The Legion of Evil by Warden Ledge

This story was first published in 1933, then remained out of print for forty-three years until its appearance in Hugh Lamb’s Return From the Grave.  And that’s a real shame. Lamb doesn’t mention where he found this story but a little web-surfing got a result at the wonderfully retro Gruesome Cargoes, where it’s revealed that this one first appeared in Don’t Turn On The Light, the ninth volume in Christine Campbell Thompson’s famous Not At Night series. Furthermore, the administrator of Gruesome Cargoes (and the even more astonishing Vault of Evil) has listed this story as one of his ten favourites from the Not At Night series. 

Christine Campbell Thomson
Editor of the famous 
Not At Night series
of horror anthologies.

The story is slight, but boy is it written with energy! Old Madge is suspected of witchcraft and evicted from her hovel in the woods, but soon after this, Jack Bairdsley and his brother Paul are walking through the frost-white woods to establish a right of way, when:

‘Down the centre of the ride, a small white object was rapidly approaching. About twenty to thirty yards ahead of the two men was the junction of the foot-path that led to the old woman’s abode – an evil tumble-down cottage. At this junction, the creature, for such it was, stopped.

‘It was a stoat in its winter disguise – a veritable ermine.’

Before long old Madge is wreaking bloody havok as a pack of stoats attack the stables then the farm.

‘Within, the scene was appalling. Three horses were down and still; from the remaining two, whose necks were covered in living fur, came feeble squeals and kicks as they, too, lay in their stalls.’
If you’ve had enough of bluff heroic types battling to overcome evil, you’ll love the end of this one.

Regretfully, this is the only story I can find from this author.

My thanks as always go to the energy and enthusiasm - and horrific taste - of the administrator of Vault of Evil and Gruesome Cargoes for his research and apparently tireless posting.

          

Death in the Well by Frederick Cowles

Something horrible follows Professor Rutter home one night, but fortunately student John Evans is there to save him from harm.  Rutter, known for his peculiar interests in obscure and arcane subjects, tells Evans that the thing was an elemental being, and promptly offers the student a job as his assistant. 

Frederick Cowles

Rutter believes he has located the infamous ‘Pearl of Zello’, a fabulous jewel said to reward its keeper with unearthly – possibly Satanic - power.  The Pearl’s last known owner was a twelfth century monk, who was beheaded because suspected of trafficking with the Devil. Since then the ghost of a headless monk has haunted the grounds of a Tyrolean castle in the area of a well where Professor Rutter now believes the unholy jewel is hidden.

Of the many horror novels and short stories that I’ve read over the years, I think this is the first to feature the ghost of a headless monk! More an object of amusement than horror now, a comedy cliché, finding a Headless Monk feels a bit like setting out in pursuit of the Abominable Snowman, then realising you’ve netted a pantomime horse.

It should be added here that at his best Frederick Cowles could write a brilliant story; for instance the very memorable Punch and Judy which appeared in another of Hugh Lamb's anthologies, The Star Book of Horror vol. 1.

As it is, Death in the Well is enjoyable enough, with more than one horror awaiting the Professor and his assistant at the bottom of the well. 

File under entertaining hokum. 

There is a very informative page about Frederick Cowles by the late - and legendary - Rbadac, here: Rbadac on Frederick Cowles at the Weird Review

'Blue Eyes' by Maurice Level

Despite the coldness of the day and against the advice of the house-surgeon, ‘Blue Eyes’ vacates the hospital bed where she has been recovering to put flowers on the grave of her lover on All Saints Day. It is almost a year since he died, and in answer to the house-surgeon’s question she explains that her lover was executed for murder. If she doesn’t put flowers on his grave, no one else will.

As she nears the cemetery she passes the flower-sellers, but she has no money and her heart almost breaks as she thinks of the bare mound of his grave. But there is always a way for a girl to make money on these streets.

Elegantly and sparely written, the narrative avoids obvious traps like a careful walker avoiding puddles, to conclude on a note of ghastly irony. Hugh Lamb describes this as ‘one of the finest examples ever of the French speciality, the conte cruel.’

From Maurice Level's collection Crises (1920); reprinted in Hugh Lamb's Return From The Dead (1976)