ry and a
half there has been a strange fatality about any Cressley occupying the
Hall. This fatality was first exhibited in 1700, when Barrington
Cressley, one of the most abandoned libertines of that time, led his
infamous orgies there--of these even history takes note. There are
endless legends as to their nature, one of which is that he had personal
dealings with the devil in the large turret room, the principal bedroom
at the Hall, and was found dead there on the following morning.
Certainly since that date a curious doom has hung over the family, and
this doom shows itself in a strange way, only attacking those victims
who are so unfortunate as to sleep in the turret room. Gilbert Cressley,
the young Court favourite of George the Third, was found mysteriously
murdered there, and my own great-grandfather paid the penalty by losing
his reason within those gloomy walls."

"If the room has such an evil reputation, I wonder that it is occupied,"
I replied.

"It happens to be far and away the best bedroom in the house, and people
always laugh at that sort of thing until they are brought face to face
with it. The owner of the property is not only born there, as a rule,
but also breathes his last in the old four-poster, the most
extraordinary, wonderful old bedstead you ever laid eyes on. Of course I
do not believe in any malevolent influences from the unseen world, but
the record of disastrous coincidences in that one room is, to say the
least of it, curious. Not that this sort of thing will deter me from
going into possession, and I intend to put a lot of money into Cressley
Hall."

"Has no one been occupying it lately?" I asked.

"Not recently. An old housekeeper has had charge of the place for the
last few years. The agent had orders to sell the Hall long ago, but
though it has been in the market for a long time I do not believe there
was a single offer. Just before I left Australia I wired to Murdock, my
agent, that I intended taking over the place, and authorised its
withdrawal from the market."

"Have you no relations?" I inquired.

"None at all. Since I have been away my only brother died. It is curious
to call it going home when one has no relatives and only friends who
have probably forgotten one."

I could not help feeling sorry for Cressley as he described the lonely
outlook. Of course, with heaps of money and an old family place he would
soon make new friends; but he looked the sort of chap who might