We had a maiden aunt who obtained a livelihood by visiting her relations. On the morning when our last domestic left she arrived, bag and baggage, greatly to our annoyance. We said nothing about the disturbances to her, but agreed among ourselves that she should sleep in the haunted chamber.
That night, about twelve o’clock, the household were awakened by a piercing scream above stairs. All was silent for a few minutes, when the house echoed with the startling cry of “Murder! Murder! Murder!” The accent was very strong on the last syllable in the last two words, as though the particular force of the exclamation was therein contained.
I hurried to the chamber and asked at the door what was the matter.
“I have seen an apparatus,” exclaimed my aunt. “Murder! Oh, wait a minute. I’m a dead woman.”
She unlocked the door in a delirious way and descended to the sitting-room, where she sat sobbing for a long time, declaring that she was a dead woman. She had heard his chain rattle.
And the next morning she likewise left.
We now felt uneasy ourselves, and wondered what marvel the following night would produce. I examined the room carefully during the day, but could discover no traces of anything unusual.
That night we were again awakened by noises that proceeded from the same room. They seemed like the footfalls of a person whose feet were clad in iron. Then followed sounds like a scuffle.