September 14, 2023 • 40 mins
"Yes, you did well to awake," he said. "That warning came from your subconscious self, which never wholly slumbers, and cried out to you of deadly danger. For two reasons, then, you must help me: one to save others, the second to save yourself."
While M.R. James may lay claim to being the most influential of the classic ghost story writers, E.F. Benson is by far the most prolific. He penned more than 50 of what he called 'spook stories', and like James, his gothic tales also tend to centre on bachelors, who have the time to indulge their interests, usually to their detriment. Unlike James, however, his creepy tales can take place in society rather than in isolated churches or libraries. And he tends to place his tongue firmly in cheek.
Hear the extra bonus story at - https://newghoststories.substack.com/
Patrons help to keep this gothic podcast going. If you'd like to become one, just visit https://www.patreon.com/newghoststories
Tags: Classic ghost stories, ghost stories, traditional ghost stories, English gothic, UK gothic, UK horror, classic horror, old-fashioned horror, paranormal, spooky stories, spook stories.
While M.R. James may lay claim to being the most influential of the classic ghost story writers, E.F. Benson is by far the most prolific. He penned more than 50 of what he called 'spook stories', and like James, his gothic tales also tend to centre on bachelors, who have the time to indulge their interests, usually to their detriment. Unlike James, however, his creepy tales can take place in society rather than in isolated churches or libraries. And he tends to place his tongue firmly in cheek.
Hear the extra bonus story at - https://newghoststories.substack.com/
Patrons help to keep this gothic podcast going. If you'd like to become one, just visit https://www.patreon.com/newghoststories
Tags: Classic ghost stories, ghost stories, traditional ghost stories, English gothic, UK gothic, UK horror, classic horror, old-fashioned horror, paranormal, spooky stories, spook stories.
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Episode Transcript
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(00:22):
Welcome to another bonus episode of theNew ghost Stories podcast. Our next classic
reading is a story by E.F. Benson, by some way the
most prolific of all the supernatural storytellersof the classic period. If you enjoy
these classic readings, I've also publisheda bonus bonus episode over on my substack,
an unexpectedly horrific tale by Graham Green. I w'd like to give that
(00:45):
a listen. Just head on overto New ghost Stories dot substack dot com
and now onto our story, whichis called missus Amworth. I hope you
enjoyed. The village of Maxley,where summer and autumn these strange events took
place, lies on a heathery andpine clad upland of Sussex. In all
(01:07):
England, you could not find asweeter and saner situation. Should the wind
blow from the south, it comesladen with the spices of the sea.
To the east, high downs protectit from the inclemencies of march, and
from the west and the north,the breezes which reach it travel over miles
of aromatic forest and heather. Thevillage itself is insignificant enough in point of
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population, but rich in amenities andbeauty. Halfway down the single street,
with its broad road and spacious areasof grass on each side stands the little
Norman church and the antique graveyard,long disused. For the rest, there
are a dozen small sedate Georgian houses, red bricked and long windowed, each
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with a square of flower garden infront and an ample a strip behind.
A score of shops, and acouple of score of thatched cottages belonging to
laborers on neighboring estates complete the entirecluster of its peaceful habitations. The general
piece, however, is sadly brokenon Saturdays and Sundays, for we lie
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on one of the main roads betweenLondon and Brighton, and our quiet street
becomes a racecourse for flying motorcars andbicycles. A notice just outside the village
begging them to go slowly only seemsto encourage them to accelerate their speed,
for the road lies open and straight, and there is really no reason why
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they should do otherwise. By wayof protest, therefore, the ladies of
Maxley cover their noses and mouths withtheir handkerchiefs as they see a motorcar approaching,
although as the street is asphalted,they need not really take these precautions
against dust. But late on Saturdaynight the horde of scorchers has passed,
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and we settle down again to fivedays of cheerful and leisurely seclusion. Railway
strikes, which agitate the country somuch, leave us undisturbed, because most
of the inhabitants of Maxley never leaveit at all. I am the fortunate
possessor of one of these small Georgianhouses, and consider myself no less fortunate
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in having so interesting and stimulating aneighbor as Francis Irkham, who the most
confined of Maxleyites, has not sleptaway from his house, which stands just
opposite to mine in the village street, for nearly two years, at which
date, though still in the middlelife, he resigned his physiological professorship at
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Cambridge University and devoted himself to thestudy of those occult and curious phenomena which
seem equally to concern the physical andthe psychical sides of human nature. Indeed,
his retirement was not unconnected with hispassion for the strange, uncharted places
(04:06):
that lie on the confines and bordersof science, the existence of which is
so stoutly denied by the more materialisticminds. For he advocated that all medical
students should be obliged to pass somesort of examination in mesmerism, and that
(04:27):
one of the Tripo's papers should bedesigned to test their knowledge in such subjects
as appearances at the time of death, haunted houses, vampirism, automatic writing,
and possession. Of course, theywouldn't listen to me, ran his
account of the matter, for thereis nothing that these seats of learning are
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so frightened of as knowledge, andthe road to knowledge lies in the study
of things like these. The functionsof the human frame are broadly speaking known.
They are a country anyhow there's beencharted and mapped out. But outside
that lie huge tracts of undiscovered country, which certainly exist. And the real
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pioneers of knowledge are those who,at the cost of being derided as credulous
and superstitious, want to push oninto those misty and probably perilous places.
I felt that I could be ofmore use by setting out without a compass
or knapsack into the mists than bysitting in a cage like a canary and
(05:38):
chirping about what was known. Besidesteaching us very bad for a man who
knows himself only to be a learner, you only need to be a self
conceited ass to teach. Here.Then in Francis Herkam was a delightful neighbor
to one who, like myself,has an uneasy and burning curiosity about what
(06:00):
he called the misty and perilous places. And this last spring we had a
further and most welcome addition to ourpleasant little community, in the person of
missus Amworth, widow of an Indiancivil servant. Her husband had been a
judge in the Northwest Provinces, andafter his death at Peshawar, she came
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back to England, and after ayear in London, found herself starving for
the ampla air and sunshine of thecountry to take the place of the fogs
and grimness of town. She had, too, a special reason for settling
in Maxley, since her ancestors uptill a hundred years ago, had long
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been native to the place, andin the old churchyard, now disused on
many gravestones bearing her maiden name ofChaston. Big and energetic, her vigorous
and genial personality speasily woke Maxley upto a higher degree of soity than it
had ever known. Most of uswere bachelors, or spinsters or elderly folk,
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not much inclined to exert ourselves inthe expense an effort of hospitality,
and hitherto the gaiety of a smalltea party with bridge afterwards and galoshes when
it was wet. To trip homein again for a solitary dinner was about
the climax of our festivities. Butmissus Amworth showed us some more gregarious way
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and set an example of luncheon partiesand little dinners, which we began to
follow on other nights when no suchhospitality was on foot. A lone man
like myself found it pleasant to knowthat a call on a telephone to missus
Amworth's house not a hundred yards off, and an inquiry as to whether I
(07:49):
might come over after dinner for agame of piquet before bedtime would probably evoke
a response of welcome. There shewould be with a read like eagerness for
companionship, and there was a glassof port and a cup of coffee,
and a cigarette and a game ofpiquette. She played the piano too,
in a free and exuberant manner,and had a charming voice, and sang
(08:13):
to her own accompaniment. And asthe days grew long and the light lingered
late, he played our game inthe garden, which in the course of
a few months she had turned frombeing a nursery for slugs and snails into
a glowing patch of luxuriant blossoming.She was always cheery and jolly. She
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was interested in everything, and inmusic, in gardening, in games of
all sorts. Was a competent performer. Everybody, with one exception, liked
her. Everybody felt her to bringwith her the tonic of a sunny day.
