The Horror at Red Hook

I

Not many weeks ago, on a street corner in the village of Pascoag,
Rhode Island, a tall heavily built, and wholesome looking pedestrian
furnished much speculation by a singular lapse of behavior.  He had,
it appears, been descending the hill by the road from Chepachet; and
encountering the compact section, had turned to his left into the
main thoroughfare where several modest business blocks convey a touch
of the urban.  At this point, without visible provocation, he
committed his astonishing lapse; staring queerly for a second at the
tallest of the buildings, before him, and then, with a series of
terrified, hysterical shrieks, breaking into a frantic run which
ended in a stumble and fall at the next crossing.  Picked up and
dusted off by ready hands, he was found to be conscious, organically
unhurt, and evidently cured of his sudden nervous attack.  He
muttered some shamefaced explanations involving a strain he had
undergone, and with downcast glance turned back, up the Chepachet
road, trudging out of sight, without once looking behind him.  It was
a strange incident to befall so large, robust, normal-featured, and
capable-looking a man, and the strangeness was not lessened by the