PENGUIN READERS

Dangerous Game
William Harris Edited by L. G. Alexander
 Dangerous Game

WILLIAM HARRIS
Edited by L. G. Alexander

Level 3

Series Editors: Andy Hopkins and Jocelyn Potter

 Pearson Education Limited
Edinburgh Gate, Harlow,
Essex CM20 2JE, England
and Associated Companies throughout the world.

ISBN: 978-1-4058-8181-4

First published 2000

This edition first published 2008

3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4

Copyright © Pearson Education Ltd 2008

Illustrations by Biz Hull

Typeset by Graphicraft Ltd, Hong Kong

Set in 11/14pt Bembo
Printed in China
SWTC/03

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Published by Pearson Education Limited in association with

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For a complete list of the titles available in the Penguin Readers series please write to your local
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Edinburgh Gate, Harlow, Essex CM20 2JE, England.
 Contents

page
Introduction v
Chapter 1 I’ll Begin at the Beginning 1
Chapter 2 The Game 8
Chapter 3 A Game of Chess 14
Chapter 4 The Game Goes Wrong 20
Chapter 5 Good Games and Bad Games 27
Chapter 6 Monday Night 36
Chapter 7 The Truth 41
Chapter 8 Monday Night Continued 45
Chapter 9 Today is Tuesday 54
Chapter 10 The End 59
Activities 68
 Introduction
My name is William Harris. I’m forty-eight years old. Perhaps you’ve
heard of me. I’m not famous, but many people have heard of me. You
see, I’m a writer. I’ve written about twenty-five books. I write all kinds
of stories: love stories, detective stories and – yes, ghost stories. But don’t
get the wrong idea. This isn’t just another ghost story. This is different
from any story that I’ve ever written. Why? Because it’s a true story.
Everything in this story has really happened . . .

For a number of years, William Harris has lived alone. His wife
is dead and his only friend is Louis. Every Wednesday they play a
game of chess. Then, one night, William feels a strange ‘presence’
in his bedroom, and his life will never be the same again. Every
night, before he goes to sleep, this presence appears in his room.
It is a friendly presence, a poltergeist, and William calls it ‘Poldy’.
At first, he enjoys the company of this friendly ghost, and their
game together makes him very happy. But then the game begins
to change. William’s happiness changes to fear. Perhaps, if he tells
his friend about it, everything will be all right? Or should he move
to another house? But William doesn’t tell anyone his secret, and
he doesn’t want to leave his home. He needs Poldy’s company,
even when the game becomes very dangerous.

L. G. Alexander was born in London in 1932. After completing

his studies at the University of London in 1954, he became a very
successful ELT teacher and writer. His best-known work, New
Concept English (1967), changed the way that English was taught
around the world. This was followed by courses like Look, Listen
and Learn (1971), Follow Me (1980) and Direct English (1993–
1998); practice books like For and Against (1968); grammars like
the Longman English Grammar (1988), and readers like K’s First

v
Case (also a Penguin Reader). All his most important works were
published with Longman, part of the Pearson Group.
L. G. Alexander lived with his wife, Julia, in London until his
death in 2002.

vi
 Chapter 1 I’ll Begin at the Beginning

I don’t know when the game

began.
My wife died twelve years
ago and the game began soon
after that. But I can’t remember
exactly when. I continued to
live in this house after she died.
I still live here. It’s a big house,
but I don’t want to move to a
smaller place. I love this house
and everything in it. You see, I
haven’t got many friends, and
all the things in this house are important to me. I can’t live
without them.
Some time after my wife’s death, I realized that my bedroom
was haunted. It’s the only room in the house that’s haunted. One
night, I suddenly realized there was a ghost in the room. I wasn’t
afraid because this ghost was friendly. It was a happy ghost. I
always wanted to laugh when it was in the room. You’ll say it was
my wife’s ghost. I don’t know. I always think of the ghost as ‘he’,
not ‘she’. I named the ghost ‘Poldy’. I made up the name ‘Poldy’
from the word ‘poltergeist’. You know that a poltergeist is a
playful ghost. It likes to drop things on the floor; it likes to make a
noise; it likes to throw things round the room. It likes to move
your bed and to play games. Poldy was friendly and playful, so we
made up a little game. We play it every night. We’ve played it for
years now. In fact, I must always play the game before I go to
sleep. I can’t go to sleep if I don’t play it. Poldy doesn’t ‘appear’ at
midnight or anything like that. He’s not that kind of ghost. He’s

