{| style="float:right;"

| style="text-align:center;" |"....warning, warning, warning" came the ghostly echo. |- |

Black and white illustration. In the foreground: the face of a scared looking man with a hid hand at his mouth. In the background: A flight of steps up to a room, where a woman sits at a piano with her back to the viewer.

|- | style="text-align:center;" | Heading by Vincent Napoli |}

Of all the shocking and macabre experiences of my life, the one that I shall longest remember occurred a few years ago in Paris.

Like hundreds of other young Americans, I was then an art student in the French metropolis. Having been there several years, I had acquired a fair speaking knowledge of the language, as well as an acquaintance with many odd nooks and corners of the city, which I used to visit for my own amusement. I did not foresee that one of my strolls of discovery through the winding ancient streets was to involve me in a dread adventure.

One rather hot and sultry August evening, just as twilight was softening the hard stone outlines of the buildings, I was making a random pilgrimage through an old part of the city. I did not know just where I was; but suddenly I found myself in a district I did not remember ever having seen before. Emerging from the defile of a crazy twisted alley, I found myself in a large stone court opposite a grim but imposing edifice.

Four or five stories high, it looked like the typical medieval fortress. Each of its