Night Stalks The Mansion: A True Story Of One Family's Ghostly Adventure (6 page)

"I just feel that we haven't exhausted all possibilities and
that some perverted mind may be at the bottom of these
disturbances."

"There may be a secret entrance to this place -a secret
tunnel. Someone in the area may have a private reason for
wanting the premises empty," Bob cried out. "It could even
be a dope smuggling headquarters or somethingl"

"Hardly that," I demurred. "Otherwise we wouldn't be
forced to stay here under the lease. But I think you're right
and we'd better go to work."

And go to work we did. We made a thorough search of
the mansion, inside and out. We tapped walls to find a
hollow echo that would indicate a secret room or hallway.
We paced over every foot of the grounds-even down by
the creek-in search of an old, forgotten tunnel entrance
to an underground passage.

As an added precaution, I secured the house so that
entrance was impossible without the cooperation of someone inside. I put on new locks and added a hasp lock and
a barrel bolt to every door. Both back entrances locked
from the inside. There were bars across the library windows
and the door leading to the outside yard from the library
was locked and nailed shut with a twenty pound spike. I
also had a string of lights installed in the basement that
could be turned on from the kitchen to brighten every room
and crevice down there.

After securing the house, I took one more precaution.
I bought Ching and Chang, two five-month-old chow
puppies. These dogs are fierce, but highly intelligent and
very easy to train and are phenomenally loyal to a family,
especially the children. I felt safe with these two massivejawed animals guarding the house.

If the owners of the nightly footsteps were clever and
elusive enough to escape our detection, they certainly
wouldn't get past Ching and Chang!

Thank heaven the smells, sounds, and steps weren't a daily
occurrence. Things would be quiet for a few days and
then the footsteps would resume-either inside the house
or out on the graveled path. We might sleep soundly for
four or five nights and then be awakened by the offensive
stench. When this happened we resignedly moved out of
the area and waited for the odor to dissipate. We set up a
daily routine and tried to live normally-if anything could
be called "normal" under the circumstances. Hal and Bob
were now in college and commuted daily in their own car
except for the times they stayed over for some social or
athletic event. I was home every minute that I could be.

There were even a few applicants for the positions we
had listed with the local employment agency. We had always
been particular about the type of help in our home and had never had any trouble in this respect. It soon became
apparent, however, that we would have to take what help
we could get. The first two hired were not from the area
but could best be termed "drifters" if we were correctly
interpreting their answers. However, they seemed respectable
enough. They answered to the names of Mary and Clyde
Simmons.

Clyde was tall, silent, nervous and thin. Mary was short,
placid, voluble and fat. She was also the spokesman for the
team. Her sentences invariably began with "Me and Clydewe think-" or "Me and Clyde-we like-." This continued
to the point where we privately referred to the man as
"Simmons" and to his wife as "Me and Clyde." They both
used so much snuff that the odor was noticeable -not only
around their persons-but also when the door leading to
the servants' quarters was opened.

They were both fair workers and we had no fault to find
with them. Unfortunately, they complained about us. I
came downstairs for the breakfast that Mary had prepared
while Dorothy got a few more moments of needed rest.
Simmons was already at the table and looked glum. He
refused to respond to my cheerful greeting.

Me and Clyde spoke first. "Mr. Cameron, we're leavin'
today."

I was shocked. "Leaving?" I echoed. "But why? You
haven't been here long enough to decide if you really like us."

"I don't like being spied on -not in my own bed, I don't."

"Ohl" I replied lamely. So that was what it wasl What
could I say?

"Mary," I finally went on defensively. "No one here is
spying on you. Neither Mrs. Cameron nor I would do such
a thingl Your quarters are your own. We wouldn't think of
bothering you there-not unless we had something important to say and knocked first-and were invited inl"

I said the wrong thing.

"You don't knock - and then disappear?" Her eyes narrowed speculatively.

"Of course not!" I answered stoutly.

