A Story of St. James’s Square

A Story of St. James’s Square By Jessie Middleton © 2008 by http://www.HorrorMasters.com

The following story was related to me by Mrs. Charles Mossop, of Peterborough Road, Harrow-on-the-Hill, who has kindly given me permission to use her name and address and vouches for its authenticity. The events related in it happened to a friend of hers, an officer of high rank in the Army, and whose name is well known to me and to the public in general. Here is the story: A young cadet of nineteen, having completed his course at the Royal Military Academy and been appointed to the Royal Engineers, was spending a few days in London before joining. One night he made up his mind to go to some place of amusement, and putting on his dress-clothes, called a hansom—it was before the days of taxis—and drove to a music-hall in the West End. During the evening an elderly gentleman, of extremely aristocratic appearance, entered into con versation with him and took considerable interest in his account of himself and his hopes and ambitions. The boy frankly told the stranger that he wanted “to see a little life” before he went abroad, and the latter offered to be his cicerone for the night and introduce him to places to which he could-not otherwise hope to be admitted. Delighted at the prospect, and fascinated by the older man’s charm and conversation, the boy gratefully accepted the invitation; and they left the Empire together and went off to supper at one of the best restaurants. After supper—at which the boy drank only lemon squash—they went to several gambling-dens and night clubs, at some of which it was necessary to give a password, and everywhere the man was received and treated with the utmost deference. They did not actually join in any of the doings at the places they visited, but, both being particularly refined and fastidious, preferred to play the part of lookers on. Towards three o’clock in the morning the man asked the boy where he was staying and hearing that it was in a direction that would not take him out of his way, suggested that they should walk together to St. James’s Square, where time speaker lived. It was a very fine night in summer, and the cool air, after the hot, vitiated atmosphere of the night clubs, was deliciously fresh. The two walked together in the direction of St. James’s Square, and as they passed St. James’s Church, Piccadilly, the clocks struck three, and the elder man stopped to wind up his watch. They walked down a side street into St. James’s Squares and at the door of one of the large houses in the square the stranger took out his latch-key and said good night, adding that he hoped the boy had had a pleasant evening. With profuse thanks for his kindness, the boy asked permission to call with his father next day, saying he was sure his father would like to thank him in person. Permission was given and cards exchanged. The man then entered the house and the boy went home. Next day he told his father what had happened, and they arranged to call at the house in St. James’s Square that afternoon. When they did so the door was opened by a butler, who seemed much distressed and surprised when they asked to see Mr. —. After some conversation the butler told them

that his master had died at three-fifteen that morning, that he had been bedridden for four months previously, and unconscious for twelve hours before his death. The boy, being unable to believe the story, asked the butler to show him a photograph of his master, which he did, and the boy instantly recognised it. The owner of the house had been a man well known in society, and his funeral a few days later was attended by a large number of members of the fashionable world.