Halloween Special: The Confession of Charles Linkworth

In honor of my favorite holiday, I have a fictional horror story written by EF Benson, and published in 1912. Enjoy.

A new true story is in the works, and I should have the writing finished soon. Keep an eye out for that.


epidemicsound.com

Episode Transcript

(00:04):
Hello listeners. In honor of Halloween, I have a fictional story for you
today, written by a man namedEdward Frederick Benson and published in nineteen twelve.
This guy was well respected and evengot a mention by HP Lovecraft in
an essay. So this is apretty good story in my opinion, and

(00:25):
I figured, instead of doing whatI did last year and doing the Edgar
Allen postuff, we'll do something thatyou probably haven't heard before. So this
is the confession of Charles Linkworth.Doctor Teasdale had occasion to attend the condemned
man once or twice during the weekbefore his execution, and found him,

(00:49):
as is often the case, whenhis last hope of life has vanished,
quiet and perfectly resigned to his fate, and not seeming to look forward with
any dread, to the morning thateach hour that passed brought nearer and nearer.
The bitterness of death appeared to beover for him. It was done
with when he was told that hisappeal was refused, But for those days,

(01:12):
while hope was not yet quite abandoned, the wretched man had drunk of
death daily. In all his experience, the doctor had never seen a man
so wildly and passionately tenacious of life, nor one so strongly knit to this
material world by the sheer animal lustof living. Then the news that hope

(01:32):
could no longer be entertained was toldhim, and his spirit passed out of
the grip of the agony of tortureand suspense, and accepted the inevitable with
indifference. Yet the change was soextraordinary that it seemed to the doctor rather
that the news had completely stunned hispowers of feeling, and he was below

(01:53):
the numbed surface, still knit intomaterial things as strongly as ever. He
had faint when the result was toldhim, and Doctor Teasdale had been called
in to attend him, But thefit was but transient, and he came
out of it into full consciousness ofwhat had happened. The murder had been

(02:14):
a deed of peculiar horror, andthere was nothing of sympathy in the mind
of the public towards the perpetrator.Charles Lnkworth, who now lay under capital
sentence, was the keeper of asmall stationary store in Sheffield, and there
lived with him his wife and mother. The latter was the victim of his
atrocious crime. The motive of itbeing to get possession of the sum of

(02:37):
five hundred pounds which was this woman'sproperty. Linkworth, as came out at
the trial, was in debt tothe extent of a hundred pounds at the
time, and during his wife's absencefrom home on a visit to relations,
he strangled his mother and during thenight buried the body in the small back
garden of his house. On hiswife's return, he had a sufficiently plausible

(03:00):
tale to account for the elder MissusLinkworth's disappearance, for there had been a
constant jarrings and bickerings between him andhis mother for the last year or two,
and she had more than once threatenedto withdraw herself and the eight shillings
a week which she contributed to householdexpenses, and purchase an annuity with her

(03:20):
money. It was true also thatduring the younger Missus Linkworth's absence from home,
mother and son had had a violentquarrel arising originally from some trivial point
in household management, and that inconsequence of this she had actually drawn her
money out of the bank, intendingto leave Sheffield next day and settle in
London, where she had friends.That evening she told him this, and

(03:46):
during the night he killed her.His next step before his wife's return was
logical and sound. He packed upall his mother's possessions and took them to
the station, from which he sawthem dispatched to town by a passenger train,
And in the evening he asked severalfriends in to supper and told them
of his mother's departure. He didnot logically, also, and in accordance

(04:10):
with what they probably already knew,fain regret, but said that he and
she had never got on well together, and that the cause of peace and
quietness was furthered by her going.He told the same story to his wife
on her return, identical in everydetail, adding however, that the quarrel
had been a violent one, andthat his mother had not even left him

(04:32):
her address. This again was wiselythought of it would prevent his wife from
writing to her. She appeared toaccept his story completely, Indeed, there
was nothing strange or suspicious about it. For a while, he behaved with
a composure and astuteness which most criminalspossess up to a certain point, the

(04:55):
lack of which after that is generallythe cause of their detection. He did
not, for instance, immediately payoff his debts, but took into his
house a young man as lodger,who occupied his mother's room, and he
dismissed the assistant in his shop anddid the entire serving himself. This gave
the impression of economy, and atthe same time he openly spoke of the

