borne anew, and her prognostications
unfulfilled. At last the creakings abruptly ceased--nothing was to be
heard save the shaking of the trees, the distant yelping of a dog, and
the far-away footfall of one of the servants. Having somewhat recovered
from the shock, Mrs MacNeill was busy speculating as to the appearance
of the hidden horror, when she heard a breathing, the subtle, stealthy
breathing of the secreted pouncer. Again she was spellbound. The evening
advanced, and from every nook and cranny of the room, from behind
chairs, sofa, sideboard, and table, from window-sill and curtains, stole
the shadows, all sorts of curious shadows, that brought with them an
atmosphere of the barren, wind-swept cliffs and dark, deserted
mountains, an atmosphere that added fresh terrors to Mrs MacNeill's
already more than distraught mind.

The room was now full of occult possibilities, drawn from all quarters,
and doubtless attracted thither by the chest, which acted as a physical
magnet. It grew late; still no one came to her rescue; and still more
shadows, and more, and more, and more, until the room was full of them.
She actually saw them gliding towards the house, in shoals, across the
moon-kissed lawn and carriage-drive. Shadows of all sorts--some,
unmistakable phantasms of the dead, with skinless faces and glassy eyes,
their bodies either wrapped in shrouds covered with the black slime of
bogs or dripping with water; some, whole and lank and bony; some with an
arm or leg missing; some with no limbs or body, only heads--shrunken,
bloodless heads with wide-open, staring eyes--yellow, ichorous
eyes--gleaming, devilish eyes. Elementals of all sorts--some, tall and
thin, with rotund heads and meaningless features; some, with
rectangular, fleshy heads; some, with animal heads. On they came in
countless legions, on, on, and on, one after another, each vying with
the other in ghastly horridness.

The series of terrific shocks Mrs MacNeill experienced during the
advance of this long and seemingly interminable procession of every
conceivable ghoulish abortion, at length wore her out. The pulsations of
her naturally strong heart temporarily failed, and, as her pent-up
feelings found vent in one gasping scream for help, she fell insensible
to the ground.

That very night the chest was ruthlessly cremated, and Mrs MacNeill's
dining-room ceased to be a meeting-place for spooks.

Whenever I see an old chest now, I always view it with