From Mrs Gordon Jones:
February 22nd, 1892
I have the strongest aversion to cats - a tendancy which i have inherited from my father, who could not endure a cat's presence. After my marriage, i would never have one in the house, until obliged to do so on account of mice. The one that i then allowed to come was an ordinary grey and black striped one - but i very seldom looked at it, and it was never allowed to come upstairs.
One day i was told that the cat was mad and asked if it might be drowned. I did not look at the animal myself, but said, 'yes.' I next heard that it had been drowned by the groom in a copper [Presumably a bath]. As the cat was not a pet and had never been my companion, its death made no impression on me. it was drowned in the morning. The same evening i was sitting alone in the dining-room. I am sure that i was not thinking of the cat or of possible apparitions. I was reading; presently i felt impelled to look up, the door seemed to open, and there stood the animal that had been drowned in the morning; the same cat, but apparently much thinner and dripping with water - only the expression of the face was changed - the eyes were quite human and haunted me afterwards, they looked so sad and pathetic. I felt so sure of what i saw that at the moment i never doubted that it was the living cat who had escaped from drowning. I rang the bell and when the servant came i said, 'There's the cat, take it out'; it seemed to me that she could not but see it too - it was clear and distinct to my eyes as the tables or chairs. But the servant looked frightened and said, 'Oh ma'am, i saw the cat after William had drowned it - and then he buried it in the garden.' 'But', I said, 'there it is.' Of course she saw nothing and then the cat began to fade, and i saw nothing more of it.
Extracted From Sir Ernest Bennett's Apparitions & Haunted Houses (London: Faber & Faber, 1939), pp. 349-50.