(05:17):
great improvement in his trade. Andnot till a month had passed did he
cash any of the bank notes whichhe had found in a locked drawer in
his mother's room. Then he changedtwo notes of fifty pounds and paid off
his creditors. At that point hisastuteness and composure failed him. He opened

(05:39):
a deposit account at a local bankwith four more fifty pound notes, instead
of being patient and increasing his balanceat the savings bank pound by pound,
and he got uneasy about that whichhe had buried deep enough for security in
the back garden. Thinking to renderhimself safer in this regard, he ordered
a cart load of slag and stonefragments, and with the help of his

(06:01):
lodger, employed the summer evenings whenwork was over, in building a sort
of rockery over the spot. Thencame the chance circumstance which really set match
to this dangerous train. There wasa fire in the lost Luggage office at
King's Cross Station, from which heought to have claimed his mother's property,

(06:21):
and one of the two boxes waspartially burned. The company was liable for
compensation and his mother's name on herlinen and a letter with the Sheffield address
on it led to the arrival ofa purely official and formal notice stating that
the company were prepared to consider claims. It was directed to missus Linkworth's and

(06:43):
Charles Linkworth's wife received and read it. It seemed a sufficiently harmless document,
but it was endorsed with his deathwarrant, for he could give no explanation
at all of the fact of theboxes still lying at King's Cross Station,
beyond suggesting that some accident had happenedto his mother. Clearly he had to

(07:04):
put the matter in the hands ofthe police with a view to tracing her
movements, and if it proved thatshe was dead, claiming her property which
she had already drawn out of thebank. Such, at least was the
course urged on him by his wifeand lodger, in whose presence the communication
from the railway officials was bread out, and it was impossible to refuse to

(07:27):
take it. Then the silent,uncreaking machinery of justice characteristic of England began
to move forward. Quiet men loungedabout Smith Street, visited banks, observed
the supposed increase in trade, andfrom a house near by, looked into
the garden where ferns were already flourishingon the rockery. Then came the arrest

(07:48):
and the trial, which did notlast very long, and on a certain
Saturday night the verdict. Smart womenin large hats had made the court bright
with color, and in all thecrowd there was not one who felt any
sympathy with the young, athletic lookingman who was condemned. Many of the
audience were elderly and respectable mothers,and the crime had been an outrage on

(08:13):
motherhood, and they listened to theunfolding of the flawless evidence with strong approval.
They thrilled a little when the judgeput on the awful and ludicrous little
black cap and spoke the sentence appointedby god Lankworth went to pay the penalty
for the atrocious deed which no onewho had heard the evidence could possibly doubt

(08:35):
that he had done. With thesame indifference as had marked his entire demeanor.
Since he knew his appeal had failed, the prison chaplain who had attended
him had done his utmost to gethim to confess, but his efforts had
been quite ineffectual, and to thelast he asserted, though without protestation,
his innocence. On a bright Septembermorning, when the sun shone and warm

(09:00):
on the terrible little procession that crossedthe prison yard to the shed where was
erected the apparatus of death, justicewas done, and doctor Teasdale was satisfied
that life was immediately extinct. Hehad been present on the scaffold, had
watched the bolt drawn and the hoodedand pinioned figure drop into the pit.
He had heard the chunk and creakof the rope as the sudden weight came

(09:24):
on to it, and looking downhe had seen the queer twitchings of the
hanged body. They had lasted buta second for the execution had been perfectly
satisfactory. An hour later he madethe post mortem examination and found that his
view had been correct. The vertebraeof the spine had been broken at the

(09:46):
neck, and death must have beenabsolutely instantaneous. It was hardly necessary even
to make that little piece of dissectionthat proved this, but for the sake
of form he did so, andat that moment he had a very curious
and vivid mental impression that the spiritof the dead man was close beside him,
as if it still dwelt in thebroken habitation of its body. But

(10:11):
there was no question at all thatthe body was dead. It had been
dead an hour. Then followed anotherlittle circumstance that at first seemed insignificant,
though curious. Also one of thewarders entered and asked if the rope,
which had been used an hour agoand was the hangman's perquisite, had by
mistake been brought into the mortuary withthe body. But there was no trace

