Ghost Stories and Mysteries Read Online Free PDF

meditated suicide. A female figure hastily approaching from the opposite side brushed close to me, almost touching me; a strange thrill passed through me, an unrestrainable impulse made me spring after her; I overtook her just as she passed underneath a lamp; it was her!—the woman over whose body I had had a tomb erected in Kensal Green Cemetery was by my side! My exclamation of surprise and horror seemed not to affect her in the least; she kept on her way, and I by her side. The policeman looked keenly at us; he little thought that it was a dead woman who passed him. Some merry party came along, chatting and laughing loudly; how their mirth would have been checked had they known that the nice-looking girl—as I heard one loudly remark about her— had stepped forth from among the buried. She never looked at me as I kept up with her, but steadily pursued her way. I dropped a little behind, as the joyous thought came into my brain that by following her I might find Hawthorne. What an account should he render to me!
    On we went, the dead and the living, until she turned down a narrow blind lane, reached a door in a wall at the side, opened it with a key she took from her pocket, and passed in; before she could re-close it I had pushed in, too—into a small courtyard, high buildings rising in the gloomy night all round. She seemed scarcely to notice my intrusion, but hurried on into one of the houses, I still keeping close behind her—into a dark passage and up a narrow stairway; from thence I followed her into a lighted room, where three men were sitting. They took no notice of either of us. A hasty glance assured me that Hawthorne was not amongst them. She opened a door leading into an inner room. I saw a man sitting in a lounging chair, his back towards me. She went up and handed a note to him; I followed, for I saw who it was—at last, I had him! He read the letter through, I standing quietly behind his chair, my heart leaping gladly. He tore the note up, laughing lightly.
    “Well, Nelly, you have—” He turned as he spoke, and saw me. His exclamation of fear and terrified retreat was, oh, such music to me! The next instant he called loudly for help, for he saw murder in my face. The men from the other room rushed in, but before they could come I had hurled him half strangled on the floor, and was standing over him with a hastily snatched up decanter in my hand. “Order them back!” I cried, as they were rushing at me, “or your life pays the forfeit first! I’ll beat your brains out! quick!”
    “Back! back!” he cried in an agonised voice. “Don’t kill me, Seamore!”
    “Send them out of the room.”
    He did so.
    “Now, what have you done to her?” I pointed to Fanny, who was sitting on a sofa in the old attitude I knew, the bowed down head and clasped hands.
    “What shall I do? what do you want?”
    “Remove your power from over her, if you can; give her back to me.”
    “I cannot; she will die again if my influence is removed. She knows you no more; her name now is Nelly Hotham.”
    “I care not whether she lives or dies, so that she is no longer your victim. I will give you but a few moments to make your mind up. Consent or—”
    “I consent to anything,” he said, cowering and shrinking.
    “If I swear not to take your life, nor ever again to seek it, you will relinquish any hold you may have over her mind or spirit, and allow me to take her away wherever I like?”
    “I will; never again will I seek to interfere with her.”
    “Then I spare your life. I do not trust your word, but I do your cowardice. If you dare to break your bond, I will find you, no matter where you hide yourself. I fear no more the punishment that I should incur through murdering you, than I do you yourself.”
    “She will die, as I told you; but you shall have your wish.” He turned to “Nelly,” as he called her.
    “Nelly, go with this gentleman, and do whatever he tells you. You will never see me again.” He