“Well, so it was till the murder happened,” replied the woman. “The
story goes that somewhere about forty years ago a farmer there took to
drink, went mad, and murdered his wife. He didn’t stop at that, either,
for he cut off her head and buried it, and it wasn’t found till some
time after the body had had decent burial.”
“So she’s supposed to haunt the place?” I asked.
“There’s no suppose about it, sir,” she replied, very quietly; “a tidy
few people here have seen her, much the same as you did. My husband
has, too, by the stile leading into the churchyard. It took him a week
in bed to get over it. Sometimes it’s just a face, and sometimes just
a black bundle like a body without a head; but always near one of them
two stiles, and round about harvest time. Heaven send I never see the
sight!” she concluded, devoutly.
“I’m not particularly anxious to renew the acquaintance myself,” I
replied, “but how do you account for the lifting of my latch?”
“Well, I can’t say for certain, sir, but, if my memory serves me, there
was a gaffer living in your cottage--he’s dead now many a year--who
used to work at the White House and was there when the murder happened.
He saw her pretty often in his garden, I’m told, but couldn’t be got to
speak of it. It may be she walks there too.”
I spent a very mixed kind of night at the inn, and on the following
day returned to Fambridge and less ghostly company. From here I made
arrangements for a change of quarters, and from that day to this I have
not set eyes upon Canewdon, nor have I any inclination to do so.
This strange happening is perhaps too strange for everybody’s
belief. My “spirituous” state at the time is an opinion largely
held by chaffing friends; but I ask that three points be taken into
consideration. I am practically a teetotaller; my imagination is no
more abnormal than that of most of my fellows; and, lastly, no whisper
of ghostly visitations in the village had reached my ears prior to the
narrative as told by the landlady.
The whole affair would make an interesting little piece of
investigation for the Psychical Research Society.
[Illustration: SOME SAVAGE PASTIMES.]