The Haunted House in Berkeley Square

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Chapter I. No

62, BERKELEY SQUARE, Who has not heard of the haunted house in Berkeley Square? How numerous have been the suppositions respecting it, and how many the questions asked concerning it, only to be excelled by the number of false reports concerning this mysterious dwelling ! There is naturally only one true story, and I am to have the honour of telling it. It is doubly a difficult task, for I have not only to please my readers, but, while keeping to " the whole truth and nothing but the truth," I must be careful not to offend the relations of the present owner, who might take up the cudgels in defence of their departed ancestors. At the same time, I may remark that I have the B full sanction of the head of the family to whom the house belongs to relate this extraordinary narrative, for it is to his advantage that the truth should go forth to the world to confute the false reports which have been so long current, and which in many instances cast dishonour on an honourable name.

Lieut.-Colonel Edward Ruff Leybourne, for merly of the Indian Army, and now Honorary Colonel of the 3rd Batt. East Dorsetshire Regi ment Militia, is the man to whom I am indebted for the facts of the story. He is, most likely, personally known to many of the readers of this narrative, and, if so, must be appreciated as a man of sterling worth and of the greatest integrity. Those people who are acquainted with him only through the medium of the columns of a certain Society paper, which must be nameless, have no doubt formed different ideas, but I trust that will not prejudice their minds to the extent of dis believing any of the facts I am about to set forth — facts I have taken the very greatest trouble to verify before placing them on record. Colonel Leybourne is the head of the family I have before referred to as that to which the principal actors of this history belong.

I made acquaintance with him in the smoking-room of the Sefton Club. I think we began talking about that useful subject and ever entrancing topic to an NO. 62, BERKELEY SQUARE. 11 Englishman — the weather. But upon whatever point the conversation might have been, it led to a nodding acquaintance, and from that to a shaking-hands friendship and so on, till in six months' time we were to be seen nearly eveiy morning walking arm-in-arm down Pall Mall or Piccadilly, talking on matters of still more im portance than the weather. And it so happened that on one night we talked of conjuring ; from conjuring we went to spiritualism, and from that subject to ghosts and haunted houses. I asked him if he had ever heard the true story of Glamis Castle, to which a mystery is supposed to be attached, and about which curiosity has been rife for many years.

" No, my boy, I have not," replied the Colonel. " And I never give credence to the tales I hear concerning the Castle. Lord Strathmore and his near relations, I expect, are the only persons initiated in the secrets of their home. I imagine so from my own experience, for I am the unfortunate owner of a haunted house, situated in the best part of London, and the arrant nonsense I have heard talked about it is simply appalling. Now I, and but three others, know the whole truth, and I don't mind adding a fourth to the number, so I will tell you the story if you like, and trust to your honour not to repeat it." I expressed my gladness to hear what Colonel B Leybourne had to tell, at the same time promising that it should go no further. He then launched forth into an account of a most mysterious domestic drama, and so fascinated me that my surprise was great to find, when he had finished his narrative, that it was two o'clock in the morn ing.

He did not mention names, neither did he tell me where the house was situated, and little did I think at the time that he was referring to the celebrated haunted house in Berkeley Square. "Truth is ever stranger than fiction," I ex claimed. " What a magnificent plot for a novel ! " And straightway, almost unconsciously, my mind began dividing the story into chapters, wondering which would be the best situation to open with. " Yes, indeed," said Leybourne ; " I expect it would startle the reading public." The following day my friend left town, and I did not see him again for a week, during which time the mystery of the haunted house took such a hold upon me that I could think of but little else. I began to regret that I had ever heard the story, for I dearly love to put my ideas on paper ; but as I promised not to let the narrative go any further, I could not give vent to my feelings in the way I so much desired.

