“I saw written on the paper, in a sprawling hand, the words, ‘Leave this House!’ and I knew then that somebody had been in the room.
“I got up and tried the door. It was still locked and the key was in the hole, just as I had left it. The windows hadn’t been touched, apparently. How, then, had the person entered our room?
“My husband, of course, insisted it was not a living being, but a ghost, who could pass through a locked door as though it didn’t exist. And, as before, he refused to look for it.
“Next day, however, with our cook and houseman, I thoroughly searched the house from top to bottom—and found nothing. No trace of anybody having entered the house. Nothing wrong anywhere.
“On Saturday night I was awakened again—this time by a frantic knocking on our bedroom door. I sat up, startled. My husband was sleeping soundly, exhausted after two sleepless nights.
“I slipped quietly from bed, without disturbing him, and tiptoed to the door and whispered through the panel:
“‘Who’s there?’
“The cook’s voice answered, and I could tell by her tone she was terribly frightened:
“‘It’s me, ma’am. I’m leavin’ this house tonight. I won’t stay here another minute!’