The wily one--no matter how wily--cannot conceal the cloven
hoof for long, and he has either tried to thrust himself into the
bosom of my family, or has written to my neighbours declaring himself
to be my dearest friend; and when, in desperation, I have shown him
the cold shoulder, he has attacked me virulently in some "rag" of a
local paper, the proprietor, editor, or office-boy of which happens to
be one of his own clique. I have even known an instance where this
type of person has, through trickery, actually gained access to some
notoriously haunted house, and from its owners--the family he has long
had his eyes on, from a motive anything but psychic--has ferreted out
the secret and private history of the haunting. Then, when he has been
"found out" and forced to see that his friendship is not wanted, he
has, in revenge for the slight, unblushingly revealed the facts that
were only entrusted to him in the strictest confidence; and, through
influence with the lower stratum of the Press, caused a most glaring
and sensational account of the ghost to be published.
With such a case in view, I cannot be surprised that possessors of
family ghosts and haunted houses should show the greatest reluctance
to be approached on the subject, save by those they feel assured will
treat it with the utmost delicacy.
But I have quoted the above breach of confidence merely to give
another reason for my constant use of fictitious names with regard to
people and places, and having done so (I hope to some purpose), I will
proceed with the following story:--
Miss Dulcie Vincent, some of whose reminiscences appeared in my book
of _Ghostly Phenomena_ last year, is nearly connected with Lady Adela
Minkon, who owns a considerable amount of house property, including
No.
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