(10:35):
of it, and it seemed tohave vanished altogether. Though it a singular
thing to be lost, it wasnot there, it was not on the
scaffold, and though the disappearance wasof no particular moment, it was quite
inexplicable. Doctor Teasdale was a bachelorand a man of independent means, and

(10:56):
lived in a tall, windowed andcommodious house in Bedford, where where a
plain cook of surpassing excellence looked afterhis food and her husband his person.
There was no need for him topractice a profession at all, and he
performed his work at the prison forthe sake of the study of the minds
of criminals. Most crime, thetransgression, that is, of the rule

(11:20):
of conduct which the human race hasframed for the sake of its own preservation,
he held to be either the resultof some abnormality of the brain or
of starvation. Crimes of theft,for instance, he would by no means
refer to one head. Often,it is true they were the result of
actual want, but more often dictatedby some obscure disease of the brain,

(11:43):
and marked cases it was labeled askleptomania. But he was convinced there were
many others which did not fall directlyunder the dictation of physical need. More
especially was this the case where thecrime in question involved some deed of violence,
and he mentally placed underneath this headingas he went home that evening the

(12:05):
criminal at whose last moments he hadbeen present that morning, the crime had
been abominable, the need of moneynot so very pressing, and the very
abomination and unnaturalness of the murderer inclinedhim to consider the murderer as lunatic rather
than criminal. He had been,as far as was known, a man
of quiet and kindly disposition, agood husband, a sociable neighbor, and

(12:30):
then he had committed a crime,just one which put him outside all pales.
So monstrous a deed, whether perpetratedby a sane man or a madwe
was intolerable. There was no usefor the doer of it on this planet
at all. But somehow the doctorfelt that he would have been more at
one with the execution of justice ifthe dead man had confessed. It was

(12:54):
morally certain that he was guilty,but he wished that, when there was
no longer any hope for him,he had endorsed the verdict himself. He
dined alone that evening, and afterdinner sat in his study, which had
joined the dining room, and,feeling disinclined to read, sat in his
great red chair opposite the fireplace,and let his mind graze where it would.

(13:16):
At once almost it went back tothe curious sensation he had experienced that
morning, a feeling that the spiritof Linkworth was present in the mortuary.
Though life had been extinct for anhour. It was not the first time,
especially in cases of sudden death,that he had felt a similar conviction,
though perhaps it had never been quiteso unmistakable as it had been today.

(13:41):
Yet the feeling, to his mindwas quite probably formed on a natural
and psychical truth. The spirit,it may be remarked that he was a
believer in the doctrine of future life, and the non extinction of the soul
with the death of the body wasvery likely unable or unwilling to quit at
once, and altogether the earthly habitationvery likely it lingered their earth bound for

(14:03):
a while. In his leisure hours, Doctor Teasdale was a considerable student of
the occult, For, like mostadvanced and proficient physicians, he clearly recognized
how narrow was the boundary of separationbetween soul and body, how tremendous the
influence of the intangible was over materialthings, and it presented no difficulty to

(14:26):
his mind that a disembodied spirit shouldbe able to communicate directly with those who
still were bounded by the finite andmaterial. His meditations, which were beginning
to group themselves into definite sequence,were interrupted at this moment. On his
desk near at hand stood his telephone, and the bell rang, not with

(14:50):
its usual metallic insistence, but veryfaintly, as if the current was weak
or the mechanism impaired. However,it certainly was ringing, and he got
up and took the combined ear andmouthpiece off its hook. Yes, yes,
he said, who is it?There was a whisper in reply,
almost inaudible and quite unintelligible. Ican't hear you, he said again.

(15:16):
The whispers sounded, but with nogreater distinctness than it ceased altogether. He
stood there for some half minute orso, waiting for it to be renewed.
But beyond the usual chuckling and croaking, which showed, however, that
he was in communication with some otherinstrument, there was silence. Then he

(15:37):
replaced the receiver, rang up theexchange and gave his number. Can you
tell me what the number rang meup just now? He asked. There
was a short pause, then itwas given to him. It was the
number of the prison where he wasthe doctor. Put me on to it,
please, he said, this wasdone. You rang me up just

(15:58):
now, he said down the tube. Yes, I am doctor Teasdale.
What is it? I could nothear what you said? The voice came
back, quite clear and intelligible.Some mistake, sir, it said,
We haven't rung you up, butthe exchange tells me you did three minutes
ago. Mistake at the exchange,sir, said the voice, very odd.

