natural
hush. I saw shadows everywhere--shadows that defied analysis and had
no material counterparts. A sudden crashing of brushwood brought me to
a standstill, and sent the blood in columns to my heart. Then I
laughed loudly--it was only a hare, the prettiest and pertest thing
imaginable. I went on. Something whizzed past my face. I drew back in
horror--it was a bat, merely a bat. My nerves were out of order, the
fall had unsteadied them; I must pull myself together. I did so, and
continued to advance. A shadow, long, narrow, and grotesque, fell
across my path, and sent a thousand and one icy shivers down my back.
In an agony of terror I shut my eyes and plunged madly on. Something
struck me in the face and hurled me back. My eyes opened
involuntarily, and I saw a tree that, either out of pique or sheer
obstinacy, had planted itself half-way across the path. I examined its
branches to make sure they _were_ branches, and continued my march. A
score more paces, a sudden bend, and I was in an open space,
brilliantly illuminated by moonbeams and peopled with countless,
moving shadows. One would have to go far to find a wilder, weirder,
and more grimly suggestive spot. As I stood gazing at the scene in
awestruck wonder, a slight breeze rocked the tops of the pine trees,
and moaning through their long and gloomy aisles reverberated like
thunder. The sounds, suggesting slightly, ever so slightly, a tattoo,
brought with them vivid pictures of the Drummer, too vivid just then
to be pleasant, and I turned to go. To my unmitigated horror, a white
and lurid object barred my way. My heart ceased to beat, my blood
turned to ice; I was sick, absolutely sick, with terror. Besides this,
the figure held me spellbound--I could neither move nor utter a sound.
It had a white, absolutely white face, a tall, thin, perpendicular
frame, and a small, glittering, rotund head. For some seconds it
remained stationary, and then, with a gliding motion, left the path
and vanished in the shadows.

Again a breeze rustled through the tops of the pine trees, moaned
through their long and gloomy aisles, and reverberated like thunder;
rat-tat, tat, rat-tat, tat--and with this sound beating in my ears,
reaction set in, and I never ceased running till I had reached my
hotel.

CASE IX

THE ROOM BEYOND. AN ACCOUNT OF THE HAUNTINGS
AT HENNERSLEY, NEAR AYR

To me Hennersley is what the Transformation Scene at a P