1
always in the room. But he only appears when we play the game.
Of course, I don’t have to play the game, but I always want to play.
I know Poldy does too. I’m writing this story because I want to
tell you about this game. Nobody knows about it. My best friend
(perhaps he’s my only friend) doesn’t know about it. I know
about it and Poldy knows about it, and that’s all. It’s our secret.
But I’m talking too much. When you live alone, you’re always
talking to yourself ! I must begin at the beginning.
My name is William Harris. I’m forty-eight years old. Perhaps
you’ve heard of me. I’m not famous, but many people have heard
of me. You see, I’m a writer. I’ve written about twenty-five books.
I write all kinds of stories: love stories, detective stories and – yes,
ghost stories. But don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t just another
ghost story. This is different from any story that I’ve ever written.
Why? Because it’s a true story. Everything in this story has really
happened. In fact, strange things are still happening.
I’m not a famous writer, but my books sell quite well. I have
the money to live in this nice house. I can live in the way that I
want to live. I’m not rich, but I’m not poor, either. I live simply.
I’ve always lived simply. When my wife was alive, I didn’t live very
simply. We went out a lot. We had a lot of friends. Since she died,
I don’t go out very much. I like to stay at home and write my
books. ( Just now, I’m writing another detective story. My readers
like my detective stories best. I made up the famous detective
Filbert Wiley. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Perhaps you’ve read
one of my Filbert Wiley stories.) I’ve stopped work on my new
Filbert Wiley book to write this story. I have to write it now
while there’s still time.
But I must tell you something about myself first, and about my
wife. Ah! Life was very different for me when she was alive. My
wife’s name was Julie. She was two years younger than I was. She
was completely different from me. She liked to dance and sing;
she liked to go to parties. Our house was always full of people in

2
those days. ‘Put a suit on, William!’ she often said to me. (I don’t
like suits.) ‘Put a suit on’ meant many things. Perhaps we were
going out. Perhaps friends were coming to dinner. Perhaps we
were having a party. I could never be sure. Anything could
happen. I never knew about it before it happened. My life was in
Julie’s hands. Without her I was nothing. I didn’t want to meet the
world, so Julie brought the world to me.
It was a wonderful life! It was wonderful because Julie made it
like that. All our friends were jealous of me. ‘Lucky old William!’
they often said.‘Lucky man to have a wife like that! He’s so quiet
and so uninteresting, and she’s so alive!’ Oh yes, they were jealous.
You don’t often see happy people, really happy people, I mean.
And we were happy. That was our secret. Love was our secret. I
loved Julie and she loved me. Then, suddenly, Julie became ill, very
ill. I called the best doctors, but they couldn’t do anything. I
looked after her day and night. But in two short months she was
dead. Dead! I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it after all
these years. When she died, part of me died with her. Now she
lives in my memory. I can’t forget her and will never forget her. I
didn’t want to look for another wife. Julie was my wife for twelve
years and now she’s been dead for twelve years. Sadly, we never
had any children. So when she died, I was alone. I shut myself in
my house. I did nothing except work. At first, I wrote my books
because I didn’t want to think of my dear wife. The pain was too
great. In time things were a little better, but the pain has never
really gone. I still feel it sharply when I think of Julie. She’s still
alive in my memory.
Of course, I lost nearly all my friends – all those jealous
friends. They liked Julie, but they didn’t like me very much.
Without Julie, I didn’t go out. I didn’t go to parties. I didn’t ask
other people to come to my house and all my ‘friends’ soon left
me. Nobody was jealous of me. I wasn’t ‘lucky old William’; just
‘poor old William’. Now I have only one real friend. His name is

