“I always keep away on the night of the 21st September,” said the watchman.

“And what kind of ghost is it?” asked Mr. Hunter.

“It is a European lady dressed in white,” said the man.  “What does she do?” asked Mr. Hunter.

“Oh! she comes out of the room and calls you and asks you to follow her,” said the man.

“Has anybody ever followed her?”

“Nobody that I know of, Sir,” said the man.  “The man who was here before me saw her and died from fear.”

“Most wonderful!  But why do not people follow her in a body?” asked Mr. Hunter.

“It is very easy to say that, Sir, but when you see her you will not like to follow her yourself.  I have been in this house for over 20 years, lots of times European soldiers have passed the night of the 21st September, intending to follow her but when she actually comes nobody has ever ventured.”

“Most wonderful!  I shall follow her this time,” said Mr. Hunter.

“As you please Sir,” said the man and retired.

It was one of the duties of Mr. Hunter to distribute the pensions of all retired Government servants.

In this connection Mr. Hunter used to come in contact with a number of very old men in the station who attended his office to receive their pensions from him.

By questioning them Mr. Hunter got so far that the house had at one time been occupied by a European officer.

This officer had a young wife who fell in love with a certain Captain Leslie.  One night when the husband was out on tour (and not expected to return within a week) his wife was entertaining Captain Leslie.  The gentleman returned unexpectedly and found his wife in the arms of the Captain.

He lost his self-control and attacked the couple with a meat chopper—­the first weapon that came handy.

Captain Leslie moved away and then cleared out leaving the unfortunate wife at the mercy of the infuriated husband.  He aimed a blow at her head which she warded off with her hand.  But so severe was the blow that the hand was cut off and the woman fell down on the ground quite unconscious.  The sight of blood made the husband mad.  Subsequently the servants came up and called a doctor, but by the time the doctor arrived the woman was dead.

The unfortunate husband who had become raving mad was sent to a lunatic asylum and thence taken away to England.  The body of the woman was in the local cemetery; but what had become of the severed hand was not known.  The missing limb had never been found.  All this was 50 years ago, that is, immediately after the Indian Mutiny.

This was what Mr. Hunter gathered.

The 21st September was not very far off.  Mr. Hunter decided to meet the ghost.

The night in question arrived, and Mr. Hunter sat in his bed-room with his magazine.  The lamp was burning brightly.

The servants had all retired, and Mr. Hunter knew that if he called for help nobody would hear him, and even if anybody did hear, he too would not come.