That one exception was Francis Irkam.He, though he confessed he did
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not like her, acknowledge that hewas vastly interested in her. This always
seemed strange to me. For pleasantand jovial as she was, I could
see nothing in her that could callforth conjecture or intrigued surmise. As so
healthy and unmisterious a figure did shepresent, But of the genuineness of Irkham's
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interest there could be no doubt.One could see him watching and scrutinizing her.
In a matter of age. Shefrankly volunteered the information that she was
forty five, but her briskness,her activity, her unravid skin, her
coal black hair made it difficult tobelieve that she was not adopting an unusual
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device and adding ten years onto herage instead of subtracting them. Often,
also as our quite unsentimental friendship ripened, missus Amworth would bring me up and
propose her advent. If I wasbusy writing, I was to give her.
So we definitely bargained a frank negativean answer. I could hear her
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jolly laugh and her wishes for asuccessful evening of work. Sometimes before her
proposal arrived, irkam would already havestepped across from his house opposite for a
smoke and a chat, and he, hearing who my intended visitor, was,
always urged me to beg her tocome. She and I should play
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our piquette, said he, andhe would look on if we did not
object, and learn something of thegame. But I doubt whether he paid
much attention to it, for nothingcould be clearer than that under the penthouse
of forehead and thick eyebrows, hisattention was fixed not on the cards,
but won one of the players.We seem to enjoy an hours spent thus
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and often until one particular evening inJuly, he would watch her with the
air of a man who has somedeep problem in front of him. She
enthusiastically keen about our game, seemednot to notice his scrutiny. Then came
that evening, when, as Isee in the light of subsequent events,
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began the first twitching of the veilthat hid the secret horror from my eyes.
I did not know it then,though I noticed that thereafter, if
she rang up to propose coming around, she always asked not only if I
was at leisure, but whether FrancisIrkum was with me. If so,
she said she would not spoil thechat of two old bachelors, and laughingly
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wished me good night. Erkum onthis occasion had been with me for some
half hour before missus Amworth's appearance,and had been talking to me about the
medieval beliefs concerning vampirism, one ofthose borderland subjects, which he declared had
not been sufficiently studied before it hadbeen consigned by the medical profession to the
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dust heap of exploded superstitions. Therehe sat, grim and eager, racing
with that pellucid clearness which had madehim, in his Cambridge days, so
admirable a lecturer the history of thosemysterious visitations. In them all there were
the same general features. One ofthose coolest spirits took up its abode in
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a living man or woman, conferringsupernatural powers of bat like flight and glutting
itself with nocturnal blood feasts. Whenits host died, it continued to dwell
in the corpse, which remained undecayedby day. Rested by night, it
left the grave and went on itsawful errands. No European country in the
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Middle Ages seemed to have escaped themearlier, yet parallels were to be found
in Roman and Greek and in Jewishhistory. Its large order to set all
that evidence aside as being moonshine,he said, hundreds of totally independent witnesses
in many ages of testify to theoccurrence of these phenomena. And there's no
(13:03):
explanation known to me which covers allthe facts. And if you feel inclined
to say, why, then,if these are facts, do we not
come across them? Now? Thereare two answers I can make you.
One is that there were diseases knownin the Middle Ages, such as the
Black Death, which were certain existentthen and which have become extinct since.
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But for that reason we do notassert that such diseases never existed. Just
as the Black Death visited England anddecimated the population of Norfolk, so here
in this very district, about threehundred years ago, there was certainly an
outbreak of vampirism, and Maxley wasthe center of it. My second answer
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is even more convincing, for Itell you that vampirism is by no means
extinct now. An outbreak of itcertainly occurred in India or two ago.
At that moment, I heard myknock applied in the cheerful and peremptory manner
in which missus Amworth is accustomed toannounce her arrival. And I went to
the door to open it. Comein at once, I said, and
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save me from having my blood curdled. Mister Irkum has been trying to alarm
me. Instantly, her vital,voluminous presence seemed to fill the room.
Ah, but how lovely, shesaid, I delight in having my blood
curdled. Go on with your ghoststory, mister Irkum. I adore ghost
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stories. I saw that as hishabit was he was intently observing her.
It wasn't a ghost story exactly,said he. I was only telling our
host how vampirism was not extinct yet. I was saying that there was an
outbreak of it in India only afew years ago. There was a more
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than perceptible pause, and I sawthat if Erkam was observing her, she
on her side, was observing himwith fixed eye and parted mouth. Then
her jolly laugh invaded that rather tensesilence. Oh what a shame, she
said, You're not going to curdlemy blood at all. Where did you
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pick up such a tale, misterIrkam. I have lived for years in
India and never heard a rumor ofsuch a thing. Some storyteller in the
bazaars must have invented it. Theyare famous at that. I could see
that Erkam was on the point ofsaying something further, but checked himself.
Very likely that was it, hesaid. But something had disturbed or peaceful
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sociability that night, and something haddamped missus Amworth's usual high spirits. She
had no gusto for her piquet andleft after a couple of games. Ierkam
had been silent too. Indeed,he hardly spoke again until she departed.
That was unfortunate, he said,for the outbreak of a very mysterious disease
(16:07):
let us call it, that tookplace in Pashawa, where she and her
husband were, and well, Iasked he was one of the victims of
it. Naturally, I had quiteforgotten that when I spoke. That summer
was unreasonably hot and rainless, andMaxley suffered much from drought, and also
(16:32):
from a plague of big, black, night flying gnats, the bite of
which was very irritating and virulent.They came sailing in of an evening,
settling on one's skin so quietly thatone perceived nothing till the sharp stab announced
that one had been bitten. Theydid not bite the hands or face,
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but chose always the neck and throatfor their feeding ground, and most of
us, as the poison and spread, assumed a temporary goiter. Then,
about the middle of August, appearedthe first of those mysterious cases of illness,
which our local doctor attributed to thelong continued heat coupled with the bite
of these venomous insects. The patientwas a boy of sixteen or seventeen,
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the son of missus Amworth's gardener,and the symptoms were an anemic pallor and
a languid prostration, accompanied by greatdrowsiness and an abnormal appetite. He had
two on his throat, two smallpunctures, where so doctor Ross conjectured one
of these great gnats had bitten him. But the odd thing was that there
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was no swelling or inflammation round theplace where he had been bitten. The
heat at this time had begun toabate, but the cooler weather failed to
restore him, and the boy,in spite of the quantity of good food
which he so ravenously swallowed, wastedway to a skinclad skeleton. I met
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doctor Ross in the street one afternoonabout this time, and in answer to
my inquiries about his patient, hesaid that he was afraid the boy was
dying. The katy confessed completely puzzledhim. Some obscure form of pernicious anemia
was all he could suggest, Buthe wondered whether mister Irkam would consent to
see the boy on the chance ofhis being able to throw some new light
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on the case. And since Erkamwas dining with me that night, I
proposed to doctor Ross to join ushe could not do this, but said
he would look in later when hecame ierkam at once consented to put his
skill at the other's disposal, andtogether they went off at once. Being
the shorn of my sociable evening,I telephoned to missus Amworth to know if
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I might inflict myself on her foran hour. Her answer was a welcoming
affirmative. Her answer was a welcomingaffirmative, and between piquet and the music,
the hour length itself into two.She spoke of the boy who was
lying so desperately and mysteriously ill,and told me that she had often been
to see him, taking him nourishingin delicate food. But today, and
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her kind eyes moistened as she spoke, she was afraid she had paid her
last visit. Knowing the antipathy betweenher and Herkum, I did not tell
her that he had been called intoconsultation. And when I returned home,
she accompanied me to my door forthe sake of a breath of night air,
and in order to borrow a magazinewhich contained an article on gardening which
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she wished to read. Ah thisdelicious night air, she said, luxuriously
sniffing in the coolness night. Airand gardening are great tonics. There is
nothing so stimulating as bare contact withrich mother earth. You are never so
fresh as when you have been grubbingin the soil. Black hands, black
nails, and boots covered with mud. She gave her great jovial laugh.
