Free Night Stalks The Mansion: A True Story Of One Family's Ghostly Adventure by Constance Westbie, Harold Cameron Page B

ghosts," Mary, a bookkeeper, confided. "But it all sounds so interesting that I'd
love to come down. Do you think your wife would mind?
I'd even do the dishes!" This seemed like such a concession on her part that I wondered if she ever did them in her own
home. I avoided extending invitations until the staff ganged
up on me.

    "What's the matter, Mr. Cameron?" Ida asked. "Haven't
you been leveling with us? Don't you want other witnesses?"
    I had reached the point where I didn't mind other witnesses but I remembered Ernestine's reaction and I didn't
want any more hysterical females on my hands. I finally
agreed that a few could come out on weekends if they would
come two at a time and share the same bedroom. What followed was the usual pattern. Sometimes sober-faced girls
admitted that footsteps in a dark room weren't as entertaining as they had anticipated. At other times our unseen
habitants simply ignored the whole situation. However, we
always refused to let our guests into the library.
    One day when we were once again without household
help, I told Dorothy that a couple of the women would be
arriving early Saturday afternoon.
    She sighed. "They are very nice and even help a little
with the work," she admitted. "But if you charged admission, it might also help with the food bills."
    "I don't think I can do that," I replied. "When you
charge admission to a show, you have to guarantee a
performance."
    She laughed a little. "I know that. I really should be
grateful when the stage is dark-grateful for small favors."
Suddenly she became very serious. "Harold, I really don't
like referring to these phenomena as a show. I'm not too easy
in my mind when you do it. Whatever takes place around
here isn't funny - not to our unseen entities, anyway. I have
the feeling there is a tragic cloud hanging over the premises.
I don't think we should laugh or make light of it. Something must have happened long ago that left a very vivid
psychic impression here-maybe something pretty terrible.
Maybe, too, someone is really earthbound and in misery. We wouldn't have this same attitude if some of our visible
friends happened to be in trouble."

    I looked at her in surprise. "I didn't know you felt that
way, too," I said. "It also occurs to me that we have changed
a great deal since we moved into the mansion. Such a thing
would never have entered our minds before we started reading up on psychic phenomena. From now on I'll discourage
any visits from thrill seekers."
    "Our lady has become very real to me," Dorothy once
confessed. "I'm getting used to having her around. Besides,
she's less trouble than some people I know."
    I agreed wholeheartedly. I had been experiencing unforeseen difficulties for a month or so. Not only was I having
trouble with unseen spirits at home, I had my hands full
with very real entities at the office. Along with the day-today difficulties of conducting any kind of business, I had to
deal with "the way things are done in Philadelphia." One
incident involved a monthly payment to be made to a "highway superintendent" to insure space for a loading zone for
our trucks.
    The other incident was an even more serious - and frightening-attempt at extortion. A disgruntled customer wanted
to return some merchandise and get a refund. The merchandise was not damaged - he was simply tired of it - "and
needed the money." We refused to return his money. He
left the office, muttering and glaring. Shortly after, a letter
arrived at my office.
    Mr. Cameron:
    We've investigated you and know that you can pay. We
want $15,780 in unmarked bills-and we want it soon
so get it together and we'll contact you again. If you go
to the police we are going to blow up your whole office
with everybody in it - and take care of your family too.

    I disregarded his warning. This, after all, was a clear
and present danger, not ghostly footfalls on the path or in
the library. The police seemed bored and unwilling