her account of this type of haunting narrated to me some
summers ago by a Mr. Warren, who at the time he saw the phenomenon was
staying in the Hebrides, which part of the British Isles is probably
richer than any other in spooks of all sorts.

"I was about fifteen years of age at the time," Mr. Warren said, "and
had for several years been residing with my grandfather, who was an
elder in the Kirk of Scotland. He was much interested in geology, and
literally filled the house with fossils from the pits and caves round
where we dwelt. One morning he came home in a great state of excitement,
and made me go with him to look at some ancient remains he had found at
the bottom of a dried-up tarn. 'Look!' he cried, bending down and
pointing at them, 'here is a human skeleton with a wolf's head. What do
you make of it?' I told him I did not know, but supposed it must be some
kind of monstrosity. 'It's a werwolf!' he rejoined, 'that's what it is.
A werwolf! This island was once overrun with satyrs and werwolves! Help
me carry it to the house.' I did as he bid me, and we placed it on the
table in the back kitchen. That evening I was left alone in the house,
my grandfather and the other members of the household having gone to the
kirk. For some time I amused myself reading, and then, fancying I heard
a noise in the back premises, I went into the kitchen. There was no one
about, and becoming convinced that it could only have been a rat that
had disturbed me, I sat on the table alongside the alleged remains of
the werwolf, and waited to see if the noises would recommence. I was
thus waiting in a listless sort of way, my back bent, my elbows on my
knees, looking at the floor and thinking of nothing in particular, when
there came a loud rat, tat, tat of knuckles on the window-pane. I
immediately turned in the direction of the noise and encountered, to my
alarm, a dark face looking in at me. At first dim and indistinct, it
became more and more complete, until it developed into a very perfectly
defined head of a wolf terminating in the neck of a human being. Though
greatly shocked, my first act was to look in every direction for a
possible reflection--but in vain. There was no light either without or
within, other than that from the setting sun--nothing that could in any
way have produced an illusion. I looked at the face and marked each
feature intently. It was unmistakably a wolf's face, the jaws slightly
distended; the lips wreathed in