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I'm a colle for air and earth. Positively, I look forward to death,
for then I should be buried andhave the kind of earth all round
me. No leaden caskets for me. I have given explicit directions, But
what shall I do about air?Well, I suppose one can't have everything.
The magazine a thousand thanks. Iwill faithfully return it. Good night,
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garden, and keep your windows open, and you won't have anemia.
I always sleep with my windows open, said I. They went straight up
to my bedroom, of which oneof the windows looks out over the street,
and as I undressed, I thoughtI heard voices talking outside, not
far away, but I paid noparticular attention, put out my lights,
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and, falling asleep, plunged intothe depths of a most horrible dream,
distortedly suggested no doubt by my lastwords with missus Amworth. I dreamed that
I woke and found that my bedroomwindows were shut. Half suffocating, I
dreamed that I sprang out of bedand went across to open them. The
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blind over the first was drawn down, and pulling it up, I saw,
with the indescribable horror of incipient nightmare, missus Amworth's face suspended close to
the pane in the darkness outside,nodding and smiling at me. Pulling down
the blind again to keep the terrorout, I rushed to the second window,
on the other side of the room, and there again was missus Amworth's
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face. Then the panic came uponme in full blast. Here was I
suffocating in the airless room. Whicheverwindow I opened, missus Amworth's face would
float in like those noiseless black gnatsthat bit before one was aware. The
nightmare rose to a screaming point,and with strangled yells, I awoke to
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find my room cool and quiet,with both windows open and blinds up,
and a half moon high in itscourse, casting an oblong of franquil light
on the floor. But even whenI was awake, the horror persisted,
and I lay tossing and turning.I must have slept long before the nightmare
seized me. For now. Itwas nearly day, and soon in the
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east the drowsy eyelids of morning beganto lift. I was scarcely downstairs next
morning after the dawn. I sleptlate when Erkum rang up to know if
he might see me immediately. Iwas scarcely downstairs next morning, for after
the dawn, I slept late whenErkum rang up to know if he might
see me immediately. He came in, grim and preoccupied, and I noticed
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that he was pulling on a pipethat was not even filled. I want
your help, he said, Andso I must tell you, first of
all what had happened last night.I went round with the little doctor to
see his patient and found him justalive, but scarcely more. I instantly
diagnosed in my own mind what thisanemia, unaccountable by any other explanation,
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meant. The boy is the preyof a vampire. He put his empty
pipe on the breakfast table by whichI had just sat down, and folded
his arms, looking at me steadilyfrom under his overhanging brows. About last
night, he said. I insistedthat he should be moved from his father's
cottage into my house. As wewere carrying him on a stretcher. Whom
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should we meet but missus Amworth,She expressed, shocked, surprised that we
were moving him. Now, whydo you think she did that? With
a start of horror, as Iremembered my dream that night before, I
felt an idea come into my mindso preposterous and unthinkable that I instantly turned
it out again. I haven't thesmallest idea, I said, Then listen,
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will I tell you about what happened. Later, they put out all
light in the room where the boylay and I watched. One window was
a little open, for I hadforgotten to close it, and about midnight
I heard something outside, trying apparentlyto push it further open. I guessed
who it was. Yes, itwas full twenty feet from the ground,
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and I peeped round the corner ofthe blind. Just outside was the face
of missus Amworth, and her handwas on the frame of the window.
Very softly. I crept close andthen bang the window down, and I
think I just caught the tip ofone of her fingers. But it's impossible,
I cried, How could she befloating in the air like that?
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What did she come for? Oncemore, with closer grip. A remembrance
of my nightmare seized me. I'mtelling you what I saw, said he,
And all night long, until itwas nearly day, she was fluttering
outside like some terrible bat, tryingto gain admittance. Now, put together
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various things I've told you, hebegan checking them off on his finger.
Us Number one, he said,there was an outbreak of disease similar to
that which this boy is suffering fromin Peshawa, and her husband died of
it. Number two, missus Amworthprotested against my moving the boy to my
house. Number three, she orthe demon that inhabits her body, a
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creature powerful and deadly, tries togain admittance. And this too. In
medieval times there was an epidemic ofvampirism here at Maxley the Vampire, So
the account's run was found to beElizabeth Chaston. I see you remember missus
Amworth's maiden name. Finally, theboy is stronger this morning. He would
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certainly not have been alive if hehad been visited again. And what do
you make of it? There wasa long silence during which I found this
incredible horror, assuming the hues ofreality. I have something to add I
said, which may or may notbear on it. You say that the
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specter went away shortly before dawn.Yes, I told him of my dream,
and he smiled grimly. Yes,you did well to wake. That
warning came from your subconscious self,which never wholly slumbers, and cried out
to you of deadly danger. Fortwo reasons, then you must help me,
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One to save others, the secondto save yourself. What do you
want me to do, I asked. I want you first of all to
help me in watching this boy andensuring that she does not come near him.
Eventually. I want you to helpme in tracking the thing down,
in exposing and destroying it. Itis not human, it is an incarnate
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beamed. What steps we shall haveto take, I don't know yet.
It was now eleven of the forenoon, and presently I went to Ross
to his house for a twelve hourvigil while he slept, to come on
duty again that night, so thatfor the next twenty four hours, either
Irkum or myself was always in theroom where the boy, now getting stronger
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every hour, was lying. Theday following was Saturday, and a morning
of brilliant pellucid weather, and alreadywhen I went across to his house to
resume my duty. The stream ofmotors down to Brighton had begun. Simultaneously.
I saw Irkum with a cheerful face, which boded good news of his
patient, coming out of his house, and missus Amworth, with a gesture
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of salutation to me and a basketin her hand, walking up the broad
strip of grass which bordered the road. There we all three met. I
noticed and saw that Irkum noticed ittoo. The one finger of her left
hand was bandaged. Good morning toyou both, said she and I hear
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your patient is doing well, misterIrkham. I have come to bring him
a bowl of jelly and to sitwith him for an hour. He and
I are great friends. I amoverjoyed at his recovery. Erkam paused a
moment as if making up his mind, and then shot out a pointing finger
at her. I forbid that youshall not sit with him or see him.
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And you know the reason as wellas I do. I have never
seen a horrible change pass over ahuman face as that which now blanched hers
to the color of a gray mist. She put up her hand as if
to shield herself from that pointing finger, which drew the sign of the cross
in the air and shrank back.Carwering onto the road. There was a
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wild hoot from a horn, agrinding of brakes, a shout too late
from a passing car, and onelong scream suddenly cut short. Her body
rebounded from the roadway, after thefirst wheel had gone over it, and
the second followed. It lay therequivering and twitching, and then was still.
