Night Stalks The Mansion: A True Story Of One Family's Ghostly Adventure Read Online Free

hesitated at the foot of the stairs.
    "Of course, I'm sure!" My voice was sharper than I intended because I was still uneasy. I led the way up to the
third floor. We went through bedrooms and closets and
checked adjoining baths. We found only one locked door
leading into the hall.
    "Open up!" I yelled, pounding on the closed door. "I
know you're in therel"
    There was no answer. The only sound was the echo of
my voice in the empty hall. My elation that we had finally
trapped the culprit was shortlived. We walked into the room
through an adjoining one and found it empty. Then we
inspected the rest of the house and tested all doors leading
to the outside. They were securely locked. Finally we went
slowly back to the car.
    "While you were waiting, did you notice anything unusual?" I asked Dorothy. "Did you see anyone go into the
house-or run out?"
    "Of course not," she replied a little impatiently. "The
headlights were on all the time, too. What is the matter
with you, Harold?"
    By that time I wasn't sure. Maybe I had been working
too hard and needed a rest. Perhaps I had only imagined
the footsteps. The whole atmosphere of the old mansion
was eerie at night and would certainly encourage fearful
impressions. But I had never been possessed of an overactive
imagination. I was a practical person, used to dealing with
facts and figures. Then I thought again of that library door.
Could I have only thought that it was closed when I first
entered the hall? Had I really heard it open? I was completely confused.
    I didn't have much to say on our way back to town. I was
too busy with my own chaotic thoughts. I certainly had
been convinced that an intruder was in the house. But, if
so, why the silence at my challenge? Where did she go? Why the mystery? I didn't want to discuss it further at the moment
for it would only make Dorothy unduly nervous. And it
didn't help my frame of mind to hear occasional chuckles
from the back seat. I realized, then, that the boys had never
felt that there was really anyone in the house at all.

    The next morning I phoned Mr. Brooks and asked if
there was an extra set of keys to the place. I told him I was
sure someone had been in the house the previous night.
    He seemed puzzled. "The foreman turned in all the keys,"
he informed me. "You have them. I don't even have a set,
myself. Was there any sign of a forced entry?"
    "None."
    "Well, if there was someone," and his voice indicated
that he doubted it, "they have gone by now. No one will
camp out there when a big family is moving in."
    I hung up, impressed by his logic. It would take a foolhardy intruder to remain in hiding when the Camerons
took up residence.
    The general manager of our firm was in Philadelphia
that week for a visit. I told him, jokingly, of my experience
and waited for him to share the laugh. Instead, he just gave
me a strange look.
    "I'd get out of that lease if I were you," he said with a
seriousness that astounded me. "When we drove past the
house the other day, it gave me the creeps. Sure you want
a place that big?"
    For a moment I felt a twinge of apprehension, but it
soon passed. In the bright light of day I had begun to doubt
the reality of my impressions. Everything had to have a
logical explanation and I felt I'd find one in this instance.
Besides, I was still captivated by the aura that surrounded
the imposing ancestral mansion. While growing up, historical novels had been my preference and the place looked
like it had been the setting for one. Also, not to be overlooked, there was the new kitchen, new paint job and the new furnace-all renovated according to my specifications. There was also the signed lease. I told myself that
the Camerons were a normal, noisy bunch and that all
would be well. Dorothy was already packed and so were
the boys. I decided to be my usual sensible self.

    "Sure, I'm sure," I laughed.
    And so we moved into the house on Plum Tree Lane.

     

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