(16:21):
Well, good night, Warder Draycott, isn't it yes, sir?
Good night, sir. Doctor Teasdalewent back to his big armchair, Still
less inclined to read. He lethis thoughts wander on for a while without
giving them definite direction. But everand again his mind kept coming back to
that strange little incident of the telephone. Often and often he had been rung

(16:45):
up by some mistake. Often andoften he had been put on the wrong
number by the exchange. But therewas something in this very subdued ringing of
the telephone bell and the unintelligible whisperingsat the other end that suggested a very
curious train of reflection to his mind. And soon he found himself pacing up
and down his room, with histhoughts eagerly feeding on a most unusual pasture.

(17:11):
But it's impossible, he said aloud. He went down as usual to
the prison next morning, and onceagain he was strangely beset with the feeling
that there was some unseen presence there. He had before now had seen some
odd psychical experiences, and knew thathe was a sensitive one, that is,
who is capable, under certain circumstances, of receiving supernormal impressions and of

(17:37):
having glimpses of the unseen world thatlies about us. And this morning the
presence of which he was conscious wasthat of the man who had been executed
yesterday morning. It was local,and he felt it most strongly in the
little prison yard, And as hepassed the door of the condemned cell,
so strong was it there that hewould not have been surprised if the figure

(18:00):
of the man had been visible tohim. And as he passed through the
door at the end of the passage, he turned round, actually expecting to
see it. All the time,too, he was aware of the profound
horror at his heart. This unseenpresence strangely disturbed him, and the poor
soul he felt wanted something done forit. Not for a moment did he

(18:23):
doubt that this impression of his wasobjective. It was no imaginative phantom of
his own invention that made itself soreal. The spirit of Linkworth was there.
He passed into the infirmary and fora couple of hours busied himself with
his work, but all the timehe was aware that the same invisible presence

(18:45):
was near him, though its forcewas manifestly less here than in those places
which had been more intimately associated withthe man. Finally, before he left,
in order to test his theory,he looked into the execution, but
next moment, with a face suddenlystricken pale, he came out again,
closing the door hastily. At thetop of the steps stood a figure,

(19:08):
hooded and pinioned, but hazy ofoutline and only faintly visible. But it
was visible. There was no mistakeabout it. Doctor Teasdale was a man
of good nerve, and he recoveredhimself almost immediately, ashamed of his temporary
panic. The terror that had blanchedhis face was chiefly the effect of startled

(19:30):
nerves, not of terrified heart.And yet, deeply interested as he was
in psychical phenomena, he could notcommand himself sufficiently to go back there.
Or rather, he commanded himself,but his muscles refused to act on the
message. If this poor earth boundspirit had any communication to make to him.

(19:52):
He certainly much preferred that it shouldbe made at a distance. As
far as he could understand, itsrange was circumscribed. It haunted the prison
yard, the condemned cell, theexecution shed. It was more faintly felt
in the infirmary. Then a furtherpoint suggested itself to mind, and he
went back to his room and sentfor Werder Dreycott, who had answered him

(20:15):
on the telephone last night. Youare quite sure, he asked, that
nobody rang me up last night.Just before I rang you up. There
was a certain hesitation in the man'smanner which the doctor noticed. I don't
see how it could be possible,sir, he said, I had been
sitting close by the telephone for halfan hour before and again before that,

(20:37):
I must have seen him if anyone had been to the instrument, and
you saw no one, said thedoctor, with a slight emphasis. The
man became more markedly ill at ease. No, sir, I saw no
one, he said, with thesame emphasis. Doctor Teasdale looked away from
him. But you had perhaps theimpression and that there was someone there,

(21:00):
he asked, carelessly, as ifit was a point of no interest.
Clearly wardered Draycott had something on hismind which he found it hard to speak
of. Well, sir, ifyou put it like that, he began,
But you would tell me I washalf asleep or had eaten something that
disagreed with me at my supper.The doctor dropped his careless manner. I

(21:23):
should do nothing of the kind,he said, any more than you would
tell me that I had dropped asleeplast night. When I heard my telephone
bell ring, mind you, Draycott, it did not ring as usual.
I could only just hear it ringing, though it was close to me,
and I could only hear a whisperwhen I put my ear to it.