She gave me a thoughtful look. "If neither you or the
Missus is spying on us - if you don't knock and then go away
before I can get to the door-then I don't even want to
know what it isl"

I said nothing.

"Anyways, Mr. Cameron, Me and Clyde are leaving. We
like the family fine but we don't exactly like this house.
'Sides, we have relatives in Tennessee. We're goin' to
visit 'em."

Leave they did-almost immediately-in the old car that
had brought them to our door in the first place.

"Now what?" I asked Dorothy rather helplessly.

She sighed. "At least I got the house cleaned properly
and a pile of ironing done," she said. "We'll just have to
try again."

During our first month in the house, I would rush home
from work to check on Dorothy and the kids. When I found
them safe and unharmed, I began to relax. Perhaps Bob
was right. Nothing seemed about to physically injure us,
in or around the house. I think my greatest contribution
to the situation at this time was my insistence on keeping
an objective, scientific attitude toward the phenomena we
were experiencing. Dorothy cooperated with me in this,
keeping us all calm in the wake of the midnight walks and
unseen footsteps. She believed that someone, somewhere,
was protecting the family. At times, though, we slipped up
in our resolve to be always cool and collected. Carrol's
ordeal was one of those times.

It was shortly after Me and Clyde and her spouse, Simmons, had left us that Dorothy and I found it necessary to
be away from the house one evening. We didn't worry about
Carrol because his brothers were due back from an outing late that afternoon and nothing would bother our youngest
son in the day time. When we drove home that evening,
however, we saw that the older boys' car was not parked in
its usual place.

"Where have they all gone?" Dorothy wondered aloud.
"It isn't like them to leave with all the lights onl" Janet and
Michael had been left at the baby sitter's and were now in
the car with us.

When we opened the front door we could see straight
down the hall. There, sitting rigidly in a chair against the
wall, was Carrol with a rifle across his knees. It was then
that we realized that his brothers had not yet come home
and he had been alone in the house for several hours.

Carrol surrendered the rifle to me without a word, but
his lips were trembling.

"I'm sorry, son," I said contritely. "I didn't realize that
you would be here alone. I thought your brothers would be
with you. Otherwise-"

"Otherwise," Dorothy interrupted swiftly, "we would
never have gone-no matter how important our business
was!"

Carrol was shaken, but game. "Who said I was alone?"
he countered with a pitiful attempt at a smile, as he told
us what had happened.

Realizing that he was going to be by himself in the house
after dark, he turned on all the lights, but that hadn't really
been much comfort. He heard footsteps and was aware of
a presence in the house. Finally, he went for the gun. Then
he settled himself down to wait until someone - his brothers
or his parents - arrived home.

In the midst of his fear and confusion, he heard the
chows barking outside. There was a loud banging on the
kitchen door.

"Anybody home?" a voice yelled. "Call off these damned
dogsl"

Carrol wavered between a determination to ignore the
noise and a feeling that he should be man enough to investigate. He heard the words and reminded himself that
voices were something we had never heard from our unseen
visitors. He decided to open the door, but kept the gun in
his hand.

A man stood there in the twilight. He was dirty and disreputable looking and held a jug in his hand. It was difficult to say which of the two was more startled - Carrol, who
had feared that he wouldn't be confronted by a real person -
or the man, who certainly hadn't expected to be met by a
boy and a rifle.

"What do you want?" Carrol demanded. He told us later
that he wanted to be sure that this man spoke in a voice he
could hear, so his own words had been loud and angry.

"I just w-wanted to f-fill my jug with water, sonny," the
stranger gulped. "Is it all right?" He eyed the gun uncertainly and edged a few steps backward.

"It's all right," Carrol managed to mumble. "Come on in."

Under Carrol's watchful eye the man quickly filled his
jug at the kitchen sink, still watching Carrol and the gun.
Then he just as quickly went to the door.