3
Louis. He’s a writer too. But I don’t know anything about his
books. I haven’t read any of them. In fact, I haven’t seen his books
in any bookshop. Louis and I never talk about books. That’s
because we have the same interests. We both like chess. We have a
game of chess once a week. Louis comes to see me every
Wednesday. He always arrives at eight o’clock in the evening and
we play chess for about three hours. Sometimes we play a number
of games; sometimes only one. At about eleven, Louis goes home
and I go to bed and play a different kind of game with Poldy, but
I’ll tell you about that later. Louis is really a very good friend.
We play chess and never talk very much. Sometimes we don’t say
anything all evening. Good friends don’t need to talk. Louis
knows me very well and I know him very well. We’ve been
friends since we were students together. Louis was my friend
before I met Julie. He knows a lot about me. But there are some
things that he doesn’t know. He’ll be surprised when he reads this
story.
Louis and I have played chess together for years. He often
came here when Julie was alive. Julie and I never went to parties
on a Wednesday, because that was always my day. I must tell you
that Louis will be here tomorrow. It’s Tuesday today. Tuesday
morning. I’m sitting at my desk in my study. I’m writing this
story. The winter sun is shining through my study window. It’s a
beautiful day, but I don’t want to go out. I never want to go out
these days. Filbert Wiley is my only company. Just now I’m very
tired: very, very sleepy because I didn’t sleep well last night. I
played a game with Poldy and it didn’t end for a very long time.
I’ll tell you about this game, but not yet.
Well, that’s my life. It’s a very simple life and not a very
interesting one, is it? How can life without Julie be interesting?
Here I am, a middle-aged writer, alone in a big house. I have only
one real friend in the world. I have my books. I have Filbert
Wiley, the famous detective. Perhaps I live through Filbert. I have

4
my chess and I have my memories. But it’s not a sad life and it’s
not a very quiet life. A lot happens in this house. There’s a lot of
noise and laughter . . . because I have Poldy. And I haven’t told
you anything about Poldy – yet! Poldy and laughter go together. I
mean, they went together at first!
I don’t know when the game began. I’ve already told you that.
I can’t remember when I first met Poldy. But I can remember
very clearly how I met him. I can remember the first time that he
‘appeared’. The first time that I realized he was in my bedroom. I
can remember every detail. So I want to tell you about it in detail.
My bedroom wasn’t haunted when Julie was alive. Or perhaps it
was and I didn’t realize it. I’ll never know.
Do you believe in ghosts? I’ve written a number of ghost
stories, but they were only stories. I never believed in ghosts
before. And I’m not sure I do now. But I know one thing. I’m
sure there’s a poltergeist in my bedroom. I can’t say more than
that.
Here are a few details about my bedroom. You need to know
them before I can tell my story. There’s a big double bed in the
room. Yes, it’s the same double bed that Julie and I slept in. The
head of the bed is against a wall. I sleep on one side of the bed. It’s
the same side that I’ve always slept on. There’s a bedside table next
to the bed. There’s a bedside light on the table. There’s a light
socket near the floor. The light socket is for my bedside light. My
light has a long cord. There’s a plug at the end of the cord and this
plug goes into the light socket. Don’t laugh at these details.
They’re all very important. You’ll understand the reason soon.
One dark winter night, I was reading in bed. It wasn’t an
interesting book and I was very sleepy. I usually switch off the
light when I want to go to sleep. (My light has a small white
switch.) But that night I didn’t switch off the light in the usual
way. (I don’t know why.) Strangely, I reached over the side of the
bed and pulled the plug out of the socket. Why did I do this? I

5
still don’t know. It was a funny thing to do. When I pulled the
plug out, I suddenly wasn’t sleepy. I was awake – really awake. The
room was dark, completely black, but my eyes were wide open.
My book fell to the floor. It hit the floor with a loud sound, but I
didn’t notice. I sat up in bed with my eyes open. I rested my back
against the head of the bed. I looked into the dark room. Of
course, I couldn’t see anything. But just then, I knew there was
someone in the room. I didn’t know where in the room, but it?
he? she? was somewhere in front of me. Many minutes passed. I
looked hard into the dark. I waited, but I still couldn’t see
anything. I wasn’t afraid. The ‘person’ in the room was very
friendly. I was happy. I couldn’t hear anything, but there was
laughter in the air. ‘Who is it?’ I called. ‘Who’s there?’ But there
was no answer. I waited for a long time. The ‘person’ in the room
was a friend, a good friend. I wanted to meet this friend very
much. ‘If I switch on the light, perhaps I’ll see him,’ I thought. I
pressed the switch on my bedside light. I pressed it on and off, but
nothing happened. Then I remembered. The plug wasn’t in its
socket! So I reached over the side of the bed and pushed the plug
back into the socket. Suddenly, the light came on. The room was
empty. I could feel it. I knew the ‘person’ wasn’t there. I pulled the
plug out again and waited. Nothing. The room was still empty. I
put the plug in and the light came on again. There was still
nobody there. I switched the light off (from the light switch), but
nothing happened. I was alone without my friend. I stayed awake
for many hours. I thought, ‘It’s a poltergeist,’ and immediately the
name ‘Poldy’ came into my head. I called out, ‘Poldy! Poldy!’ but
he didn’t come back. In the end I fell asleep. But I knew
something important was happening to me. This was my first
meeting with the friendly ghost, my first meeting with Poldy.
This was the beginning.