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She was buried three days afterwards inthe cemetery outside Maxley, in accordance
with the wishes she had told methat she had devised about her interment,
and the shock which sudden and awfuldeath had caused to the little community began
by degrees to pass off to twopeople only, Irkham and myself. The
horror of it was mitigated from thefirst by the nature of the relief that
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her death brought, But naturally enoughwe kept our own counsel, and no
hint of what greater horror had beenthus averted was ever let slip. But
oddly enough so it seemed to mehe was still not satisfied about something in
connection with her, and would giveno answer to my questions on the subject.
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Then, as the days of tranquil, mellow, set stember, and
the October that followed began to dropaway like the leaves of the yellowing trees,
as uneasiness relaxed. But before theentry of November, the seeming tranquility
broke into a hurricane. I hadbeen dining one night at the far end
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of the village at about eleven o'clockwas walking home again. The moon was
of an unusual brilliance, rendering allthat it shone on as distinct as in
some etching. I had just comeopposite the house which missus Amworth had occupied,
where there was a board up tellingthat it was to let when I
heard the click of her front gate, and the next moment I saw,
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with sudden chill and quaking of myvery spirit, that she stood there.
Her profile, vividly illuminated, wasturning to me, and I could not
be mistaken in my identification of her. She appeared not to see me.
Indeed, the shadow of the uhedge in front of her garden enveloped me,
and it's black, And she wentswiftly across the road and entered the
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gate of the house directly opposite.Now I lost sight of her completely.
My breath was coming in short pants, as if I had been running,
And now indeed I ran with fearfulbackward glances along the hundred yards that separated
me from my house and rkm's.It was to hear that my flying steps
took me, and next minute Iwas within. What have you come to
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tell me? He asked? Orshall I guess? You can't guess?
Said I, No, it's noguess. She has come back, and
you have seen her. Tell meabout it. I gave him my story.
That's Major Purcell's house, he said, come back with me there at
once. But what can we do? I've no idea. That's why we've
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got to find out. A minutelater we were opposite the house. When
I had passed it before, itwas all dark. Now lights gleamed from
a couple of windows upstairs. Evenas we faced it, the front door
opened, and the next moment MajorPurcell emerged from the gate. He saw
us and stopped. I'm on myway to doctor Ross, he said quickly.
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My wife has been taken suddenly ill. She had been in bed an
hour when I came upstairs, andI found her white as a ghost and
utterly exhausted. She had been tosleep, it seemed. But you will
excuse me one moment, Major,said Erkam. Was there any mark on
her throat? How did you guessthat? Said he. There was one
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of those beastly gnats must have bittenher twice. There she was streaming with
blood. And there's someone with her, asked Irkham. Yes, I roused
her maid. He went off,and Erkam turned to me. I know
now what we have to do,he said. Change your clothes and I'll
join you at your house. Whatis it, I asked, I'll tell
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you on our way, But goingto the cemetery, he carried a pick,
a shovel, and a screwdriver whenhe rejoined me, and wore round
his shoulders a long coil of rope. As we walked, he gave me
the outlines of the ghastly hour thatlay before us. What I have to
tell you, he said, willseem to you now too fantastic for credence.
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But before dawn we shall see whetherit outstrips reality. By a most
fortunate happening, you saw the specter, the astral body, whatever you choose
to call it, of missus Amworthgoing on about its grizzly business and Therefore,
beyond doubt, the vampire spirit,which abode in her during life,
annamates her gain in death. Thatis not exceptional. Indeed, all these
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weeks since her death, I havebeen expecting it. If I am right,
we shall find her body undecayed anduntouched by corruption. She's been dead
nearly two months, said I.If she had been dead two years,
it would still be so if thevaire has possession of her. So remember,
whatever you see done, it willbe done not to her, who,
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in the natural course, would nowbe feeding the grasses above her grave,
but to a spirit of untold eviland malignancy, which gives a phantom
life to her body. For whatshall I see done? Said I.
I will tell you. We knowthat now at this moment the vampire,
clad in her mortal semblance, isout dining out. But he must get
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back before dawn, and it willpass into the material form that lies in
her grave. We must wait forthat, and then with your help,
I shall digg up her body.If I am right, you will look
upon her as she was in life, with the full vigor of the dreadful
nutriment she has received pulsing in herveins. And then when dawn has come
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and the vampire cannot leave the layerof her body, I shall strike her
with this, and he pointed tohis pick through the heart. And she
who comes to life again only withthe animation the fiend gives her, she
and her hellish partner will be dead. Indeed, then we must bury her
again. Delivered at last we hadcome to the cemetery, and in the
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brightness of the moonshine, there wasno difficulty in identifying her grave. It
lay some twenty yards from the smallchapel, in the porch of which,
obscured by shadow, we concealed ourselves. From there we had a clear and
open sight of the grave. Andnow we must wait till its infernal visitor
returned home. The night was warmand windless, and yet even if a
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freezing wind had been raging, Ithink I should have felt nothing of it,
so intense was my preoccupation as towhat the night and dawn would bring.
There was a bell in the turretof the chapel that struck the quarters
of the hour, and it amazedme to find how swiftly the chimes succeeded
one another. The moon long set, but a twilight of stars shone in
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a clear sky. When five o'clockof the morning sounded from the turret.
A few minutes more passed, andthen I fell to Irkum's hands, softly
nudging me, and looking out inthe direction of his pointing finger, I
saw that the form of a woman, tall and large and build was approaching
from the right, noiselessly, witha motion more of gliding and floating than
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walking. She moved across the cemeteryto the grave, which was the center
of our observation. She moved roundit, as if to be certain of
its identity, and for a momentstood directly facing us. In the grayness
to which now my eyes had grownaccustomed, I could easily see her face
and recognize its features. She drewher hand across her mouth, as if
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wiping it, and broke into achuckle of such laughter as made my hair
stir on my head. Then sheleaped on to the grave, holding her
hands high above her head. Aninch by inch disappeared into the earth.
Erkum's hand was laid on my armand injunction to keep still, But now
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he removed it. Come, hesaid, with pick and shovel and rope,
we went to the grave. Theearth was light and sandy, and
soon after six struck. We haddelved down to the coffin lid. With
this pick, he loosened the earthround it and adjusted the rope through the
handles by which it had been lowered. We tried to raise it. This
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was a long and laborious business,and the light had begun to herald day
in the east before we had itout. And lying by the side of
the grave, with this screwdriver,he loosened the fastenings of the lid and
slid it aside. And standing therewe looked on the face of missus Amworth.
The eyes, once closed in death, were open, the cheeks were
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flushed with color. The red,full lipped mouth seemed to smile. One
blow. When it is all over, he said, you need not look.
Even as he spoke, he tookup the pick again, and,
laying the point of it on herleft breast, measured his distance, and
though I knew what was coming,I could not look away. He grasped
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the pick in both hands, raisedit an inch or two for the taking
of his arm, and then withfull force, brought it down on her
breast a fountain of blood. Thoughshe had been dead so long, spouted
high in the air, failing witha thud of a heavy splash over the
shroud. And simultaneously from those redlips came one long, appalling cry,
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swelling up like some hooting siren,and dying away again with that, instantaneous
as a lightning flash came the touchof corruption on her face. The color
of it faded to ash. Theplump cheeks fell in the mouth dropped.
