I snatched at her hat. It
melted away in my hands, and, to my unspeakable terror, my undying
terror, I looked into the face of a corpse!--the corpse of a Hindoo
child, with a big, gaping cut in its throat. In its lifetime the child
had, without doubt, been lovely; it was now horrible--horrible with
all the ghastly disfigurements, the repellent disfigurements, of a
long consignment to the grave. I fainted, and, on recovering, found my
ghostly visitor had vanished, and that my patient was dead. One of
her hands was thrown across her eyes, as if to shut out some object on
which she feared to look, whilst the other grasped the counterpane
convulsively.
It fell to my duty to help pack up her belongings, and among her
letters was a large envelope bearing the postmark "Quetta." As we were
on the look-out for some clue as to the address of her relatives, I
opened it. It was merely the cabinet-size photograph of a Hindoo
child, but I recognised the dress immediately--it was that of my
ghostly visitor. On the back of it were these words: "Natalie. May God
forgive us both."
Though we made careful inquiries for any information as to Natalie and
Miss Vining in Quetta, and advertised freely in the leading London
papers, we learned nothing, and in time we were forced to let the
matter drop. As far as I know, the ghost of the Hindoo child has never
been seen again, but I have heard that the hotel is still
haunted--haunted by a woman.
CASE XVII
GLAMIS CASTLE
Of all the hauntings in Scotland, none has gained such widespread
notoriety as the hauntings of Glamis Castle, the seat of the Earl of
Strathmore and Kinghorne in Forfarshire.
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