Night Stalks The Mansion: A True Story Of One Family's Ghostly Adventure (8 page)

I grinned. "They wouldn't steal a purse, but I've known
cattle to vanish into thin air. But go onl"

She took a deep breath. "I wanted a cigarette but I had
left them on the telephone table in the hall. I didn't want
to wake Larry or disturb the rest of you so I didn't turn on
the lights. I knew the layout of the house. I just went down
the stairs and straight down the hall to the table. I had the
feeling that the library door was open and you said you
always kept it closed, but I didn't think about it until later.
I was fumbling for the cigarettes and finally found them
and - well - I heard someone there in the hall. The footsteps came across to where I stood."

"So?"

"I knew it wasn't any of you or you would have answered
when I asked who it was. But somebody just walked over
to me and stood there in the dark. It was a woman, I'm
sure. She had slippers on her feet. Harold, she was so close
that I could hear her breathing!"

I smiled a little. "No, you didn't, sis. You didn't hear this
one breathing. What did you do then?"

"Do?" she echoed shrilly. "I ran -that's what I did. I ran
up those stairs in the dark, locked the bedroom door and
climbed into bed with Larryl I stayed there all night with
my face to the wall and head covered. That's what I didl I
thought morning would never comet"

Dorothy absently guided the spoon to Michael's waiting
mouth as I was silent for a moment or two, wondering where to start. Elda Clare evidently misinterpreted my attitude for one of disbelief for she burst out indignantly, "Don't
you dare say it was just my imagination) It really happened
- and nothing like that ever happened to me before in my
whole life)"

I sighed again. "I think it's time we had a little talk,"
I told her.

"But do you believe me?" she demanded.

"Yes, I believe you. Listen to me, nowt" So I talked and
she listened - incredulously at first and then with mounting
indignation.

"Why didn't you warn me?" she demanded when I had
finished. "Why did you let me walk right into it?"

I was a little uncomfortable. Come to think of it, that
was my usual state of mind when I was forced to explain
about our unseen residents.

"Well, honey, if you hadn't come down in the night and
hadn't been so close to the library, you might never have
known anything about it," I told her. "Sometimes we hear
this woman-sometimes we don't. Besides, would you have
believed me before you experienced it for yourself?"

She was honest. "I probably would have thought you had
rocks in your head," she finally admitted. Then her customary smile broke through. "Now that I know the truth,
I feel better. At least I'm not the only one with rocks!"

"You have plenty of company," I assured her and there
was a relieved smile on Dorothy's face.

"I think I'm hungry," Elda Clare announced. "You and
Dorothy act so matter of fact about this that it must be an
ordinary occurrence. How about telling me more while I
eat breakfast and before the girls come down?"

So I told about the visitations in our bedrooms, the frightened servants, the footsteps on the gravel when Joe and
Carrol were camping out and the whimpering dogs. I
wouldn't have blamed her when I finished the recital if she had cut her visit short. However, the situation appealed to
her sense of adventure. She joined in our ritual of tapping
walls and checking doors and windows. She listened avidly
while we gathered around the kitchen table at night and
told of our other experiences.

During one of these sessions Elda Clare happened to have
her eyes on the basement door and stopped suddenly in the
middle of a lively recital of an experience she had undergone with a half-broken pony. She stared incredulously and
then indicated what had caught her attention by wordlessly
pointing her finger in that direction. We turned in our
chairs and saw that the doorknob of the basement door
was turning slowly back and forth. The door was locked
and further secured by a bolt on the kitchen side.

Gesturing for silence, I found two flashlights to help with
illumination in the shadowy basement as the bright new
lights had not, as yet, been installed. Then I moved quickly
to the door, unbolted it, and flung it open. No one could
be seen by the beam from the flashlights or by the old globe
hanging from the ceiling when I finally pulled the string.
We went on down the stairs, keeping close together for
moral support and made a thorough search of the entire
premises. There was no one there.