" I have been thinking a great deal about that NO. 62, BERKELEY SQUARE. house since I last saw you," said I to the Colonel, when we met again at the club. " Have you, indeed ? " he replied. " Well, so have I ; and during the week I have been absent, I have, after mature consideration, come to the decision that, if you like, you may write an account of it, and give it to the world. It is better, after all, that the truth should be known, than that a tissue of falsehoods should continue in circulation ; and that it should the better be known and believed, you can use the real names of the persons connected with the affair. I will give you, therefore, more detailed particulars than I did the other night, and you can come with me and look over the house, as that will doubtless help you in telling the tale."

" Write the story, Colonel ! I shall indeed be most happy. I will put my whole heart and soul into the work, and let other matters slide for the time. When shall we go and see the house? I am eager to begin." " Eager, are you 1 " said the Colonel, smiling at my impetuosity. " Well, there is nothing like striking while the iron is hot ; we'll go at once ; it isn't far." We walked up St. James's Street, crossed Piccadilly, and went up Berkeley Street into Berkeley Square. We were walking slowly, and as we came to No. 62, I looked up at the house, as was my invariable custom. " Talking of haunted houses," said I, " I wonder what the mystery is connected with this place." As I made the remark I looked from the house to the face of my friend, and noticed from its expression, that the Colonel was intensely amused.

" Why, my dear fellow, this is my house ; " and he burst out laughing as he saw how the news surprised me. Indeed, I was astonished. From my boyhood I had been interested in No. 62, Berkeley Square. I had even gone so far as to ring the bell, and ask if Mr. So-and-so were at home, just to have a peep into the hall, only to be disap pointed by the caretaker opening the door but a few inches and slamming it in my face, without so much as answering my question ; no doubt she was troubled by many visitors of the same sort. For the benefit of those of my readers who do not know the outward appearance of the house, and who are unable to satisfy themselves by going and seeing what it is like, I may state that it is a red brick square mansion, four storeys high, including the garrets, but the windows of these latter rooms cannot be seen from below owing to a parapet running NO. 62, BERKELEY SQUARE. 15 along the front.

It has red blinds, which are always kept pulled down behind the dirty windows. The street door is dark green, and muck in need of a fresh coating of paint ; in fact, the whole house has the appearance of neglect and shabbiness. By the extinguishers on each side of the entrance it can be seen that it was built in the time of link-boys and sedan chairs. We had to ring three times before the bell was answered by an extraordinary old crone, " one of those old ladies," as Mr. Besant says, " who are not in the least afraid of loneliness and ghosts. The furniture may crack all over the house, and the stairs may creak after dark ; there may be clanking chains, groans, shrieks, sobbings, wails, and tramping feet at midnight; there may be shadowy sheeted figures in the empty rooms at twilight ; the caretaker is not in the least concerned.

These things, with the house and the furniture, are the property of the landlord; she is there to look after them, ghosts and all. At night she sleeps, and all day long she makes tea." I give this quotation in full because it strikes me as most suitable to describe the caretaker of No. 62, as doubtless it would describe all others of the species. Whether it was the same old woman who had opened the door but to slam it in my face when T was a lad, I cannot say. What was more to the point she did not repeat that operation on this occasion, but ushered us in with all the civility due to the landlord and his friend. "You needn't wait," said Colonel Leybourne, addressing the old lady; "lam going to show my friend over the house, but we will not trespass on your domains downstairs." It is seldom allotted to a man to have a wish of years gratified quite unexpectedly, and that without the least effort on his part to obtain his desires.

So I had reason to congratulate myself on my good fortune in standing on the inside ot the street door of the haunted house in Berkeley Square, preparatory to being taken over the dwelling by its owner, and moreover having the different rooms and places on the landings and stairs where the most interesting scenes had taken place, pointed out by one who could vouch for the facts he related. I trust the reader will not be disappointed when I say that there was nothing remarkably weird about the interior of the house. The rooms looked somewhat gloomy, certainly, but not more so than might be expected in any uninhabited abode, where the blinds are for ever kept down, and where the old-fashioned furniture is dressed in brown holland coverings, and the carpets rolled up and placed in the centre of the different rooms to which theyjbelong.