(21:44):
But when you spoke, I heardyou quite distinctly. Now I believe there
was something somebody at this end ofthe telephone. You were here, and
though you saw no one, youtoo thought there was someone there. The
man nodded. I'm not a nervousman, sir, he said, and
I don't deal in fancies. Butthere was something there. It was hovering

(22:10):
about the instrument. And it wasn'tthe wind, because there wasn't a breath
of wind stirring, and the nightwas warm, and I shut the window
to make certain. But it wentabout the room, sir, for an
hour or more. It rustled theleaves of the telephone book, and it
ruffled my hair when it came closeto me, and it was bitter cold,
sir. The doctor looked him straightin the face. Did it remind

(22:34):
you of what had been done yesterdaymorning? He asked? Suddenly again the
man hesitated, Yes, sir,he said at length, Convict Charles Linkworth.
Doctor Teasdale nodded reassuringly. That's it, he said. Now are you
on duty tonight? Yes, sir, I wish I wasn't. I know

(22:57):
how you feel. I have feltexact actually the same myself. Now,
whatever this is, it seems towant to communicate with me. By the
way, did you have any disturbancein the prison last night? Yes,
sir, there was half a dozenmen who had the nightmare, yelling and
screaming. They were and quiet mentoo. Usually it happens sometimes the night

(23:18):
after an execution. I've known itbefore, though nothing like what it was
last night. I see. Now, if this this thing you can't see,
wants to get at the telephone againtonight, give it every chance.
It will probably come about the sametime. I can't tell you why,

(23:38):
But that usually happens, so unlessyou must, don't be in this room
where the telephone is just for anhour to give it plenty of time between
half past nine and half past ten. I will be ready for it.
At the other end, supposing Iam rung up, I will when it
has finished, ring you up tomake sure that I was not being called

(24:00):
in in the usual way. Andthere is nothing to be afraid of,
sir, asked the man. DoctorTeasdale remembered his own moment of terror this
morning, but he spoke quite sincerely. I am sure there's nothing to be
afraid of, he said reassuringly.Doctor Teasdale had a dinner engagement that night,

(24:21):
which he broke, and was sittingalone in his study by half past
nine. In the present state ofhuman ignorance as to the law which governs
the movements of spirits severed from thebody. He could not tell the warder
why it was that their visits areso often periodic timed to punctuality according to
our scheme of hours, but inscenes of tabulated instances of the appearance of

(24:45):
revenance, especially if the soul wasin sore need of help, as might
be the case. Here he foundthat they came at the same hour of
day or night. As a ruleto their power of making themselves seen or
heard or felt, grew greater forsome little while after death, subsequently growing
weaker as they became less earth bound, or often after that, ceasing altogether.

(25:11):
And he was prepared tonight for aless indistinct impression. The spirit,
apparently, for the early hours ofits disembodiment, is weak, like a
moth newly broken out from its chrysalis. And then suddenly the telephone bell rang,
not so faintly as the night before, but still not with its ordinary
imperative tone. Doctor Teasdale instantly gotup, put the receiver to his ear,

(25:37):
and what he heard was heartbroken sobbing, strong spasms that seemed to tear
the weeper. He waited for alittle before speaking himself, cold with some
nameless fear, and yet profoundly movedto help if he was able. Yes,
yes, he said at length,hearing his own voice tremble. I
am Doctor Teasdale. What can Ido for you? And who are you?

(26:00):
He added, though he felt thatit was a needless question. Slowly
the sobbing died down the whispers tookits place, still broken by crying.
I want to tell, sir,I want to tell I must tell.
Yes, tell me what is it? Said the doctor. No, not
you, another gentleman who used tocome to see me. Will you speak

(26:23):
to him what I say to you. I can't make him hear me or
see me. Who are you,asked Doctor Teasdale. Suddenly, Charles Linkworth,
I thought you knew. I amvery miserable. I can't leave the
prison and it is cold. Willyou send for the other gentleman? Do

(26:44):
you mean the chaplain, asked DoctorTeasdale. Yes, the chaplain he read
the service when I went across theyard yesterday. I shan't be so miserable
when I have told The doctor hesitateda moment. This was a strange story
that he would have to tell misterDawkins, the prison chaplain, that at
the other end of the telephone wasthe spirit of the man executed yesterday.

