This reporter once covered a dramatic spook-story in the early part
of his Cape Cod newspaper career. The incident was unusual because it
involved a trouble-brewing spook and made unhappiness all around.
A lady from New York had rented an old house facing the highway in
North Truro and had paid $200 down, intending to operate a summer tea
room. But her uneasiness grew following each night she spent alone in
the old house. There would be the slamming of a door at an eerie hour
after midnight, or the frequent tread of creaking footsteps up and
down the narrow little front staircase. Finally there came the morning
when a blanket-fog came down into the valley and enveloped the quaint
old house.
The New York lady sat chatting in the kitchen with a Portuguese
neighbor and as they talked the weird thing happened. A big, sturdy
rocker that stood in a corner of the room began to rock. Back and
forth, with an even motion, just as though someone was in the seat, the
rocking continued.
Spellbound, the two women watched the strange business for at least two
or three minutes. It was the last straw for the lady from New York.
She made the door in two bounds and didn’t even bother to grasp up a
handbag on the table that contained a sizeable sum. She forfeited the
$200 rental payment and returned to Manhattan the next day after a more
courageous neighbor had ventured into the haunted house to retrieve the
abandoned handbag.