6
 Chapter 2 The Game

I woke up late the next

morning.
The cold winter sun was
already up. My room was light.
I sat up in bed and thought
about the night before. Did
those things really happen?
Was it all a dream? I looked
over the side of the bed. Yes,
my book was on the floor. I
looked at the light and the
plug. Yes, the plug was in its
socket. The details were right. I got up slowly. I washed and had
breakfast. Then I went to my study. (I was writing a detective
story at the time, I remember.) The adventures of Filbert Wiley
soon filled my day and I forgot about the adventures of the night
before.
I finished work early. I wasn’t sleepy in the evening, but I went
to bed earlier than usual – at about ten o’clock. I sat in bed and
thought about the night before. I didn’t want to read, so I sat
quietly with the light on. Then, very carefully, I switched it off
(from the light switch) and waited. I looked into the dark room.
Nothing happened. The room was ‘empty’. ‘This is silly,’ I
thought. I switched the light on again and got a book – an
interesting one this time. I read for a long time and began to feel
sleepy. I put my book on the bedside table. Then I wanted to
switch the light off. But I didn’t use the switch – I don’t know
why. Strangely, I reached over the side of the bed and found the
cord. Then I found the plug and pulled it out of the socket.
Immediately, I knew Poldy was there. The friendly ghost was
somewhere in the room. ‘Poldy!’ I called. There was no answer. I

8
got out of bed and walked round the room. Poldy was there. I
knew it. In the end, I went back to bed. I reached over the side
and pushed the plug into its socket. The light came on. Poldy
wasn’t there. When I switched the light off again (from the
switch) he didn’t come back. I switched the light on and off a
number of times, but nothing happened. So I went to sleep.
The next night I made an important discovery. It was my first
important discovery: the first of a number of discoveries I went
to bed at my usual time. I didn’t read. I immediately switched off
the light (from the light switch) and waited for Poldy, but he
didn’t appear . But when I pulled the plug out of the socket, he
‘appeared’. Or I felt he was there. When I put the plug back in, he
‘disappeared’. This was my important discovery. Poldy never
‘appeared’ when I used the light switch. He appeared only when I
pulled the plug out. He appeared only once. When I put the plug
back in, he disappeared. He didn’t come back.
I tried this the night after. I pulled the plug out when I went to
bed. Poldy was there. I put it back and the light came on: Poldy
wasn’t there. I pulled the plug out again, but he didn’t come back.
After that I put it back and pulled it out a number of times, but
nothing happened. So I knew. Poldy came only once: when I
pulled the plug out. He went away when I put it back.
For many nights after that, I enjoyed Poldy’s company.
Sometimes I sat in the dark for hours with Poldy in the room. I
enjoyed this very much. I could ‘bring’ him into the room or I
could ‘send him away’ with the light plug, but I could only do it
once I could keep the plug out of its socket for a long time. In
that way I was able to enjoy Poldy’s company for hours and
hours. I was happy when Poldy was in the room. I often called to
him, but he never gave me any sign of his presence. I could only
‘feel’ his presence: there was no other sign.
I never told anyone about Poldy. Louis came on Wednesdays
and we played chess, but I never told him my secret. One

10
Wednesday evening he said to me: ‘You’re very well, William.
Always smiling and happy. It’s nice to see you like this. Perhaps
you have a secret life!’ I smiled and said nothing. It was true of
course: I had a secret life, but I didn’t tell Louis about it. I know
he’s my best, my only friend. But I don’t think he can understand
things like this.
I enjoyed Poldy’s company in this way for nearly a year. Then
one night something strange happened. I pulled the plug out and
Poldy was in my room. I was sitting in bed. I called out to him:
‘Poldy!’ and he gave me the first sign of his presence. I heard a
knock. It came from the other side of the room. Then there was
another knock. The knocks got louder and came nearer and
nearer to my bed. Then the knocking stopped. I wasn’t afraid: in
fact, I laughed. Then the knocking began again: it moved away
from my bed to the other side of the room. It was a strange
knocking sound. How can I describe it? Well, it was like someone
with a wooden leg. It was like a wooden leg on the floor. When a
man walks with a wooden leg, you can hear a knock. Knock,
knock, knock – like that. I was very happy. At last I had a sign
from Poldy. I could feel he was there. And I could hear he was
there. ‘He’s not afraid of me,’ I thought. ‘So he’s given me a
sign.’
Every day I worked in my usual way, but my life was different
now. Every night I enjoyed Poldy’s company. He became more
and more friendly. He gave me different signs of his presence.
Sometimes he shook my bed. I laughed and he shook it again. Or
sometimes he shook a chair in my room. I could hear it on the
floor. Or sometimes he threw things round the room. I couldn’t
see them in the dark, but I could hear them. Once a hand-mirror
flew right past my face. Sometimes Poldy opened and shut my
bedroom door. He did this very quickly a number of times.
Sometimes he played little jokes. Once I found my shirt in my
bed. Another time I found one of my shoes in my bed. I always