Somewhat subdued, we went back upstairs and relocked
the door, agreeing to make another search in the comfortable light of day.

"But just look at those windows, Harold," Elda Clare
said soberly when we again gathered in the basement the
next morning. "They all have iron bars across them that
are set in cement. No one could get in that way. That only
leaves the coal chute."

"And that's way up at outside ground level," I pointed
out. "You'd need a ladder to reach it from this basement
floor. Besides, it has a heavy iron grating over it and that is
secured."

"No one could have escaped, anyway," Hal observed. "It
was only a matter of seconds until we had that door open
and went down with flashlights."

Elda Clare shivered. "It's certainly uncanny," she admitted.
"Even now if anyone should ask me if I believed in ghosts,
I'd probably say I didn't. But I'm afraid that would be a
mechanical response due to my former mental conditioning. But, Harold, what other explanation is there for these
crazy happenings?"

"I promise you one thing," I said grimly. "I'm going to
have such bright lights installed down here that a half-blind
person could thread a needle in every corner! I've already
ordered the installation of more lights, but they just haven't
gotten around to it yet. Now I'm going to order twice as
many units and tell them to get moving on it!"

The very next day I carried out my promise and contacted the electrician.

Elda Clare and the kids finished their vacation with us
and we enjoyed every moment of it. However, she didn't
wander about the house at night, she kept her bedroom
door locked, and stayed away from the library even in the
daytime. She and Dorothy went back to New York and completed their interrupted shopping trip. Eventually she returned to New Mexico-somewhat wiser, but none the
worse for her experiences. In a letter she wrote us later on,
she stated:

The memory and feel of the house - the grounds - that
high rock fence-the barking of dogs in the mist-filled
mornings-all these and a few other important and
unexplainable things-will live in vivid recollection as
long as I have breath!

My sister-in-law, Ernestine, reacted much differently
when she came to visit. Ernestine was attractive enough but highly temperamental. She was auburn-haired, green-eyed,
nervously thin and excitable. She was, also, quite often
irritable and almost psychotic, for life had turned sour with
Ernestine. She and my brother had separated and she was
inclined to brood over her wrongs, both real and imagined.
However, she felt that a visit with us in our new home would
do her good and help to restore what she termed her "equi-
librium"-not realizing how little she had of that to begin
with.

I know I should have explained the situation at the house
immediately-or asked her to postpone her visit for the
time being. But again, I didn't know what to count on. Perhaps there would be ghostly manifestations-perhaps not.
We were going to have to come to terms with this uncertainty during the balance of our stay in that house, so I
agreed that Ernestine could come, but I also intended to
alert her to certain strange possibilities. However, she arrived
tired and nervous and, after a quick tour of the house,
wanted to go to bed early. It didn't seem the right time to
tell her to simply ignore the footsteps in her room or the
unexplained opening of doors. I was to wish later on that
I had warned her.

We were all asleep when the crash sounded. It came from
downstairs with such force that I felt there had been an
explosion. The three boys were out of bed instantly. They
ran for our bedroom. I was already out of bed and getting
into my slippers. I didn't bother looking for a robe.

"Dadl" Hal shouted from the doorway. "I think the furnace blew up!"

Dorothy had streaked into the nursery to see if the babies
were all right and found them undisturbed. She came back
and hurriedly slipped into a robe. "Where was the noise?"
she asked.

"I think it was in the library," I replied, leading the way
down the hall. "It sounded just beneath us."

At that moment Ernestine raced down the hall and threw
herself into my arms. She was sobbing;and wild-eyed, shaking all over.

"Someone tried to kill me!" she screamed.

I grasped her shoulders and tried to shake the mounting
hysterics out of her. "What happened? Calm down! You're
all right nowt"

"Th-the 1-library," she stuttered, pointing toward the
stairs. "Th-there in the 1-library!"

"Her library," Hal muttered.

