At half-past ten the ghost heard the family going to bed. For a while he was disturbed by wild shouts and laughter from the twins. Obviously the boys were in a good mood and amusing themselves until it was time to go to sleep.

But at a quarter past eleven all the house was quiet, and, at midnight, the ghost went to frighten the family.

An owl could be seen through the window, a raven croaked from the old yew-tree, and the wind blew with a spooky moaning sound; but the Otis family carried on sleeping, not knowing the plans that the ghost had made. Even through the storm he could hear the steady snoring of the Ambassador.

With an evil smile on his cruel, wrinkled mouth, the ghost stepped out of the wall, and the moon hid her face in a cloud as he stole past the great window, past the blue and gold flags of his family and the family of his murdered wife.

On and on he glided, like an evil shadow, and even the darkness seemed to hate him. Once he thought he heard a sudden noise, but it was only the barking of a dog from the Red Farm, which was nearby. He went on, muttering strange sixteenth-century curses, and he often waved his dagger in the midnight air.

Finally he reached the corner of the passage that led to Washington's room. For a moment he paused there, while the wind blew his long, grey hair around on his head, and twisted his dead man's shroud into strange and fantastic shapes.