In fact, I was somewhat NO. 62, BERKELEY SQUARE. 17 surprised to notice the cleanliness of the floors, and the absence of dust on the mantelpieces and sideboards ; it spoke well for the caretaker's industry. After looking in the dining-room and the morning-room, we entered the library, which was also on the ground floor. Here the Colonel pulled up the blinds to make it more cheerful, and lighting our cigarettes we took our seats in the comfortable arm-chairs, and my friend proceeded to tell me the names of the chief actors in the drama I am about to relate, beside entering still more fully into details that would be of service to me in my work. The walls of the room we were sitting in were entirely covered by book-cases filled with well bound volumes, with the exception of two spaces taken up by a couple of full-length oil-painted portraits.

" My mother, Lady Anna Leybourne," said the Colonel, with a ring of sadness in his voice as he introduced me to the picture. I looked upon the portrait of a woman I should think not more than twenty. She was dressed in a court dress of the fashion of about sixty years ago. She had large, soft, winning brown eyes, auburn hair, and small features ; it was a sweet, good face, and utterly the reverse of the second picture upon which I turned my eyes. " My uncle, Eustace Selwyn," said Colonel Leybourne, answering the unspoken question of my look. There was no sound of sadness in his voice this time ; on the contrary, the tone was savage, and was accompanied by a look of anger totally foreign to my friend's usually good-natured countenance. Uncle Eustace's face was certainly not a pleasant one ; in fact, it was about as odious and villainous a physiognomy as one could possibly look upon.

The pictures were well painted, and as the Colonel talked on, they and the house the originals had lived in gave a touch of reality to the story which impressed me greatly. After a while we went up the uncarpeted stairs into the rooms on the first floor, and in the drawing-room I was shown two spirited water colour drawings — one of the Colonel, taken thirty six years previously, and the other of his sister Mabel. It was a pretty little painting of a girl of eighteen, and, judging from the portrait, she must have inherited all her mother's beauty and goodness. For some minutes I studied the lovely face, and turned away with a feeling ot indignation that one so sweet and loveable should have been made to suffer so intensely. From the drawing-rooms we mounted to the bedrooms, and thence up a narrow flight of stairs to the garrets.

These low-ceilinged and dingy NO. 62. BERKELEY SQUARE. 19 apartments were filled with rubbish and lumber. There was hardly a yard of space not occupied by either broken furniture or packing-cases. " We should have a dirty, but interesting time opening these old boxes," said the Colonel. " Some day you must come and help me to have a rummage amongst this dSbris. I think we have seen all now, but if ever you want to come back and have another look round, you can do so. I will leave word with the caretaker to let you in whenever you call. Come along, we will be off, and you can begin the story as soon as you like." That night I retired to my rooms early, and plunged headlong into the by no means easy but yet delightful task of writing the history that had been told me of the far-famed haunted house in Berkeley Square.

Chapter II. Uncle Eustace

In the year of grace, 1783, there w7as rejoicing at Apsley Hall and in the village of Stanton, in Somersetshire, for after ten years of wedded life there had at last been born a child to Squire Selwyn, and the festivities and merry-makings were all the greater because that child was a son and heir to many a broad acre of fat meadow and arable land, together with the Hall and the village, besides property in London. Dear me, what a fuss to make about one poor little creature! What ringing of the village bells and burning of bonfires ; what a host of callers to inquire after the health of the infant and his happy mother, what numberless congratulations to the proud father ; what a handsome cheque the doctor received for his part of the programme ! And, oh Heaven defend us, what a hideous infant he had helped to bring into the world !

It has been remarked, no doubt, that a monthly nurse most emphatically declares that the particu lar baby she is attending upon at the time is the finest and loveliest she has ever seen, and is ever likely to see again ; but in the case of baby Selwyn his nurse kept a strange silence. And for a monthly nurse to be silent respecting her charge is something so extraordinary that the wise-heads on such matters, who had not seen the child, and drew conclusions from the manner of the nurse, must have feared that there was something radically wrong with the infant. But there was nothing more serious than that it was exceedingly small and puny, and was as repulsively ugly as a baby can possibly be, which to my masculine mind is saying a great deal. It was said at the time — perhaps by some unchari table person — that if you could imagine the face of a pink toad with its head covered with black hair, you would be forming a very fair conception of Squire Selwyn's pride and joy.

