One afternoon 50-year-old Alfred Brissenden, a night watchman, was taking a dish of tea with his wife in their cottage on Green Street, Royston, Hertfordshire. Beside them sat Ben, 6, their black-&-white, smooth-haired fox terrier. Just as Mrs. Brissenden passed Mr. Brissenden the biscuits, a voice said: "I want one."

Said Alfred later: "There was a bit of silence. I looked at my wife and she looked very hard at me. 'Did you speak?' she asked me. 'Take it easy, dear,' I said, 'but I think it was Ben. ' "

After that Ben...

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