from the visit to the door and window, to
the spitting on his palms; and with a grin--the nearest counterpart that
I could get, after prodigious efforts, to the one that so fascinated
me--I approached his recumbent figure, and, bending over it, removed his
neckerchief. I sat and admired the gently throbbing whiteness of his
throat for some seconds, and then, with a volley of execrations at the
cat, commenced my novel and by no means uninteresting work. I am afraid
I bungled it sadly, for I was disturbed when in the midst of it, by the
sound of scratching, the violent and frantic scratching, of some animal
on the upper panels of the door. The sound flustered me, and, my hand
shaking in consequence, I did not make such a neat job of it as I should
have liked. However, I did my best, and at all events I killed him; and
I enjoyed the supreme satisfaction of knowing that I had killed
him--killed the cat. But my joy was of short duration, and I now
bitterly regret my rash deed. Wherever I go in the daytime, the shadowy
figure of the cat accompanies me, and at night, crouching on my
bedclothes, it watches--watches me with the expression in its eyes and
mouth of my would-be murderer on that memorable night."

As he concluded, for an instant, only for an instant, the shadow by his
side grew clearer, and I saw the cat, saw it watching him with murder,
ghastly murder lurking in its eyes. I struck a match, and, as I had
anticipated, the phenomenon vanished.

"It will return," the Australian said gloomily; "it always does. I shall
never get rid of it!" And as I fully concurred with this statement, and
had no suggestions to offer, I thanked him for his story, and wished him
good night. But I did not leave him alone. He still had his cat. I saw
it return to him as I passed through the doorway. Of course, I had no
means of verifying his story; it might have been true, or it might not.
But there was the cat!--thoroughly objective and as perfect a specimen
of a feline, occult bestiality as I have ever seen or wish to see again.

That a spirit should appear in the form of a pig need not seem
remarkable when we remember that those who live foul lives, _i.e._ the
sensual and greedy, must, after death, assume the shape that is most
appropriate to them; indeed, in these circumstances, one might rather be
surprised that a phantasm in the shape of a hog is not a more frequent
occurrence.

There are numerous instances of hauntings by phenome