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Thank god, that's over, saidhe, and without pause, slipped the
coffin lid back into its place.Day was coming fast now, and working
like men possessed. We lowered thecoffin into its place again and shoveled the
earth over it. The birds werebusy with their earliest pipings as we went
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back to Maxley. Thank you forlistening to the New Ghost Stories podcast.
If you've enjoyed the podcast and wouldlike to support what I do, please
consider leaving a review on any platformand subscribing to hear future releases. You
(39:51):
also become a patron and enjoy somebonus content by signing up at patreon dot
com slash New ghost Stories. Thispodcas cast is written, presented, and
produced by David pol Nixon. Ifyou'd like to find out more about New
ghost Stories, visit my website newghostStories dot substack dot com, and to
get all the latest from me,follow me on Twitter, Instagram and mastered
(40:14):
on at New ghost Stories. Nexttime on the New ghost Stories podcast,
Season four begins on a dangerous stretchof road,
Welcome to another bonus episode of theNew ghost Stories podcast. Our next classic
reading is a story by E.F. Benson, by some way the
most prolific of all the supernatural storytellersof the classic period. If you enjoy
these classic readings, I've also publisheda bonus bonus episode over on my substack,
an unexpectedly horrific tale by Graham Green. I w'd like to give that
(00:45):
a listen. Just head on overto New ghost Stories dot substack dot com
and now onto our story, whichis called missus Amworth. I hope you
enjoyed. The village of Maxley,where summer and autumn these strange events took
place, lies on a heathery andpine clad upland of Sussex. In all
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England, you could not find asweeter and saner situation. Should the wind
blow from the south, it comesladen with the spices of the sea.
To the east, high downs protectit from the inclemencies of march, and
from the west and the north,the breezes which reach it travel over miles
of aromatic forest and heather. Thevillage itself is insignificant enough in point of
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population, but rich in amenities andbeauty. Halfway down the single street,
with its broad road and spacious areasof grass on each side stands the little
Norman church and the antique graveyard,long disused. For the rest, there
are a dozen small sedate Georgian houses, red bricked and long windowed, each
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with a square of flower garden infront and an ample a strip behind.
A score of shops, and acouple of score of thatched cottages belonging to
laborers on neighboring estates complete the entirecluster of its peaceful habitations. The general
piece, however, is sadly brokenon Saturdays and Sundays, for we lie
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on one of the main roads betweenLondon and Brighton, and our quiet street
becomes a racecourse for flying motorcars andbicycles. A notice just outside the village
begging them to go slowly only seemsto encourage them to accelerate their speed,
for the road lies open and straight, and there is really no reason why
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they should do otherwise. By wayof protest, therefore, the ladies of
Maxley cover their noses and mouths withtheir handkerchiefs as they see a motorcar approaching,
although as the street is asphalted,they need not really take these precautions
against dust. But late on Saturdaynight the horde of scorchers has passed,
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and we settle down again to fivedays of cheerful and leisurely seclusion. Railway
strikes, which agitate the country somuch, leave us undisturbed, because most
of the inhabitants of Maxley never leaveit at all. I am the fortunate
possessor of one of these small Georgianhouses, and consider myself no less fortunate
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in having so interesting and stimulating aneighbor as Francis Irkham, who the most
confined of Maxleyites, has not sleptaway from his house, which stands just
opposite to mine in the village street, for nearly two years, at which
date, though still in the middlelife, he resigned his physiological professorship at
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Cambridge University and devoted himself to thestudy of those occult and curious phenomena which
seem equally to concern the physical andthe psychical sides of human nature. Indeed,
his retirement was not unconnected with hispassion for the strange, uncharted places
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that lie on the confines and bordersof science, the existence of which is
so stoutly denied by the more materialisticminds. For he advocated that all medical
students should be obliged to pass somesort of examination in mesmerism, and that
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one of the Tripo's papers should bedesigned to test their knowledge in such subjects
as appearances at the time of death, haunted houses, vampirism, automatic writing,
and possession. Of course, theywouldn't listen to me, ran his
account of the matter, for thereis nothing that these seats of learning are
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so frightened of as knowledge, andthe road to knowledge lies in the study
of things like these. The functionsof the human frame are broadly speaking known.
They are a country anyhow there's beencharted and mapped out. But outside
that lie huge tracts of undiscovered country, which certainly exist. And the real
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pioneers of knowledge are those who,at the cost of being derided as credulous
and superstitious, want to push oninto those misty and probably perilous places.
I felt that I could be ofmore use by setting out without a compass
or knapsack into the mists than bysitting in a cage like a canary and
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chirping about what was known. Besidesteaching us very bad for a man who
knows himself only to be a learner, you only need to be a self
conceited ass to teach. Here.Then in Francis Herkam was a delightful neighbor
to one who, like myself,has an uneasy and burning curiosity about what
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he called the misty and perilous places. And this last spring we had a
further and most welcome addition to ourpleasant little community, in the person of
missus Amworth, widow of an Indiancivil servant. Her husband had been a
judge in the Northwest Provinces, andafter his death at Peshawar, she came
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back to England, and after ayear in London, found herself starving for
the ampla air and sunshine of thecountry to take the place of the fogs
and grimness of town. She had, too, a special reason for settling
in Maxley, since her ancestors uptill a hundred years ago, had long
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been native to the place, andin the old churchyard, now disused on
many gravestones bearing her maiden name ofChaston. Big and energetic, her vigorous
and genial personality speasily woke Maxley upto a higher degree of soity than it
had ever known. Most of uswere bachelors, or spinsters or elderly folk,
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not much inclined to exert ourselves inthe expense an effort of hospitality,
and hitherto the gaiety of a smalltea party with bridge afterwards and galoshes when
it was wet. To trip homein again for a solitary dinner was about
the climax of our festivities. Butmissus Amworth showed us some more gregarious way
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and set an example of luncheon partiesand little dinners, which we began to
follow on other nights when no suchhospitality was on foot. A lone man
like myself found it pleasant to knowthat a call on a telephone to missus
Amworth's house not a hundred yards off, and an inquiry as to whether I
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might come over after dinner for agame of piquet before bedtime would probably evoke
a response of welcome. There shewould be with a read like eagerness for
companionship, and there was a glassof port and a cup of coffee,
and a cigarette and a game ofpiquette. She played the piano too,
in a free and exuberant manner,and had a charming voice, and sang
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to her own accompaniment. And asthe days grew long and the light lingered
late, he played our game inthe garden, which in the course of
a few months she had turned frombeing a nursery for slugs and snails into
a glowing patch of luxuriant blossoming.She was always cheery and jolly. She
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was interested in everything, and inmusic, in gardening, in games of
all sorts. Was a competent performer. Everybody, with one exception, liked
her. Everybody felt her to bringwith her the tonic of a sunny day.
That one exception was Francis Irkam.He, though he confessed he did
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not like her, acknowledge that hewas vastly interested in her. This always
seemed strange to me. For pleasantand jovial as she was, I could
see nothing in her that could callforth conjecture or intrigued surmise. As so
healthy and unmisterious a figure did shepresent, But of the genuineness of Irkham's
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interest there could be no doubt.One could see him watching and scrutinizing her.
In a matter of age. Shefrankly volunteered the information that she was
forty five, but her briskness,her activity, her unravid skin, her
coal black hair made it difficult tobelieve that she was not adopting an unusual
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device and adding ten years onto herage instead of subtracting them. Often,
also as our quite unsentimental friendship ripened, missus Amworth would bring me up and
propose her advent. If I wasbusy writing, I was to give her.