(27:07):
And yet he soberly believed that itwas so that this unhappy spirit was in
misery and wanted to tell. Therewas no need to ask what he wanted
to tell. Yes, I willask him to come here, he said,
at length. Thank you sir athousand times. You will make him
come, won't you. The voicewas growing fainter. It must be tomorrow

(27:30):
night, it said, I can'tspeak longer. Now I have to go
see. Oh my god, mygod. The sobs broke out afresh,
sounding fainter and fainter. But itwas in a frenzy of terrified interest that
Doctor Teasdale spoke to see what.He cried, Tell me what you're doing?
What is happening to you? Ican't tell you. I mayn't tell

(27:52):
you, said the voice, veryfaintly. That is part, and it
died away altogether. Doctor Heysdale waiteda little, but there was no further
sound of any kind except the chucklingand croaking of the instrument. He put
the receiver onto its hook again,and then became aware for the first time
that his forehead was streaming with somecold dew of horror. His ears sang,

(28:18):
his heart beat very quick and faint, and he sat down to recover
himself. Once or twice, heasked himself if it was possible that some
terrible joke was being played on him, but he knew that could not be.
So he felt perfectly sure that hehad been speaking with a soul and
torment of contrition for the terrible andirremediable act it had committed. It was

(28:41):
no delusion of his senses either.Here in this comfortable room of his in
Bedford Square, with the London cheerfullyroaring around him, he had spoken with
the spirit of Charles Linkworth. Buthe had no time, nor indeed inclination,
for somehow his soul sat shuddering withinhim to indulge in meditation. First

(29:03):
of all, he rang up theprison ordered Draycott. He asked. There
was a perceptible tremor in the man'svoice as he answered, yes, sir,
is it doctor Teasdale? Yes?Has anything happened here with you?
Twice it seemed that the man triedto speak and could not. At the
third attempt the words came, yes, sir, he has been here.

(29:27):
I saw him go into the roomwhere the telephone is. Ah, did
you speak to him? No,sir. I sweated and prayed, And
there's half a dozen men as havebeen screaming in their sleep tonight. But
it's quiet again now. I thinkhe has gone into the execution shed.
Yes, well, I think therewill be no more disturbance now, by

(29:49):
the way, please give me misterDawkins's home address. This was given him,
and Doctor Teasdale proceeded to write tothe chaplain asking him to dine with
him on the following night. Butsuddenly he found that he could not write
at his accustomed desk with the telephonestanding close to him, and he went
upstairs to the drawing room, whichhe seldom used except when he entertained his

(30:11):
friends. There he recaptured the serenityof his nerves and could control his hand.
The note simply asked mister Dawkins todine with him the next night,
when he wished to tell him avery strange history and ask his help.
Even if you have any other engagement, he concluded, I seriously request you

(30:33):
to give it up tonight. Idid the same. I should bitterly have
regretted it if I had not.Next night, accordingly, the two sat
at their dinner in the doctor's diningroom, and when they were left to
their cigarettes and coffee, the doctorspoke, you must not think me mad,
my dear Dawkins, he said,When you hear what I have got
to tell you, mister Dawkins laughed, I will certainly promise not to do

(30:57):
that, he said last night andthe night before. A little later in
the evening than this, I spokethrough the telephone with the spirit of the
man we saw executed two days ago, Charles Linkworth. The chaplain, did
not laugh. He pushed back hischair, looking annoyed Teasdale, he said,

(31:17):
is it to tell me this?I don't want to be rude,
but this boogie tale that you havebrought me here this evening. Yes,
you have not heard half of it. He asked me last night to get
a hold of you. He wantsto tell you something we can guess.
I think what it is. Dawkinsgot up. Please let me hear no
more of it, he said.The dead do not return, and what

