DICK TURPIN’S GHOST

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22513, 22 September 1938, Page 6 (Supplement)

DICK TURPIN’S GHOST

(By Alan De Malmanche)

It was the middle of winter and several friends who were travelling with, me through Yorkshire, decided to stay at an old inn. They persuaded me to stay with them for a few days at f the Brown Owl inn, as it was called. It was on the first night that we stayed at the inn that this amazing incident happened.

There were about 10 of us sitting in the parlour drinking and smoking, when Rogers, one of my friends, told us this story— .

“One night a long time ago, Dick Turpin stayed at this inn. when he died his ghost returned here as he said it would when he died.” We all shivered and Michael Cook, another of' my friends, laughed, “I don’t believe in the supernatural. This is the twentieth century. No ghost could frighten me. I’ll wager a pound against anybody.” Rogers whispered in my ear to accept the bet, so laughingly I took up the challenge. Half of the company went to bed, including Rogers and several others. Left in the parlour, were Cook,- myself, and others. Suddenly, as the clock struck 11. the landlord rushed in, white-faced. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it,” he cried.

“What? Where?” Cook asked. “I saw Dick Turpin’s ghost, down in the bar. It was horrible. He stood smiling at me. I put out .my hand, but it went right through him ... I think.” ‘ Rot! Rot!” said Cook, though I could see he was shaking. I swallowed a glass of beer in one gulp, in my excitement, and coughed and gasped for breath. “It’s just because we’ve been talking about his ghost, that you think that you saw it.” I said. “Let’s go to bed. You can sleep with Cook,” one of the men said to me. So we went up to bed in a group. It was long after midnight, and I could not get any sleep, thinking of the' ghost. I heard the clock in the parlour strike 2 o’clock, and as it stopped, I heard a sound that set my hair on end. I heard Cook snoring away on the other bed. My gaze went from him to the doorhandle, which was slowly moving. I gave a wild yell, which woke Cook. He gave a yell, and we both jumped out of bed. We pulled the door open and looked outside, and saw nothing, I saw something moving in the shadows and sprang. I grabbed it. It moved. It breathed. It hit Cas 1 soon found out). We struggled on the edge of the staircase. I managed to get the “ghost” by the throat, when suddenly the banister against which we were fighting, broke, and with a crash we went over the edge, and with another jarring crash of splintering wood we hit the top landing—luckily I was on top. Suddenly, a piece of wood struck my forehead, and I lost consciousness. When I came to* blood was dripping from my forehead where I had been hit,- There was no sign of the "ghost.” Everybody was rushing about when I reached my bedroom. There was Cook in a delirium, shrieking and praying that the spirit would not come near him. Later came the sequel. A week passed before I learnt the answer. Rogers confessed to me that he had dressed up as Dick Turpin. By the way. Cook gave me the pound from the wager. Anyway it taught them both a lesson. Th# fight and the fright.