So we definitely bargained a frank negativean answer. I could hear her
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jolly laugh and her wishes for asuccessful evening of work. Sometimes before her
proposal arrived, irkam would already havestepped across from his house opposite for a
smoke and a chat, and he, hearing who my intended visitor, was,
always urged me to beg her tocome. She and I should play
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our piquette, said he, andhe would look on if we did not
object, and learn something of thegame. But I doubt whether he paid
much attention to it, for nothingcould be clearer than that under the penthouse
of forehead and thick eyebrows, hisattention was fixed not on the cards,
but won one of the players.We seem to enjoy an hours spent thus
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and often until one particular evening inJuly, he would watch her with the
air of a man who has somedeep problem in front of him. She
enthusiastically keen about our game, seemednot to notice his scrutiny. Then came
that evening, when, as Isee in the light of subsequent events,
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began the first twitching of the veilthat hid the secret horror from my eyes.
I did not know it then,though I noticed that thereafter, if
she rang up to propose coming around, she always asked not only if I
was at leisure, but whether FrancisIrkum was with me. If so,
she said she would not spoil thechat of two old bachelors, and laughingly
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wished me good night. Erkum onthis occasion had been with me for some
half hour before missus Amworth's appearance,and had been talking to me about the
medieval beliefs concerning vampirism, one ofthose borderland subjects, which he declared had
not been sufficiently studied before it hadbeen consigned by the medical profession to the
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dust heap of exploded superstitions. Therehe sat, grim and eager, racing
with that pellucid clearness which had madehim, in his Cambridge days, so
admirable a lecturer the history of thosemysterious visitations. In them all there were
the same general features. One ofthose coolest spirits took up its abode in
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a living man or woman, conferringsupernatural powers of bat like flight and glutting
itself with nocturnal blood feasts. Whenits host died, it continued to dwell
in the corpse, which remained undecayedby day. Rested by night, it
left the grave and went on itsawful errands. No European country in the
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Middle Ages seemed to have escaped themearlier, yet parallels were to be found
in Roman and Greek and in Jewishhistory. Its large order to set all
that evidence aside as being moonshine,he said, hundreds of totally independent witnesses
in many ages of testify to theoccurrence of these phenomena. And there's no
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explanation known to me which covers allthe facts. And if you feel inclined
to say, why, then,if these are facts, do we not
come across them? Now? Thereare two answers I can make you.
One is that there were diseases knownin the Middle Ages, such as the
Black Death, which were certain existentthen and which have become extinct since.
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But for that reason we do notassert that such diseases never existed. Just
as the Black Death visited England anddecimated the population of Norfolk, so here
in this very district, about threehundred years ago, there was certainly an
outbreak of vampirism, and Maxley wasthe center of it. My second answer
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is even more convincing, for Itell you that vampirism is by no means
extinct now. An outbreak of itcertainly occurred in India or two ago.
At that moment, I heard myknock applied in the cheerful and peremptory manner
in which missus Amworth is accustomed toannounce her arrival. And I went to
the door to open it. Comein at once, I said, and
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save me from having my blood curdled. Mister Irkum has been trying to alarm
me. Instantly, her vital,voluminous presence seemed to fill the room.
Ah, but how lovely, shesaid, I delight in having my blood
curdled. Go on with your ghoststory, mister Irkum. I adore ghost
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stories. I saw that as hishabit was he was intently observing her.
It wasn't a ghost story exactly,said he. I was only telling our
host how vampirism was not extinct yet. I was saying that there was an
outbreak of it in India only afew years ago. There was a more
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than perceptible pause, and I sawthat if Erkam was observing her, she
on her side, was observing himwith fixed eye and parted mouth. Then
her jolly laugh invaded that rather tensesilence. Oh what a shame, she
said, You're not going to curdlemy blood at all. Where did you
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pick up such a tale, misterIrkam. I have lived for years in
India and never heard a rumor ofsuch a thing. Some storyteller in the
bazaars must have invented it. Theyare famous at that. I could see
that Erkam was on the point ofsaying something further, but checked himself.
Very likely that was it, hesaid. But something had disturbed or peaceful
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sociability that night, and something haddamped missus Amworth's usual high spirits. She
had no gusto for her piquet andleft after a couple of games. Ierkam
had been silent too. Indeed,he hardly spoke again until she departed.
That was unfortunate, he said,for the outbreak of a very mysterious disease
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let us call it, that tookplace in Pashawa, where she and her
husband were, and well, Iasked he was one of the victims of
it. Naturally, I had quiteforgotten that when I spoke. That summer
was unreasonably hot and rainless, andMaxley suffered much from drought, and also
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from a plague of big, black, night flying gnats, the bite of
which was very irritating and virulent.They came sailing in of an evening,
settling on one's skin so quietly thatone perceived nothing till the sharp stab announced
that one had been bitten. Theydid not bite the hands or face,
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but chose always the neck and throatfor their feeding ground, and most of
us, as the poison and spread, assumed a temporary goiter. Then,
about the middle of August, appearedthe first of those mysterious cases of illness,
which our local doctor attributed to thelong continued heat coupled with the bite
of these venomous insects. The patientwas a boy of sixteen or seventeen,
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the son of missus Amworth's gardener,and the symptoms were an anemic pallor and
a languid prostration, accompanied by greatdrowsiness and an abnormal appetite. He had
two on his throat, two smallpunctures, where so doctor Ross conjectured one
of these great gnats had bitten him. But the odd thing was that there
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was no swelling or inflammation round theplace where he had been bitten. The
heat at this time had begun toabate, but the cooler weather failed to
restore him, and the boy,in spite of the quantity of good food
which he so ravenously swallowed, wastedway to a skinclad skeleton. I met
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doctor Ross in the street one afternoonabout this time, and in answer to
my inquiries about his patient, hesaid that he was afraid the boy was
dying. The katy confessed completely puzzledhim. Some obscure form of pernicious anemia
was all he could suggest, Buthe wondered whether mister Irkam would consent to
see the boy on the chance ofhis being able to throw some new light
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on the case. And since Erkamwas dining with me that night, I
proposed to doctor Ross to join ushe could not do this, but said
he would look in later when hecame ierkam at once consented to put his
skill at the other's disposal, andtogether they went off at once. Being
the shorn of my sociable evening,I telephoned to missus Amworth to know if
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I might inflict myself on her foran hour. Her answer was a welcoming
affirmative. Her answer was a welcomingaffirmative, and between piquet and the music,
the hour length itself into two.She spoke of the boy who was
lying so desperately and mysteriously ill,and told me that she had often been
to see him, taking him nourishingin delicate food. But today, and
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her kind eyes moistened as she spoke, she was afraid she had paid her
last visit. Knowing the antipathy betweenher and Herkum, I did not tell
her that he had been called intoconsultation. And when I returned home,
she accompanied me to my door forthe sake of a breath of night air,
and in order to borrow a magazinewhich contained an article on gardening which
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she wished to read. Ah thisdelicious night air, she said, luxuriously
sniffing in the coolness night. Airand gardening are great tonics. There is
nothing so stimulating as bare contact withrich mother earth. You are never so
fresh as when you have been grubbingin the soil. Black hands, black
nails, and boots covered with mud. She gave her great jovial laugh.
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I'm a colle for air and earth. Positively, I look forward to death,
for then I should be buried andhave the kind of earth all round
me. No leaden caskets for me. I have given explicit directions, But
what shall I do about air?Well, I suppose one can't have everything.
