Naturally I was now much interested. The clammy and creepy feeling, that had come over me at first, had entirely ceased. I was enmeshed in what seemed a supernatural web that presented fascinating possibilities. I looked at my watch which I held in the bright moonbeam from the window and saw that it was exactly midnight. At that moment I heard an unearthly sound that I judged was issuing from the top of the tower. It was a loud prolonged wail that ended in a dismal shriek and a high treble, and was repeated three times. I repressed a slight return of the creepy feeling, resumed my seat on the box, and patiently awaited further developments. Heavy thumping noises became audible from the big water pipes in the tower and reverberated away through the underground routes of the smaller pipes. It occurred to me that the ghost might have decided to take a plunge in the large tank in the upper part of the structure, or was preparing to pull it all down, or something of that kind, and I did not feel that I wanted to be among the debris. To use a favorite expression of one of my English friends, all this was “getting a bit thick.” I was again apprehensive and was tempted to slip quietly away, but was somewhat reassured when I saw the vapory wisps stealing back through the stairway opening. I was surprised to see them trail on down, becoming fainter and thinner, and disappear into the little hole at the base of the stanchion.
“THERE WAS A SORT OF INDEFINABLE REMOTENESS AND ALOOFNESS ABOUT HIM”
In the course of a few minutes the wraithy waves reappeared and I soon saw the kindly old face peering over at me from above the high stairway rail.
There was a sort of indefinable remoteness and aloofness about him—something abstract and far away—that seemed to discourage any familiarity, and I waited for him to speak first, as I felt embarrassed and in doubt as to how further conversation was to be conducted.
“I am very sorry if you have had any unpleasant sensations after what has just happened,” he began, after a few vague vibrations of the cloudy veil, that might have been shifted slightly to insure comfort on the stairway, “but it was necessary for me to float to the top of the tower at exactly midnight for a manifestation, and I retired into the crypt below for a moment afterwards to partake of a light draught from a phantom flagon that I keep there. Like the widow’s cruse of oil mentioned in the scriptures, my flagon is always full, and you will at once perceive that in my immaterial state I enjoy some priceless advantages. My flagon affords me much consolation. The contents might seem a little musty to you if you were down there, but I assure you that the liquid was once of the very highest quality. I found it here when I came. Evidently something was once kept in that flagon that had highly reactive qualities—something like the kick of a mad bull—but this element had long been latent when I found it. I hope that you are perfectly comfortable down there. If you feel cold I can easily warm you up with some sensations that you probably have never experienced.”
I assured him that I was quite contented and did not require any more sensations than I was having, and begged him not to worry about me at all.
“You probably would like to know something about me and how I happen to be haunting this tower,” he continued. “It’s quite a long story, but I think you’ll enjoy it. If there are any points in the narration that appear obscure to you, or any that you wish particularly to discuss, please don’t hesitate to interrupt me, as it’s no trouble to talk about my experiences, and there’s plenty of time, as long as we finish before daylight. If we should forget ourselves, and too much light should come, I may fade away quietly and become silent, but don’t be surprised or offended in any way, for if circumstances permit we can easily meet again and continue our little talk.
“My earthly name was Emric Szapolyai, and I died in Hungary in 1489. Measured by your standards that was a long time ago, but among the spirit fraternity time does not cut any particular figure, so, as far as my relationships in the abstract world are concerned, I might just as well have died hundreds of years before that or hundreds of years later.
“You may have difficulty at first in pronouncing my last name correctly, but if you sneeze slightly and try to say ‘Apollonaris’ while you are doing it, you will probably get it. I notice that a great many people in the material world are doing this now. Sometimes they get it and sometimes they don’t.”