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The version I've found in a cheap Scottish Ghosts book I've got doesn't have a source for the story but claims it happened at the turn of the century.
It was at number 17, though the street name isn't given it's place it in a row of terraced house close to the Botanical gardens, now demolished.
Same stpry, horrible thing frightens servant girl. Rumour spreads, no sailors in this version but a student of Edinburgh University, Andrew Muir, elects to spend the night there with a spiritual interest in what's occurring. They give a bell, go to bed, wake up hearing the bell. Andrew Muir dead with look of horror.
Don't know if that helps you at all.
It also gets a mention near the bottom of this page. It's University student Andrew Muir again but tis time it's the turn of the 20th century.
Perhaps you've encountered this version before. If so apologies.
mooks out
It was at number 17, though the street name isn't given it's place it in a row of terraced house close to the Botanical gardens, now demolished.
Same stpry, horrible thing frightens servant girl. Rumour spreads, no sailors in this version but a student of Edinburgh University, Andrew Muir, elects to spend the night there with a spiritual interest in what's occurring. They give a bell, go to bed, wake up hearing the bell. Andrew Muir dead with look of horror.
Don't know if that helps you at all.
It also gets a mention near the bottom of this page. It's University student Andrew Muir again but tis time it's the turn of the 20th century.
In the area of the Botanic Gardens over a hundred years ago, a strange and solitary man lived at No.17 in a well-respected street. His only caller was a charwoman who would twice weekly come to his home to bring him his provisions. After his death, the charwoman locked the house tight and it lay empty for years, until stories began to circulate of late night parties on the upper floors, overheard by the residents of numbers 16 and 18. But no one was ever seen to enter or leave the house. The talk abated after a while, until it was mostly forgotten. Then, in the early throes of World War I, the house was completely gutted and converted into a guesthouse for an English couple, who then moved in to run the house.
The first signs that something was not right came when two different chambermaids claimed to hear voices from an attic bedroom, but upon entering, found the room empty. The room was generally not used, because of these unnatural occurrences, until the guesthouse came to be overbooked and a young married couple were given the keys for the attic room. On approaching the door, they heard voices and assumed they had been given the wrong room number, so rang the bell for service. An old woman by the name of Mary Brewster responded and entered the room to prove there was nobody in there at all. But as soon as she entered she let out a shattering scream, and it was the last sound she ever made. She was found rigidly clinging to the bedpost, staring straight at the ceiling in terror, and although she lived on, she never spoke another word.
News of this reached some local students and one, Andrew Muir, finding his curiosity overpowered his fears, determined to sit alone in the room one night, with two bells, one small and one large. The small bell was to signal anything unusual happening, while the large bell was to be a call for aid to the owner, who was sitting in the downstairs room. At 10:00 pm Muir entered the room. After only ten minutes, the small bell was rung vigorously, immediately followed by the panicked clanging of the larger bell. The owner flew up the stairs and flung open the door to find Muir literally frightened to death in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.
The owners decided to retire and the house was boarded up again for the rest of its days, before the entire street was eventually demolished, taking with it whatever terror had shown itself to Mary and Andrew.
Perhaps you've encountered this version before. If so apologies.
mooks out