“At all times, and when we least expect it,” Mrs. Rowlandson said. “For example, if I am going upstairs alone, it either springs out at me or peers down at me from over the banisters. Or, again, it rouses us in the middle of the night by rocking our bed! Always some alarming trick of that kind.”
“Then you could hardly expect it to manifest itself if we all sat here in the dark?”
“Hardly.”
“You haven’t a photograph of Mr. Dekon, I suppose?” I hazarded.
“A photograph of that scoundrel,” Mr. Rowlandson cried. “If he had given her one, it wouldn’t have remained long in her possession, I can assure you.”
“Well, he never did,” Mrs. Rowlandson said, forcing a smile, “but I can describe him.”
“I don’t know whether that will do much good,” I observed. “Because I understand that if one of the lower order of earthbounds, usually called Elementals, wanted to ‘fool’ us, it could easily impersonate him. Dekon’s phantom would not, of necessity, be very like his material body; it would depend entirely on how much of the animal there was in him; if a great deal, then one might expect to see a creature with a pig’s, or some other kind of beast’s, head, with only a slight facial resemblance to Dekon. Can you describe his hands? Because I believe spirits that have lost all other resemblance with the physical body might be identified by some peculiarity in the formation of the fingers.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Rowlandson said; “I do remember his hands distinctly. They were so ugly! They were long, and red, and the tips were club-shaped; I am sure I should recognise them anywhere.”
This conversation took place in the interval between tea and dinner. After dinner we sat in the drawing-room, discussing plans for the night, and finally came to the conclusion that when bed-time came we should retire to our respective rooms, and sit there in the dark, waiting and watching for whatever might happen. It was furthermore agreed that directly anyone saw or heard anything, they should at once summon the others.
We sat up rather late, and it was close on midnight before Mrs. Rowlandson rose, and we all—there were two guests besides myself, a Colonel and Mrs. Rushworth—took our candlesticks, and followed her upstairs. We had mounted the first flight, and had turned the bend leading to the second—the house seemed all stairs—when Mrs. Rowlandson halted, and, looking back at us, said, “Hush! Do you hear anything?”