Engaged in this interesting and all-absorbing conversation, I suddenly became aware it was very late—the silence throughout the house for the first time appalled me, and I was about to make a movement towards the door to make sure all was safe without, when the light from the lamp once again became normal. With a startled glance I looked for the phantasm—it was gone; nor was there any other means by which it could have taken its departure save by dematerialisation.
Bitterly disappointed, my fears being now entirely removed, at so abrupt a disappearance, I sat down very calmly, and in the coolest manner canvassed over the whole matter to myself, reflected seriously on every particular, and was induced to conclude from the coherence and punctuality of the account that it was impossible it should be fiction or imposture. I laid particular stress upon the circumstance of the ring, the singularity of its motto, and the minute description of the spot where it was deposited.
I considered, moreover, from the tests I had made by shutting my eyes and pressing the balls with my forefinger, that I had been perfectly awake, had had the full use both of my senses and reason, and was as capable of knowing the figure and voice of a man as the size and print of the book I was reading at the time the ghost made its appearance.
In short, firmly persuaded of the truth of what I had heard and seen, I resolved on the morrow to search for the ring, and thereby clear it up beyond all possibility of doubt.
Accordingly on Monday morning early, between four and five o’clock, I set out alone, making directly to the spot the phantasm had described; found the ring without the least difficulty or delay; examined the motto and date of it, which corresponded exactly with his account of it, and fully convinced me of my obligation to communicate to the world the particulars of the whole.
With this resolution, immediately on my return I sat down and drew up the whole conversation as near as I could recollect, neither omitting nor adding any circumstance of consequence in the manner you now see it, and trusting it will prove of use to the public for whose benefit it seems intended.
The original manuscript, to which the author appends his name, concludes with a very fervid exhortation to piety, coupled with an equally strong warning against indulgence in vice and crime.
The story of the ghost, judging by the interest that is even now (1908) taken in it, must have created a considerable sensation at the time—so much so that I think a brief history of the crime—gruesome though it be—will bear repeating.
Prior to doing so, however, I should like to relate a ghostly experience that happened to me, Elliott O’Donnell, in the same neighbourhood, August 1904.
The village of Guilsborough is on an eminence 10 miles N.W. by N. of Northampton, 4 miles from the source of the Avon at Naseby, 10 miles N.E. from Daventry, 11 miles from Lutterworth, 10 miles S.S.W. from Market Harboro’, 12 miles E. from Rugby, and 76 miles from London.