11
laughed at these jokes. I think Poldy liked to hear laughter. He
always knocked at the window or shook my bed.
I tried hard to see him. I looked into the dark room, but I
never saw anything. But I could feel his presence and I could hear
him.
When I got tired of all these jokes, I pushed the plug back into
its socket. The light came on and Poldy went away. Then I always
switched the light off and went to sleep.
One night I made my second important discovery. Poldy was
in my room. He ‘walked’ to my bed and away from it many times.
He shook my bed and knocked at my door. In the end, I was very
sleepy. ‘I’ll put the plug back in,’ I thought. ‘The light will come
on and Poldy will go away. Then I’ll turn it off and go to sleep.’ I
reached over the side of the bed and picked up the plug.
Suddenly, Poldy pulled the cord and the plug flew out of my
hand. I had to find it (and it wasn’t easy) and I put it in the socket.
But this was an important discovery. Poldy didn’t just want to give
me signs of his presence. He didn’t just want to play little jokes.
He wanted to play a game with me.
In the end, we made up this game with the light plug. The
rules of the game were very simple. But it took us a long time to
make them up. The rules ‘grew’. They were like this:

Rule 1: I went to bed with the light still on.

Rule 2: I pulled out the plug from the socket and Poldy
appeared. I didn’t only feel his presence: he always
gave me a clear sign. I heard ‘knock, knock’ at the
other side of the room.
Rule 3: Poldy then began to ‘walk’ towards my bed. I had to
put the plug back in the socket before he reached my
bed. Poldy had to reach my bed before I put the plug
back in. That was the game. If Poldy reached my bed
first, he ‘won’. He shook my bed and the game began

12
 again. If I put the plug in first, I won. Poldy
disappeared when the light came on. He didn’t
return.

We played this game every night for a long time, perhaps two
years. Poldy usually won a number of times each night. I laughed
a lot when we played. It was a very happy game. And then
something went wrong. I don’t know what and I don’t know
how. But something went wrong, very wrong.

13
 Chapter 3 A Game of Chess

‘Your move,’ Louis said.

‘My move?’ I answered. ‘I’ve
just moved.’
‘No,’ Louis said. ‘I’ve just
moved. It’s your move.’ He
pointed at the chess board.
‘Don’t be silly, Louis!’ I said
sharply. ‘I know when I’ve
moved. And I know when I
haven’t moved.’
‘Well, you haven’t moved
and it’s your move,’ Louis
repeated. ‘You aren’t watching the game, William.’
‘The game?’ I cried suddenly. ‘Which game? Who told you
about the game? What do you know about the game? I’ve never
told anyone about the game. It’s my secret. Do you understand?
It’s my secret. Just Poldy and I .. We...’ I was shouting. I could
hear my voice. I stopped suddenly. Louis was looking at me
strangely.
‘Is there anything that you want to tell me, William?’
‘Eh? What?’
‘Is there anything that you want to tell me? There’s something
on your mind.’
‘There isn’t anything on my mind,’ I said, thinking, ‘I must be
more careful.’ I looked up at Louis. ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘There is
something on my mind. It’s this new Filbert Wiley story. It’s on
my mind all the time. It’s a story about a game. The game’s on my
mind. I’m sorry I spoke like that a minute ago.’
‘That’s all right,’ Louis said kindly. ‘Your story sounds very
interesting, but now we’re playing a game of chess.’
‘Yes, I must think about that,’ I said.