"Thanks ... thanks a lot, sonny," he said in a confused
sort of way. At the door he paused.

"Can you really shoot that thing?" he asked.

"I can shoot it," replied Carrol grimly.

"But what-why-?"

Carrol realized that some sort of explanation was in
order. People didn't usually answer a door with gun in hand.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said quietly. "I thought you might be
a ghost."

"A ghost?" The man's voice went up a full octave. "Me?"

"I can see now that you aren't, of course," Carrol replied.
"But we have them around here."

"Ghosts?" The man looked beyond Carrol into the hall. Then he half-ran from the house and tore around to the
front drive, the jug wobbling in his hand.

Carrol relocked the back door. Then he went back to his
position in the hall. Even though one interruption had
proved to be entirely normal, he wasn't taking any chances.
He didn't stop to think that an unseen entity would hardly
have been intimidated by a gun. He remained tense and
alert until he heard the sound of our car in the driveway
and, a few seconds later, our voices in the hall. He was weak
with relief at our arrival or he would probably have come
rushing to meet us. As it was, his knees were trembling and
he just sat there until I took the gun from him.

When Bob and Hal arrived a few moments later they
were as upset as I was about Carrol's experience. They said
they'd tried to phone to let us know they would be delayed,
but there had been no answer.

"Where were you, anyway?" Hal asked Carrol crossly. I
knew his irritation stemmed from his own worry and remorse

"Out in the yard with the dogs, I guess. I didn't hear the
phone."

"We just thought you'd all gone some place together,"
Bob said, "Otherwise, we'd never have stopped to eat on
our way home."

After the two youngest children had been put to bed I
decided it was time to call another family conference. Again
we sat in the library and again I had their undivided
attention.

"I think it's time we compared notes," I said. "I'm open
to any new ideas or suggestions. Carrol just didn't imagine
he heard those footsteps in the house and we're not going
to insult him by suggesting that he did."

"Well, I've got one idea right now," Hal volunteered
"But if it was just floated to me, I'd like to know which side
it's coming from."

I was curious. "Let's have it."

"Well, we hear them, don't we? We don't see them, but
we hear them all right. Now why can't they hear us?"

"What makes you think they don't?" Bob asked. "They
know when we're around. They know what room to go into
when we're trying to sleep."

"They hear," Hal agreed, "or they sense us in some way.
But they don't listenl Why don't we all try to get them to
listen to us for a change?"

Dorothy's forehead puckered in concentration. "You
mean have a meeting of the minds?"

"Sort of."

I thought over the suggestion. I could find nothing wrong
with it-and, perhaps, a great deal to recommend it.

"Then I'll call this meeting to order," I announced. "We
are here in the library. That, itself, seems to be important."

We had, by mutual consent, avoided the library which
should have been the most pleasant room in the house. But
once we had become settled in our new quarters, the library
was the room that had troubled us the most. We were not
comfortable while in it. It was in the library that our lady's
footsteps were first heard and she seemed to spend a great
deal of time there. The library door had opened by itself
on numerous occasions. Finally it was placed off limits by
unspoken agreement and we kept the door closed-when
we could.

Now, seated in that room with only one small light burning, I felt it might be the proper thing to open the conference with prayer but I didn't know how to start. I was too
self-conscious. The only words that came to mind at the
moment were from the Grace before meals: "For what we
are about to receive, 0 Lord, make us duly grateful." I
decided that was hardly appropriate for this meeting. While
not exactly tempting Providence, something less than a
benevolent spirit might be stirred by those words.

We agreed to merely sit quietly until we felt a "presence" of some sort. I don't attribute it to our combined imaginations that this feeling wasn't long in coming. The boys
moved restlessly. I felt that something was there and when
I glanced over at Dorothy, she nodded her head slightly.
Perhaps this something had been there all along. I started
to talk.

"We know you are here. We don't know who you are or
why you are here. We don't know, either, why you keep
hanging around this place."