The magazine a thousand thanks. Iwill faithfully return it. Good night,
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garden, and keep your windows open, and you won't have anemia.
I always sleep with my windows open, said I. They went straight up
to my bedroom, of which oneof the windows looks out over the street,
and as I undressed, I thoughtI heard voices talking outside, not
far away, but I paid noparticular attention, put out my lights,
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and, falling asleep, plunged intothe depths of a most horrible dream,
distortedly suggested no doubt by my lastwords with missus Amworth. I dreamed that
I woke and found that my bedroomwindows were shut. Half suffocating, I
dreamed that I sprang out of bedand went across to open them. The
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blind over the first was drawn down, and pulling it up, I saw,
with the indescribable horror of incipient nightmare, missus Amworth's face suspended close to
the pane in the darkness outside,nodding and smiling at me. Pulling down
the blind again to keep the terrorout, I rushed to the second window,
on the other side of the room, and there again was missus Amworth's
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face. Then the panic came uponme in full blast. Here was I
suffocating in the airless room. Whicheverwindow I opened, missus Amworth's face would
float in like those noiseless black gnatsthat bit before one was aware. The
nightmare rose to a screaming point,and with strangled yells, I awoke to
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find my room cool and quiet,with both windows open and blinds up,
and a half moon high in itscourse, casting an oblong of franquil light
on the floor. But even whenI was awake, the horror persisted,
and I lay tossing and turning.I must have slept long before the nightmare
seized me. For now. Itwas nearly day, and soon in the
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east the drowsy eyelids of morning beganto lift. I was scarcely downstairs next
morning after the dawn. I sleptlate when Erkum rang up to know if
he might see me immediately. Iwas scarcely downstairs next morning, for after
the dawn, I slept late whenErkum rang up to know if he might
see me immediately. He came in, grim and preoccupied, and I noticed
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that he was pulling on a pipethat was not even filled. I want
your help, he said, Andso I must tell you, first of
all what had happened last night.I went round with the little doctor to
see his patient and found him justalive, but scarcely more. I instantly
diagnosed in my own mind what thisanemia, unaccountable by any other explanation,
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meant. The boy is the preyof a vampire. He put his empty
pipe on the breakfast table by whichI had just sat down, and folded
his arms, looking at me steadilyfrom under his overhanging brows. About last
night, he said. I insistedthat he should be moved from his father's
cottage into my house. As wewere carrying him on a stretcher. Whom
(23:22):
should we meet but missus Amworth,She expressed, shocked, surprised that we
were moving him. Now, whydo you think she did that? With
a start of horror, as Iremembered my dream that night before, I
felt an idea come into my mindso preposterous and unthinkable that I instantly turned
it out again. I haven't thesmallest idea, I said, Then listen,
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will I tell you about what happened. Later, they put out all
light in the room where the boylay and I watched. One window was
a little open, for I hadforgotten to close it, and about midnight
I heard something outside, trying apparentlyto push it further open. I guessed
who it was. Yes, itwas full twenty feet from the ground,
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and I peeped round the corner ofthe blind. Just outside was the face
of missus Amworth, and her handwas on the frame of the window.
Very softly. I crept close andthen bang the window down, and I
think I just caught the tip ofone of her fingers. But it's impossible,
I cried, How could she befloating in the air like that?
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What did she come for? Oncemore, with closer grip. A remembrance
of my nightmare seized me. I'mtelling you what I saw, said he,
And all night long, until itwas nearly day, she was fluttering
outside like some terrible bat, tryingto gain admittance. Now, put together
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various things I've told you, hebegan checking them off on his finger.
Us Number one, he said,there was an outbreak of disease similar to
that which this boy is suffering fromin Peshawa, and her husband died of
it. Number two, missus Amworthprotested against my moving the boy to my
house. Number three, she orthe demon that inhabits her body, a
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creature powerful and deadly, tries togain admittance. And this too. In
medieval times there was an epidemic ofvampirism here at Maxley the Vampire, So
the account's run was found to beElizabeth Chaston. I see you remember missus
Amworth's maiden name. Finally, theboy is stronger this morning. He would
(25:45):
certainly not have been alive if hehad been visited again. And what do
you make of it? There wasa long silence during which I found this
incredible horror, assuming the hues ofreality. I have something to add I
said, which may or may notbear on it. You say that the
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specter went away shortly before dawn.Yes, I told him of my dream,
and he smiled grimly. Yes,you did well to wake. That
warning came from your subconscious self,which never wholly slumbers, and cried out
to you of deadly danger. Fortwo reasons, then you must help me,
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One to save others, the secondto save yourself. What do you
want me to do, I asked. I want you first of all to
help me in watching this boy andensuring that she does not come near him.
Eventually. I want you to helpme in tracking the thing down,
in exposing and destroying it. Itis not human, it is an incarnate
(26:51):
beamed. What steps we shall haveto take, I don't know yet.
It was now eleven of the forenoon, and presently I went to Ross
to his house for a twelve hourvigil while he slept, to come on
duty again that night, so thatfor the next twenty four hours, either
Irkum or myself was always in theroom where the boy, now getting stronger
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every hour, was lying. Theday following was Saturday, and a morning
of brilliant pellucid weather, and alreadywhen I went across to his house to
resume my duty. The stream ofmotors down to Brighton had begun. Simultaneously.
I saw Irkum with a cheerful face, which boded good news of his
patient, coming out of his house, and missus Amworth, with a gesture
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of salutation to me and a basketin her hand, walking up the broad
strip of grass which bordered the road. There we all three met. I
noticed and saw that Irkum noticed ittoo. The one finger of her left
hand was bandaged. Good morning toyou both, said she and I hear
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your patient is doing well, misterIrkham. I have come to bring him
a bowl of jelly and to sitwith him for an hour. He and
I are great friends. I amoverjoyed at his recovery. Erkam paused a
moment as if making up his mind, and then shot out a pointing finger
at her. I forbid that youshall not sit with him or see him.
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And you know the reason as wellas I do. I have never
seen a horrible change pass over ahuman face as that which now blanched hers
to the color of a gray mist. She put up her hand as if
to shield herself from that pointing finger, which drew the sign of the cross
in the air and shrank back.Carwering onto the road. There was a
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wild hoot from a horn, agrinding of brakes, a shout too late
from a passing car, and onelong scream suddenly cut short. Her body
rebounded from the roadway, after thefirst wheel had gone over it, and
the second followed. It lay therequivering and twitching, and then was still.
(29:10):
She was buried three days afterwards inthe cemetery outside Maxley, in accordance
with the wishes she had told methat she had devised about her interment,
and the shock which sudden and awfuldeath had caused to the little community began
by degrees to pass off to twopeople only, Irkham and myself. The
horror of it was mitigated from thefirst by the nature of the relief that
(29:34):
her death brought, But naturally enoughwe kept our own counsel, and no
hint of what greater horror had beenthus averted was ever let slip. But
oddly enough so it seemed to mehe was still not satisfied about something in
connection with her, and would giveno answer to my questions on the subject.
(29:56):
Then, as the days of tranquil, mellow, set stember, and
the October that followed began to dropaway like the leaves of the yellowing trees,
as uneasiness relaxed. But before theentry of November, the seeming tranquility
broke into a hurricane. I hadbeen dining one night at the far end
(30:17):
of the village at about eleven o'clockwas walking home again. The moon was
of an unusual brilliance, rendering allthat it shone on as distinct as in
some etching. I had just comeopposite the house which missus Amworth had occupied,
where there was a board up tellingthat it was to let when I
heard the click of her front gate, and the next moment I saw,
(30:40):
with sudden chill and quaking of myvery spirit, that she stood there.