(31:40):
state or under what condition they existhas not been revealed to us. But
they have done with all material things. But I must tell you more,
said the doctor. Two nights agoI was rung up, but very faintly,
and could only hear whispers. Iinstantly inquired where the call came from,
and was told it came from theprison. I rang up the prison

(32:01):
and warder Draycutt told me that nobodyhad rung me up. He too was
conscious of a presence. I thinkthat man drinks, said Dawkins sharply.
The doctor paused a moment, Mydear fellow, you should not say that
sort of thing, he said.He is one of the steadiest men we
have got, and if he drinks, why not I also, The chaplain

(32:22):
sat down again. You must forgiveme, he said, But I can't
go into this. These are dangerousmatters to meddle with. Besides, how
do you know it is not ahoax played by whom? Asked the doctor
hark? The telephone bell suddenly rang. It was clearly audible to the doctor.
Don't you hear it? He said? Hear what the telephone bell ringing?

(32:45):
I hear no bell, said thechaplain rather angrily. There is no
bell ringing. The doctor did notanswer, but went through into his study
and turned on the lights. Thenhe took the receiver and mouthpiece off its
hook. Yeah, he said,in a voice that trembled. Who is
it. Yes, mister Dawkins ishere. I will try to get him

(33:07):
to speak to you. He wentback into the other room. Dawkins,
he said, there is a soulin agony. I pray you to listen
for God's sake, Come and listen. The chaplain hesitated a moment, as
you will, he said. Hetook up the receiver and put it to
his ear. I am mister Dawkins, he said. He waited. I

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can hear nothing whatever, he said. At length, there was something there,
the faintest whisper. Ah, tryto hear, try to hear,
said the doctor again. The chaplainlistened. Suddenly he laid the instrument down,
frowning something. Somebody said, Ikilled her. I confess it.
I want to be forgiven. It'sa hoax, my dear Teasdale. Somebody

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knowing your spiritualistic leanings, is playinga very grim joke on you. I
can't believe it. Doctor Teasdale tookup the receiver. I'm doctor Teasdale,
he said, can you give misterDawkins some sign that it is you?
Then he laid it down again.He says he thinks he can. He
said, we must wait. Theevening was again very warm, and the

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window into the paved yard at theback of the house was open. For
five minutes or so, the twomen stood in silence, waiting, and
nothing happened. Then the chaplain spoke, I think that is sufficiently conclusive,
he said. Even as he spoke, a very cold draft of air suddenly
blew into the room, making thepapers on the desk rustle. Doctor Teasdale

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went to the window and closed it. Did you feel that, he asked,
Yes, a breath of air chillyonce again in the closed room,
it stirred again. And did youfeel that? Asked the doctor. The
chaplain nodded. He felt his hearthammering in his throat. Suddenly, defend
us from all peril and danger ofthis coming night, he exclaimed. Something

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is coming, said the doctor.As he spoke, it came in the
center of the room. Not threeyards away from them, stood the figure
of a man, with his headbent over onto his shoulder so that the
face was not visible. Then hetook his head in both hands and raised
it like a weight, and lookedthem in the face. The eyes and

(35:22):
tongue protruded. A livid mark wasround the neck. Then there came a
sharp rattle on the boards of thefloor, and the figure was no longer
there, but on the floor therelay a new rope. For a long
while, neither spoke. The sweatpoured off the doctor's face and the chaplain's
white lips whispered prayers. Then,by a huge effort, the doctor pulled

(35:45):
himself together. He pointed at therope. It has been missing since the
execution, he said. Then againthe telephone bell rang. This time the
chaplain needed no prompting. He wentto it at once, and the ringing
ceased for a while. He listenedin silence. Charles Lankworth, he said,

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at length, in the sight ofGod, and whose presence you stand,
are you truly sorry for your sin? Some answer inaudible to the doctor
came, and the chaplain closed hiseyes, and doctor Teasdale knelt as he
heard the words of the absolution.At the close, there was silence again.
I can hear nothing more, saidthe chaplain, replacing the receiver.

(36:28):
Presently, the doctor's manservant came inwith the tray of spirits and siphon.
Doctor Teasdale pointed, without looking towhere the apparition had been, Take the
rope that is there and burn atParker, he said. There was a
moment's silence. There is no rope, Sir, said Parker,