bed and ran to the door. Then a horrible scream of terror and anguish rang through the house. An invisible hand seemed to drag the unfortunate man out of the room. There was a brief, desperate struggle on the landing, the creature went heavily down the stairs, and the street door shut with a bang!
"When I recovered to some extent from the panic of fear and trembling into which I was thrown by this awful and inexplicable occurrence, I hurriedly dressed, and seeing nothing of the doctor, went over at once to his cottage. Remembering his caution about Miss Regina, and not wishing to otherwise frighten her, I ran around to the alley at the rear of the grounds and climbed over the fence. The doctor's library and bedroom were adjoining apartments on the ground floor, and the long, low windows of each opened upon a porch at the side of the house. All the blinds were closed and securely fastened. I knocked on them several times, but there was no response, though a dim light was burning in the library. I heard some one moving inside, and for a moment I thought I heard the sound of voices in angry argument or expostulation. But of this I cannot be positive. I remained on the porch at least ten minutes, vainly trying to get into the rooms, then I gave it up and left the premises.
"My state of mind after the harrowing events of the night was indeed distressing. I did not—could not—return home. I have an indistinct recollection of walking swiftly up and down the deserted streets and far out into the country. Daylight found me several miles from the town; hatless, wild-eyed, a sorry spectacle, at whom one or two farmers, on their way to early market, gazed in amazement. When I turned back, the sun was high in the heavens. I went again to Doctor Matthai's. A crowd stood about the door. I was rudely seized and placed under arrest, charged—oh, my God!—with the murder of Doctor Matthai! The shockingly mutilated body had just been found in the hallway of the old house in Queen Anne Street! * * * I am innocent, innocent! Weeks—they seem centuries—pass, and I yet await trial. * * *
"George Delwyn Ploat, the writer of the above remarkable story, was hanged in the jailyard at A—— for the wilful and brutal murder of Doctor Ambrose Matthai, a retired practitioner of that place. The plea of insanity, so strongly urged by the prisoner's counsel, proved unavailing, and the condemned man paid the penalty for his crime on Friday morning last."
"You know what a story like that demands, I suppose," said Colonel Manysnifters, reaching for the button; "and as I seem to be the self-appointed chairman here, I will now call upon the gentleman from Michigan for a few remarks. I am sure that he will not disappoint us. Senator, we are waiting for you, sir."
"Very well," said Senator Hammond, "since there seems to be no escape, I will do the best I can."