He, poor man, knew very little about such matters, and doubtless thought it was as pretty and fine a baby, if not prettier and finer, than other babies. His wife told him it was " a darling love," and after the way of young mothers she probably would have said the same if her offspring had been born with a couple of horns and a tail ; and of course her husband believed and agreed with her. As time went on the child grew in stature, strength, and ugliness ; also in cunning, vice, and sulkiness. Instead of being a " pride and joy " to his parents, young Eustace showed unmistakable signs of proving hereafter a curse and sorrow to them. The honest old Squire would turn pale at the frequent bursts of ill-temper to which his son would give way, sulking for a whole day after wards, and even the mother would sigh and the tears would come to her eyes as she pondered over the future of her boy.

Such a determination on his part to do everything that was wrong would, she feared, inevitably be his ruin in the end. When Master Eustace was three years old another "little stranger" appeared on the scene, in the form of a girl. On this occasion the event passed off as quietly as such events generally do. There was no ringing of the village bells, and no bonfires, and the country doctor had to be content with a comparatively small fee. Now, all this goes to prove the perversity of Dame Nature, for whereas, as I have remarked, the first child was both ugly in appearance and disposition; the second, as she grew and thrived, proved to be all sweetness and goodness, for she possessed the charm of a lovely face and a heart full of tender ness, unselfishness, and love. The natural con sequence of such qualities was that it was she who proved to be the " pride and joy " of her father ; and it is to be regretted that the mother fell into the error, of which more than one woman has been guilty, of endeavouring to blind herself to her son's faults, and taking his part against his sister Rosa, and even against his father when disturbances arose between them, disturbances always having Master Eustace as their prime mover.

Eustace had tutors ; he had many, for no one could be found who was willing for more than a few months to put up with the boy's overbear ing nature, vile temper, and mean ideas. This estimable youth looked upon his tutor as being merely a salaried servant, and, after a short acquaintance, would flatly tell him so, and treat him as he treated the footman or groom, so it is not wonderful that one gentleman after another resigned with regret an appointment which, in many respects, was one of exceeding comfort. But, with all this, Eustace was a sufficiently sharp lad to pass into Eton, but he also passed out again in a remarkably short time, for he mis behaved himself to such an extent that although he was not exactly expelled, it was intimated to his father that it would be just as well for his son to seek some other establishment wherein to pursue his studies ; and such a notice coming from Eton meant volumes.

So Eustace came home, and more tutors were engaged with the same result as before, and thus matters continued until the heir of Apsley Hall reached the age of twenty-one. Mrs. Selwyn's sudden death then changed the current of affairs at home. His mother gone, the young man had no one to fight his battles for him, and when he requested his father to make him an allowance and permit him to go to London to study for the bar, Mr. Selwyn gladly acquiesced. In the first place, he was pleased that his son had chosen a profession, and in the second he was not sorry to get rid of him ; and gentle, good, and somewhat timid Rosa, although loth to confess it even to herself, felt a sensation of great relief as she saw the carriage drive away with her brother and his luggage to meet the London coach at Taunton.

To study for the bar was professedly the motive that took Eustace Selwyn to the Metropolis. The young man laughed in his sleeve at the idea of study ; the notion of his poring over musty law papers was too rich. Oh, no ; he was going to London to enjoy himself — to see something of life, to spend money, and not to make it. His father was to give him a handsome allowance, and even if that were not sufficient, he had heard that it was not a difficult matter for a young man with expectations such as his, to raise considerable amounts from the money-lenders. Young Selwyn was entered at the Middle Temple, and attended the chambers of the barrister in Pump Court — with whom he was to read — with tolerable regularity for about a week. But he soon made acquaintances — an exceedingly easy thing to do in London, or anywhere else, for the matter of that, when one has money, aud is ready to spend it freely on wine and women, and every description of wanton debauchery.