14
 ‘Who is this... this Poldy?’ Louis asked.
‘Poldy?’ I cried. ‘What do you know about Poldy? Who told
you about Poldy?’ I could hear my angry voice again. I was
shouting. Again, I stopped suddenly. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘ You told me about Poldy, William,’ Louis said. ‘A minute ago
you said: “Just Poldy and I . . . We...”’
‘Did I say that?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Louis said. ‘I know you very well, William. You haven’t
got many friends. Is this Poldy a new friend? Poldy is a very
unusual name, isn’t it?’
‘It is an unusual name,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you about Poldy if you
want to hear about him. Poldy is only a character in my new
Filbert Wiley story.’
‘What sort of character?’
‘I don’t know. He’s a playful character. He plays all kinds of
jokes.’
‘I mean, is he good or bad?’ Louis asked.
‘Oh, he’s good,’ I said immediately. ‘A very... very nice – er –
person. He’s kind and funny and I like him a lot, b u t . . . b u t . . . ’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, sometimes I think he’s bad too. Poldy’s character isn’t
clear in my mind. Sometimes I think he’s evil. You know, very
evil.’
‘Evil? But you said he’s funny and kind and playful.’
‘That’s an interesting point,’ I said. ‘Tell me, Louis. Can a person
be evil and funny and kind and playful at the same time? What do
you think?’
‘I’ve never thought about it,’ Louis said.
‘I’ll tell you about Poldy, if I can,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to tell you.
Poldy...’
Suddenly, I heard a loud ‘knock, knock’ from upstairs.
Louis and I were in the living room. The living room is below
my bedroom. The ‘knock, knock’ came from my bedroom.

15
 ‘What’s the matter, William?’ Louis asked. ‘Your face is white.
You were telling me about Poldy.’
‘Did you hear a knock, Louis?’ I asked. ‘Like this.’ I picked up a
wooden chess piece and knocked on the table. ‘Like a wooden leg
on the floor. Like a man with a wooden leg.’
‘No, of course not,’ Louis said. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’
 ‘But it came from upstairs.’
‘No. It’s very quiet in here.’
‘Then I probably imagined it.’
‘Yes,’ Louis answered. ‘You imagined it. You’re a writer,
William, and you live in your imagination. But you must be
careful. Imagination can be dangerous.’
‘In what way dangerous?’
‘Well, it can rule your life. You’re working too hard. You don’t
go out enough. You have an uninteresting life — in the real world,
I mean. You’re in your study all day. You’re alone in this big house.
Then at night you sleep and the next day you’re in your study
again. You need friends. You need the air and the sky and the sun.
You don’t live as a person but only through your imagination.
And that’s dangerous because adventures in the mind can rule
your life. You start to think this Poldy is a real person. But he’s
only a character in one of your stories. He’s just like Filbert Wiley.
He isn’t real. He doesn’t exist.’
‘Oh, but he does exist.’
‘Yes, but only in your mind.’
‘So he exists and is real. Hamlet was one of Shakespeare’s
characters. But he exists. He’s real. Queen Elizabeth I existed. She
was alive and she ruled England, but she’s not more real than
Hamlet. Don’t you think that Hamlet is a real person? Like
Queen Elizabeth was a real person? I mean they’re both real
persons in our minds.’
‘That’s an Interesting point,’ Louis said.‘Tilings can exist in the
mind or in the real world. So the character in your story — this
Poldy — is “real” to you. And I’m “real” to you in the same way.
Right?’
‘Right,’ I said.
‘I always knew you were a thinker, William,’ Louis said. ‘Now
let’s get back to this game of chess. It’s your move.’
‘My move? I’ve just moved.’

17
 ‘Let’s not start that again. Look, we’ll go through the moves
from the beginning. I’m white and you’re black. Right?’
‘Right.’
Louis went through the game from the beginning.
‘We’ve both moved fourteen times,’ Louis said. ‘I’m white so I
moved first. Now I’ve just moved again: that’s the fifteenth move.
And it’s your move.’
I looked at the chess board hard for a long time. ‘You’re right,’ I
said. ‘I wasn’t watching the game.’
‘Yes, I told you that,’ Louis answered. ‘Your mind’s on other
things.’
‘Well, I’m looking at the game now and I don’t like it. It’s gone
wrong.’
‘Not for me, but for you,’ Louis said.
‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘Something’s wrong, very wrong. I can’t do
anything about it.’ I moved my king.
Louis immediately moved his queen. He picked up the big
wooden chess piece and put it down hard on the chess board. It
hit the board with a loud knock.
‘You can’t move anywhere,’ Louis said loudly. ‘I’m afraid you’ve
lost the game.’
I looked at the chess board. ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘I can’t move
the king anywhere.’
‘You didn’t play very well,’ Louis said, ‘You didn’t play your
usual game.’
‘I know,’ I answered.
‘Do you know why?’ Louis asked.
‘No. Why? Tell me.’
‘Because your mind wasn’t on the game. Your mind was on this
character, Poldy. I didn’t win. Poldy won.’
‘How?’
‘Because he rules your mind. Thinkers and writers must live
too. Their ideas mustn’t rule their lives.’

