The next evening the two gentlemen had dinner together in the doctor's dining−room. When Mrs
Parker had left them with their coffee and cigarettes, Teesdale spoke to the chaplain. `My dear
Dawkins,' he said, `You will think this is very strange. But last night and the night before, I spoke on the
telephone with the spirit of Charles Linkworth.'
`The man they hanged two days ago?' said Dawkins. `Really, Teesdale, if you've brought me here
to tell ghost stories . . .'
`He asked me to bring you here, Dawkins. He wants to tell you something. I think you can guess
what it is.'
`I don't want to know,' said the chaplain angrily. `Dead men do not return. They have finished with
this world; they don't come back.'
`But listen,' said Teesdale. `Two nights ago my telephone rang, but very softly, and I could only
hear whispers. I asked the operator where the call came from. It came from the prison. I telephoned the
prison, and Prison Officer Draycott told me that nobody had telephoned from there. But he was
conscious of a presence in the room.'
`That man drinks too much whisky,' said the chaplain sharply.
`He's a good officer,' said Teesdale, `and very sensible. And anyway, I do not drink whisky!'
Suddenly the telephone in the study rang. The doctor heard it clearly. `There!' he said. `Can't you
Ghost Stories
5 21
hear it?'
`I can't hear anything,' said the chaplain angrily.
The doctor got up and went to the telephone. `Yes?' he said in a trembling voice. `Who is it? Yes,
Mr Dawkins is here. I'll try to get him to speak to you.'
He went back into the dining−room. `Dawkins,' he said, `Please listen to him. I beg you to listen to
him.'
The chaplain hesitated a moment. `Very well,' he said at last. He went to the telephone and held the
receiver to his ear.
`I can't hear anything,' he said. `Ah − I heard something there. A very soft whisper.'
`Try to hear!' begged the doctor.
Again the chaplain listened. Suddenly he put the receiver down. He frowned. `Something −
somebody said, "I killed her. I confess. I want to be forgiven." It's a joke, my dear Teesdale. Somebody
is playing a sick, horrible joke on you. I can't believe it.'
Doctor Teesdale picked up the receiver. `Teesdale here,' he said. `Can you give Mr Dawkins a sign
that you are there?' He put the receiver down again. `He says he thinks he can,' he said. `We must wait.'
It was a warm evening and the window was open. For five minutes the two men sat and waited, but
nothing happened. Then the chaplain spoke. `There!' he said, `Nothing at all! I think that proves I'm
right.'
As he spoke an icy wind suddenly blew into the room. It moved the papers on the doctor's desk.
Teesdale went to the window and closed it.
`Did you feel that?' he asked.
`Yes,' said the chaplain. `A breath of cold air from the window.'
Once again the cold wind blew in the closed room. `And did you feel that?' asked the doctor gently.
The chaplain's hands trembled. `Dear God,' he prayed, `keep us safe this night.'
`Something is coming!' said the doctor. And it came. In the centre of the room stood the figure of a
man. His head was bent over onto his shoulder, and they could not see his face. Then he took his head in
both hands and raised it slowly and heavily. The dead face looked at them. The mouth was open; the
dead eyes stared. There was a red line around the neck. Then there came the sound of something falling
on the floor. The figure disappeared. But on the carpet of the study lay a rope.
For a long time nobody spoke. The sweat poured off the doctor's face. The chaplain was
whispering prayers through pale lips. The doctor pointed at the rope.
`That rope has been missing since Linkworth was hanged,' he said.
Then again the telephone rang. This time the chaplain picked up the receiver at once. He listened in
silence.
`Charles Linkworth,' he said at last, `are you truly sorry for your crime?' He waited for an answer,
then he whispered the words of forgiveness.
`I can't hear any more,' said the chaplain, replacing the receiver.
Just then Parker came in with more coffee. Doctor Teesdale pointed to the place where the ghost
had stood. `Take that rope, Parker, and burn it,' he said.
There was a moment's silence.
`There is no rope, sir,' said Parker.