Evenings spent at Ranelagh and Vauxhall, and nights at such haunts as the " Cider Cellars," " The Shades," " The Finish," and ending up at " The Little Nick," where the best black coffee and muffins in all London were to be obtained, were not conducive to the study of the law. Neither did Squire Selwyn regard with equa nimity his son's constant demands for money ; but as every request was accompanied by a threat that a refusal would be considered as an invitation to return home, the money was gene rally sent ; for the truth was that Eustace's father dreaded nothing more than that his son might come home and take up his abode permanently at the Hall. And from the fact that the young man only paid five visits to the paternal roof in eight years, and that the last occasion was to attend his sister's wedding, it may be readily believed that Mr. Selwyn had agreed to his son's terms.

Rosa Selwyn's marriage with the Earl of Illing ton, which took place in 1811, promised a life of happiness, for although he was twenty years her senior, he was a man with qualities calculated to win and retain a woman's affection ; but unhappily the young wife died the following year, leaving behind a daughter afterwards called Anna Rosa, to cheer the widowed Earl. As may be seen by turning to the " Peerage," Edward, Earl of Illington, was the last nobleman of that name. He died in 1836, four years after his daughter's marriage with George Ruff Ley bourne. His estates, being strictly entailed in the male line, passed to a distant relative, his daughter inheriting only her mother's marriage settlement, with the addition of three thousand pounds. Mr. Leybourne was a man of considerable means, derived from sugar plantations in Jamaica; so with the fortune inherited by his wife through her father and grandfather — Squire Selwyn — their early wedded life was passed in all the ease and luxury to which West Indian proprietors at that time were accustomed ; but unhappily the rich man of to-day often becomes the poor man of to-morrow, and so it was with George Ley bourne.

The sudden emancipation of the slaves worked the ruin of his prosperity, and of that of many another West Indian proprietor. His estates ere long became utterly worthless, owing to the refusal of the freed negro to work. For a few years he sought to avert the impending ruin by drawing largely on his funded property in England to carry on his plantations in Jamaica, but at length gave up the struggle in despair, and in an evil hour embarked the remnant of his former wealth, and, unfortunately, a considerable portion of his wife's fortune, in a specula tion which promised wonders, but resulted in overwhelming ruin to all concerned. So that at her husband's death, which took place in 1850, Lady Anna Leybourne was left with her son Edward, aged seventeen, and her daughter, Mabel, who was two years younger, with only the small provision of seven thousand pounds for their support.

Thus a marriage which was so brilliant at its outset ended in disappointment and straitened means. Lady Anna was not only left with but little to live upon and to educate her two children, but she found herself without a relation to turn to for advice, with the exception of her uncle, Eustace Selwyn, who had by this time become a cross grained, miserly old bachelor of sixty-seven, living alone in solitary state at 62, Berkeley Square. His advice to his niece was, that she should hand over to him the seven thousand pounds, which he would invest for her, he keeping the interest, in return for which he would allow her and her children to live with him, and also pay for theneducation. This offer seemed to Lady Anna to be a gene rous one, and she gladly accepted it, thinking that, after all, rumour might have been unjust towards the old gentleman.

Eustace Selwyn had come into the family estates, including the house in Berkeley Square, at his father's decease, which took place in 1813, a year after the death of Rosa, Lady Anna's mother. AVhile still in the prime of life, Eustace Selwyn did what few men can do — whether or not the sudden change in his mode of existence was to his credit is a matter of opinion ; at any rate, it showed that the man had determination of character almost superhuman. He woke one morning to find that his years of dissipation and vice, squandering of money, and dealings with the Jews, had brought as a natural consequence nothing more nor less than ruin, or rather, it should be said, that it would have been ruin to the generality of men. But (as the old man was fond of relating) with the sudden change that came over " the spirit of his dream " came a spirit of determination to win back the money he had lost.