18
 ‘You’re right, Louis,’ I said.
Louis looked at his watch. ‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘It’s ten to twelve.
It’s late. I must go.’ He got up. ‘Thanks for the game, William.
Good night and I’ll see you next week.’
‘Thank you, Louis,’ I said. ‘Good night.’ I got up and suddenly
knocked the chess board off the table. It hit the floor and the
pieces went across the room.
‘You’ve really lost the game now,’ Louis laughed.

19
 Chapter 4 The Game Goes Wrong

That game of chess was about

five years ago.
Of course, I’ve played chess
with Louis once a week since
then. I’ll have a game with him
tomorrow. But I’ve described
that game of chess because I
remember it in detail. At that
time my game with Poldy was
beginning to go wrong. This
didn’t happen suddenly. Oh, no.
It happened slowly, very slowly.
I didn’t really notice it at first.
Louis never spoke to me about Poldy again and of course I
never spoke about Poldy. Louis believed that Poldy was a
character in my detective story. He doesn’t know that Poldy really
exists. Poldy doesn’t exist only in my mind or in my imagination,
but he exists in the real world. He lives in my room. Sometimes I
don’t think of it as my room, but as Poldy’s room.
I nearly forgot to be careful that night with Louis. I talked
about Poldy and that was wrong. I know that Poldy heard me.
The loud ‘knock, knock’ from upstairs was a message. Of course,
Louis didn’t hear it because it was a message for me. Poldy was
saying, ‘Be quiet, William! This is our secret, remember?’ So I’ve
been very careful since then. I never speak about my work
because I don’t want Louis to ask any questions about Poldy.
Things began to go wrong and this happened little by little. I
first noticed it about two months before the game of chess with
Louis. One night Poldy and I were playing our usual game. I
pulled the plug out of its socket and the room was dark. I always
‘feel’ that Poldy is there. After that, he gives me a clear sign of his

20
presence. Sometimes he knocks on the floor, sometimes on the
window. Sometimes he shakes my bed. But that night Poldy
didn’t give me a sign. I felt he was there. That was all. I sat up in
bed and called to him. ‘Poldy! You’re there, I know. I’m ready to
play. Are you ready?’
But nothing happened.
I got out of bed and walked round the room. I walked very
quietly across the wooden floor. My footsteps were very light, but
I could hear them. Suddenly, I thought Poldy was behind me. I
stopped and turned round. Of course, I didn’t see anything. I
walked up and down the room and stopped suddenly a number
of times. Poldy was following me. I stood and listened. Then I
heard a soft knock on the floor. It was right behind me. It got
louder and louder. I turned round and it stopped.
I was angry ‘What are you doing, Poldy?’ I asked. ‘You’re not
playing the game. Are you going to play the game or aren’t you?
Very well,’ I said. ‘I’m going to punish you. I’m going back to bed.
I’m going to put the plug in and send you away. I’m going to
punish you.’
I climbed back into bed. ‘I’ll try again,’ I said. ‘Do you want to
play or not?’ Again, nothing happened. ‘I’ll count up to three,’ I
said. I counted slowly. ‘One. Two. Three.’ I reached over the side of
the bed and touched the floor with my hand. I found the cord,
but suddenly the cord began to move through my hand. I held it
and pulled, but Poldy pulled too. I pulled with one hand and I
tried to find the plug with the other. I was nearly on the floor
now. I found the plug and pushed it in. The light came on and
Poldy wasn’t there.
I switched off the light from the switch, but lay awake for a
long time. My heart was going wildly. ‘That’s funny,’ I thought.
‘Why doesn’t he play? He’s like a little boy Perhaps he wants to
change the rules. He’s playing jokes.’ But in my heart I knew
Poldy wasn’t playing jokes. I then made my third important

