Chapter IChapter IIChapter IIIChapter IVChapter VThe Perfume of EgyptAnd Other Weird Storiesby C. W. LeadbeaterFOREWORDThe stories told in this book happen to be true. Of course I do not for amoment expect the ordinary reader to believe that, and I shall be perfectlysatisfied if I succeed in whiling away for him the tedium of a railway journey, or if I can add for him a touch of pleasure to a comfortable eveningbefore the fire or a lazy afternoon on the river.
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For the few whose interest in these subjects is not merely superficial, I mayadd that some of the events related are personal experiences of my own,and that the others are reproduced exactly as they were told to me bypersons in whose veracity I have every confidence. In every case, exceptthose of "Jagannath" and "The Baron's Room", I myself have heard thestory directly from the person principally concerned in it. So that there is noplace here for the subtle alterations which are inevitably introduced intotales that have passed through many hands. These things happened; andalthough it may be difficult for one who has made no study of the subject tobelieve them, those who are familiar with the literature of the occult willreadily be able to parallel most of these occurrences.I have written other and more serious books in which such things as theseare scientifically explained; in this volume my only desire is to help myreaders to pass pleasantly a few hours of leisure time.C. W. LEADBEATERThe Perfume of EgyptThe Forsaken TempleThe Major's PromiseA Test of CourageAn Astral MurderA Triple WarningThe Concealed ConfessionJagannath: A Tale of Hidden IndiaThe Baron's Room
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Saved by a GhostTHE PERFUME OF EGYPTIt is a curious life, that of a man in chambers, though very pleasant in manyways. Its great charm is its absolute liberty -- the entire freedom to go outand come in, or not to go out and come in, exactly as one pleases. But it isterribly lonely. Probably most people remember Dickens's ghastly tale(founded, I believe, on fact) of a man who was struck by apoplexy when onthe point of opening his door, and lay propped up against it for a wholeyear, until at the expiration of that time it was broken open, and hisskeleton fell into the arms of the locksmith. I do not think I am a nervousman, but I confess that during my residence in chambers that story hauntedme at times; and indeed, quite apart from such unusual horrors, there is awide field of uncomfortable possibility in being left so entirely to oneself.All the most unpleasant things that happen to people, both in fiction andreal life, seem to occur when they are alone; and though no doubt thetalented American author is right when he "thanks a merciful heaven thatthe unendurable extreme of agony happens always to man the unit, andnever to man the mass," one feels that it is probably easier to re-echo hissentiment heartily when one is not the unit in question. On the other hand,when a man in chambers locks his door on a winter night and settles downcosily by the fire for an evening's reading, he has a sense of seclusion andimmunity from interruption only to be equalled by that of a man who hassported his oak in a top set in college.Just so had I *settled down -- not to reading, however, but to writing -- onthe evening on which occurred the first of the chain of events that I amabout to relate. In fact, I was writing a book -- my first book --
On thePresent State of the Law on Conveyancing
. I had published several essayson various aspects of the subject, and these had been so well received byhigh legal authorities, that I was emboldened to present my views in a moreambitious form. It was to this work, then, that I was applying myself withall a young author's zeal on the evening in question; and my reason formentioning this fact is to show the subject on which my thoughts were
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