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O'Donnell, Elliott, 1872-1965

"Scottish Ghost Stories"

Poison. Good-bye, Hely. I shall
rest in peace now.' The voice stopped; there was a rush of cold air,
laden with the scent of the drug, and tainted, faintly tainted, with
the nauseating smell of the grave, and--the face on the pillow
vanished. How I got through the remainder of the night I cannot say--I
dare not think. I dare only remember that I did not sleep. I was
devoted to Ralph, and the thought that he had perished in the
miserable manner suggested by the apparition, completely prostrated
me. In the morning I received a black-edged letter from my mother,
stating that she had just heard from Dolly, my brother's wife, saying
Ralph had died from cancer in the throat. Dolly added in a postscript
that her dearly beloved Ralph had been very good to her, and left her
well provided for. Of course, we might have had the body exhumed, but
we were poor, and Ralph's widow was rich; and in America, you know,
everything goes in favour of the dollars. Hence we were obliged to let
the matter drop, sincerely trusting Dolly would never take it into her
head to visit us. She never did. My mother died last year--I felt her
death terribly, O'Donnell; and as I no longer have any fixed abode,
but am always touring the British provinces, there is not much fear
of Ralph's murderess and I meeting. It is rather odd, however, that
after my own experience at the hotel, I heard that it had borne the
reputation for being haunted for many years, and that a good many
visitors who had passed the night in one of the rooms (presumably
mine) had complained of hearing strange noises and having dreadful
dreams.


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