Her profile, vividly illuminated, wasturning to me, and I could not
be mistaken in my identification of her. She appeared not to see me.
Indeed, the shadow of the uhedge in front of her garden enveloped me,
and it's black, And she wentswiftly across the road and entered the
(31:03):
gate of the house directly opposite.Now I lost sight of her completely.
My breath was coming in short pants, as if I had been running,
And now indeed I ran with fearfulbackward glances along the hundred yards that separated
me from my house and rkm's.It was to hear that my flying steps
took me, and next minute Iwas within. What have you come to
(31:26):
tell me? He asked? Orshall I guess? You can't guess?
Said I, No, it's noguess. She has come back, and
you have seen her. Tell meabout it. I gave him my story.
That's Major Purcell's house, he said, come back with me there at
once. But what can we do? I've no idea. That's why we've
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got to find out. A minutelater we were opposite the house. When
I had passed it before, itwas all dark. Now lights gleamed from
a couple of windows upstairs. Evenas we faced it, the front door
opened, and the next moment MajorPurcell emerged from the gate. He saw
us and stopped. I'm on myway to doctor Ross, he said quickly.
(32:13):
My wife has been taken suddenly ill. She had been in bed an
hour when I came upstairs, andI found her white as a ghost and
utterly exhausted. She had been tosleep, it seemed. But you will
excuse me one moment, Major,said Erkam. Was there any mark on
her throat? How did you guessthat? Said he. There was one
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of those beastly gnats must have bittenher twice. There she was streaming with
blood. And there's someone with her, asked Irkham. Yes, I roused
her maid. He went off,and Erkam turned to me. I know
now what we have to do,he said. Change your clothes and I'll
join you at your house. Whatis it, I asked, I'll tell
(32:58):
you on our way, But goingto the cemetery, he carried a pick,
a shovel, and a screwdriver whenhe rejoined me, and wore round
his shoulders a long coil of rope. As we walked, he gave me
the outlines of the ghastly hour thatlay before us. What I have to
tell you, he said, willseem to you now too fantastic for credence.
(33:19):
But before dawn we shall see whetherit outstrips reality. By a most
fortunate happening, you saw the specter, the astral body, whatever you choose
to call it, of missus Amworthgoing on about its grizzly business and Therefore,
beyond doubt, the vampire spirit,which abode in her during life,
annamates her gain in death. Thatis not exceptional. Indeed, all these
(33:44):
weeks since her death, I havebeen expecting it. If I am right,
we shall find her body undecayed anduntouched by corruption. She's been dead
nearly two months, said I.If she had been dead two years,
it would still be so if thevaire has possession of her. So remember,
whatever you see done, it willbe done not to her, who,
(34:06):
in the natural course, would nowbe feeding the grasses above her grave,
but to a spirit of untold eviland malignancy, which gives a phantom
life to her body. For whatshall I see done? Said I.
I will tell you. We knowthat now at this moment the vampire,
clad in her mortal semblance, isout dining out. But he must get
(34:30):
back before dawn, and it willpass into the material form that lies in
her grave. We must wait forthat, and then with your help,
I shall digg up her body.If I am right, you will look
upon her as she was in life, with the full vigor of the dreadful
nutriment she has received pulsing in herveins. And then when dawn has come
(34:51):
and the vampire cannot leave the layerof her body, I shall strike her
with this, and he pointed tohis pick through the heart. And she
who comes to life again only withthe animation the fiend gives her, she
and her hellish partner will be dead. Indeed, then we must bury her
again. Delivered at last we hadcome to the cemetery, and in the
(35:15):
brightness of the moonshine, there wasno difficulty in identifying her grave. It
lay some twenty yards from the smallchapel, in the porch of which,
obscured by shadow, we concealed ourselves. From there we had a clear and
open sight of the grave. Andnow we must wait till its infernal visitor
returned home. The night was warmand windless, and yet even if a
(35:39):
freezing wind had been raging, Ithink I should have felt nothing of it,
so intense was my preoccupation as towhat the night and dawn would bring.
There was a bell in the turretof the chapel that struck the quarters
of the hour, and it amazedme to find how swiftly the chimes succeeded
one another. The moon long set, but a twilight of stars shone in
(36:02):
a clear sky. When five o'clockof the morning sounded from the turret.
A few minutes more passed, andthen I fell to Irkum's hands, softly
nudging me, and looking out inthe direction of his pointing finger, I
saw that the form of a woman, tall and large and build was approaching
from the right, noiselessly, witha motion more of gliding and floating than
(36:27):
walking. She moved across the cemeteryto the grave, which was the center
of our observation. She moved roundit, as if to be certain of
its identity, and for a momentstood directly facing us. In the grayness
to which now my eyes had grownaccustomed, I could easily see her face
and recognize its features. She drewher hand across her mouth, as if
(36:52):
wiping it, and broke into achuckle of such laughter as made my hair
stir on my head. Then sheleaped on to the grave, holding her
hands high above her head. Aninch by inch disappeared into the earth.
Erkum's hand was laid on my armand injunction to keep still, But now
(37:14):
he removed it. Come, hesaid, with pick and shovel and rope,
we went to the grave. Theearth was light and sandy, and
soon after six struck. We haddelved down to the coffin lid. With
this pick, he loosened the earthround it and adjusted the rope through the
handles by which it had been lowered. We tried to raise it. This
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was a long and laborious business,and the light had begun to herald day
in the east before we had itout. And lying by the side of
the grave, with this screwdriver,he loosened the fastenings of the lid and
slid it aside. And standing therewe looked on the face of missus Amworth.
The eyes, once closed in death, were open, the cheeks were
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flushed with color. The red,full lipped mouth seemed to smile. One
blow. When it is all over, he said, you need not look.
Even as he spoke, he tookup the pick again, and,
laying the point of it on herleft breast, measured his distance, and
though I knew what was coming,I could not look away. He grasped
(38:21):
the pick in both hands, raisedit an inch or two for the taking
of his arm, and then withfull force, brought it down on her
breast a fountain of blood. Thoughshe had been dead so long, spouted
high in the air, failing witha thud of a heavy splash over the
shroud. And simultaneously from those redlips came one long, appalling cry,
(38:45):
swelling up like some hooting siren,and dying away again with that, instantaneous
as a lightning flash came the touchof corruption on her face. The color
of it faded to ash. Theplump cheeks fell in the mouth dropped.
(39:05):
Thank god, that's over, saidhe, and without pause, slipped the
coffin lid back into its place.Day was coming fast now, and working
like men possessed. We lowered thecoffin into its place again and shoveled the
earth over it. The birds werebusy with their earliest pipings as we went
(39:30):
back to Maxley. Thank you forlistening to the New Ghost Stories podcast.
If you've enjoyed the podcast and wouldlike to support what I do, please
consider leaving a review on any platformand subscribing to hear future releases. You
(39:51):
also become a patron and enjoy somebonus content by signing up at patreon dot
com slash New ghost Stories. Thispodcas cast is written, presented, and
produced by David pol Nixon. Ifyou'd like to find out more about New
ghost Stories, visit my website newghostStories dot substack dot com, and to
get all the latest from me,follow me on Twitter, Instagram and mastered
(40:14):
on at New ghost Stories. Nexttime on the New ghost Stories podcast,
Season four begins on a dangerous stretchof road,
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