I ignored him. "Come on!" I commanded the boys. "It
sounded as if the entire cornice of the fireplace gave wayl"

Ernestine still held me with a death-like grip. I transferred her to Dorothy's arms. "You go back in the bedroom
with Dorothyl" I ordered. "We'll investigate!"

We raced to the library where I switched on the lights.
I had expected a room in shambles. It was in perfect order
with Ernestine's book lying on the floor. I stared at the boys
who were as mystified as I. We went back upstairs where
Dorothy had succeeded in quieting Ernestine for the moment.

"What were you doing in the library at this time of night?"
I asked.

She swallowed convulsively. "R-reading, of course. I
couldn't sleep . . . I kept thinking about things . . . so I
decided to go downstairs and read until I was sleepy. I must
have dozed off and then . . ." her voice rose hysterically,
"then this thing ... This terrible thing crashed right beside
my head and hit the floor. I - I could have been killed, I
tell youl"

"Well, you weren't," I replied, not unkindly. "But we all
heard the noise, so it wasn't your imagination."

"Imagination!" she screeched. "I'm attacked in your
home and you speak of imagination!"

"But you could have had a bad nightmare," I pointed out reasonably. "People do and they seem very real. Now
you stay here again with Dorothy while the boys and I look
around some more."

"Do you think it was the furnace, Dad?" Hal asked, looking around.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I told him. "I thought
the noise came from the library, myself. You know it's just
below our bedroom. But let's have a look at that furnace."

The basement door was locked and bolted. I unlocked it
and turned on the lights. We made a thorough examination of the whole basement, including the furnace room.
We could find nothing wrong, so we went back upstairs
where Ernestine filled in more of the details. She was more
in control now, but still shaking.

"I fell asleep down there, like I said. Then there was this
awful crash. I rolled right over the back of the divan and
across the table. Then I ran. What was it? What on
earth . . . ?"

"Maybe someone was dynamiting," Bob suggested rather
weakly. I mentally thanked him for not replying that it
probably had been nothing on earth.

"Dynamite? At this time of night? Don't be silly," Ernestine snapped.

"We'll talk about it in the morning and look around outside. Right now you are going to take some aspirin and go
back to bed. And you stay there!"

"Don't worry about that," she sniffed.

Something had been nagging at my mind for several
moments and suddenly I knew what it was. I remembered
how dark and still the library had been when we went down
to investigate.

"Ernestine," I questioned when we had tucked her in for
the rest of the night. "You said you were reading and just
dozed off?"

She nodded, swallowing the aspirin that Dorothy had
handed her with a glass of water. "That's right."

"But if you were so scared that you just rolled over the
back of the sofa, how did you take the time to turn off the
light you were reading by?"

She looked bewildered. "I never touched that light! I told
you -I just ran!" It took a full minute for the significance
of my question to sink in. Then she gasped, "Harold, was
that library dark?"

I nodded without speaking

She gave her head a little shake as though trying to clear
it. "Then someone was in the house," she said, horrified.
"Who was with me in that library? Who turned off the
light?"

"We'll reason things out in the morning, Ernestine. Let's
try and get some sleep now."

Not that I thought she'd take my advice, of course. After
I closed her door, she got out of bed and slid the bolt. I
wondered a little grimly if locking that door was going to
do any good. I knew that another visit to her room could
send her over the brink.

"What time is it?" I asked Dorothy when we were back
in bed.

"Past two o'clock," she sighed.

I groaned aloud. "I'm not sleepy after this commotion.
I'll be in great shape for that Washington conferenct
tomorrow."

"Roll over and I'll rub your back," she offered. I relaxed
to the soothing stroke of her fingers on my spine. She asked
only one question. "Harold, can you figure it out?"

"Nope. I'm completely in the dark about it. If invisible
entities can generate noises like that, this whole planet should
be in an uproar."

"It is a lot of the time," she reminded me. "And I've been thinking about Ernestine's book. It did fall from her lap.
Maybe our lady couldn't initiate the noise herself, but she
could amplify and expand the sound made when the book
hit the floor."