I found myself in conversation the other day with Mr. Alastair Whybrow, who remarked that my recent report from South End - in particular, St. Hilda's church - made no mention of the crypt ghost.
"Crypt? Ghost?" I replied, monosylabically. "I do so love church crypts, though my encounters with the spirit world have not always been happy ones. However, I did not see a crypt entrance." Mr. Whybrow explained that the entrance was on the opposite side of the church from the main doors, and that there was, indeed, a resident ghost, though he refused to speculate as to who she was or why she spends her afterlife beneath the charming sanctuary.
I made a note to visit as soon as possible. When the day came, I made certain to fully load and then strap on Miss Malaprop's Clock-Winding Pistol; I had my doubts about the weapon's effectiveness on a shroud, but thought it better than arriving unarmed. At the very least, the pistol would be effective against any hooligans who might have taken up residence in the crypt.
My vigil was rewarded when the ghost appeared. She wandered about the crypt. I drew my weapon and aimed, but she had no hostile intent. Indeed, she seemed entirely indifferent to my presence.