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Eighteen stories with almost every variety of horror and some passages of great beauty make up a fine shivering collection for the most jaded palate. John Hampden justifies his choice by stating that if they bring the reader no final conviction that the macrocosmos is full of ghosts they show at least the truth of the psychiatrist's warning that no chamber is so strangely and perpetually haunted as the human mind. From Scott, who had a way with the supernatural, to the moon magic of De La Mare, here are the masters of the mystery hour, glorious nocturnal company for any reader. Take a random sample of blood-chilling syrup: 'As he broke through the door he heard it cry: "Crusader! Crusader!" The church was in utter darkness, there was no light in the chancel, he had to fumble in his pockets for his electric torch. The screams had stopped and the whole place was silent. He flashed his torch right and left, and saw a figure lying huddled against the altar. He knew that it was Jane.... Her eyes were open, looking at him, but they did not know him, and she did not seem to understand him when he spoke. In a strange rough accent of broad Somerset that he could scarcely distinguish, she said: "It was my body on the altar." Gently used, beginnings of foxing Soft cover
Condition: 2