I turned the handle gently and opened my bedroom door. There was nothing to see in the corridor. But across the corridor, a door was open and I could see George’s head peeping out from behind it.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ I replied.
‘Were you walking in the corridor just now?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I answered. ‘I thought it was you.’
‘Then who was it?’ he said. ‘I am sure I heard someone.’
We were silent for a moment; then he spoke again. ‘Come over here for a minute, I want to speak to you.’ I walked across the corridor and into the little study that joined his bedroom.
Inside George’s study, George poked the fire. ‘Do you think something strange is happening here in this house?’ he asked.
I said nothing.
George continued. ‘Every night, I hear footsteps out on the stairs…You have heard them, haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have.’
George’s voice shook when he spoke. ‘A couple of nights ago, I saw a horrible face staring at me from between those curtains behind you. It was gone in a second, but I definitely saw it.’
‘Did you look in your bedroom or in the corridor?’
`Yes – right away,’ he replied. ‘There was nothing there, but twice later I heard footsteps…’ He suddenly stopped talking and sat up straight in his chair, staring straight over my shoulder. His face was bloodless.
‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘What’s the matter?’ I turned around in my chair to look at the curtains just as they dropped back into place.
‘I saw it again – the same face – staring at me from between the curtains!’ George stammered.
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