21
discovery. Something was wrong with our game. After that, it was
never the same again.
The next night I was afraid. This was the first time that I felt
fear in my games with Poldy. I couldn’t pull the plug out. I lay in
bed for a long time with the light on. I was really afraid. At last I
was ready. ‘What’s going to happen,’ I thought, ‘when I pull the
plug out?’
But Poldy didn’t play any jokes. We played our usual happy
game. I enjoyed it and Poldy enjoyed it.
For many nights after that, we played our game. ‘Well, perhaps
I’ve made a mistake,’ I thought. ‘Nothing has changed. Poldy was
only playing jokes that night.’
But I was wrong.
I had a very bad night before my game of chess with Louis (the
game that I’ve already described). There was a full moon that
night, so I didn’t close the curtains. I always closed the curtains,
but not this time. The room was full of light. My light was on
when I got into bed. After a short time, I pulled the plug out. I
was ready to begin the game. But nothing happened. Poldy gave
no sign. He was there, of course. I sat in bed and waited. I could
see the full moon through my window. There were dark shadows
on the floor. There were shadows on the walls. I could hear a cat
outside. It was crying like a baby. I don’t like that noise. I got up
and opened the window. ‘Ssshh!’ I cried. The cat stopped. Then it
started again. ‘Ssshh!’ I cried again. I saw the cat: a fat black one. It
ran across the garden. ‘Good,’ I thought. I went back to bed. ‘Are
we going to play or aren’t we?’ I asked. I could see the room
clearly. I could see the chair with my clothes on it. I could see the
big wardrobe in the corner of the room. I looked at the wardrobe.
I looked at it for a long time. Suddenly, the wardrobe door began
to open very quietly. Just a little at first. Then more and more.
Soon it was wide open.
I keep my clothes in the wardrobe. I haven’t got many clothes

22
because I don’t need them. There are a few shirts, two pairs of
trousers, two suits and an old coat.
The wardrobe door was wide open, so I could see inside. I saw
my shirts, my suits and the coat. Then my coat began to move. It
‘stepped’ outside the wardrobe. It stood in front of the wardrobe
door.
‘Poldy,’ I said slowly.
Poldy (or the coat) didn’t listen to me. It stood there like a
person: a person without a head or legs or hands. Then it began to
‘walk’ towards me. After a few slow steps, it put up an ‘arm’ and
shook it at me.
I was angry with Poldy. ‘I’ve had enough of your silly jokes!’ I
cried. ‘I’m going to punish you. I’m going to send you away. If
you won’t play, then I must punish you.’ I reached over the side of
the bed and picked up the plug. It was easy to find in the
moonlight. ‘See?’ I asked and held up the plug. ‘I’m going to put it
in the socket now and you’re going to go away.’
The coat moved suddenly towards me. An arm reached for the
plug and took it from my hands. The cord went through my
fingers and the light fell onto the floor.
I got up angrily. The coat dropped the plug and went back
into the wardrobe quickly. The wardrobe door shut with a loud
noise. I picked up the light and put it back onto the bedside table.
Then I went towards the wardrobe. I opened it a little. I put my
hand inside and felt the clothes. My coat was in its place. I could
feel it. It was soft and empty. I pulled the wardrobe door open and
looked inside. It was empty, quite empty: there was no sign of
Poldy.
‘I see,’ I said. ‘You want me to close the curtains before we play.’
I went to the window and looked out. The black cat was there
again. It was still crying like a baby. ‘Ssshh!’ I shouted, but it didn’t
stop. I put my hand on the curtain, and then I noticed something.
Someone was standing behind the curtain. I could clearly see the

23
shape of a ‘person’ behind the curtain. I tried to close it, but I
couldn’t. The ‘person’ didn’t let me. ‘Oh!’ I shouted angrily. ‘This
is stupid!’ I went back to bed and the curtain moved across the
window. Now the room was in complete darkness. ‘So you want
to play now,’ I said. There was no answer, of course — just the
sound of the cat outside the window. I reached for the plug on
the floor, found it and put it in the socket. The light came on.
Poldy wasn’t there.
Again, I lay awake for a long time. ‘That was a bad game,’ I
thought, ‘a very bad game.’ While I lay there, I could hear my
heart. It was going wildly. And I could hear the cat outside. It
never stopped. It cried like a baby all night.

26
 Chapter 5 Good Games and Bad Games

In the past five years, until the

present time, I’ve continued to
play games with Poldy. We’ve
played every night. We’ve
played good games and bad
games. I’ve already described
the good games. They’re very
simple and always fun. I’m
happy when I’m playing good
games. But I’m sad when I’m
playing bad ones.
In what way is a ‘good’
game different from a ‘bad’ game, you will ask. Well, I’ve already
described a few bad games. Perhaps you’ve noticed that in a bad
game there are no rules. Anything can happen. And another
thing: when I’m playing a good game, I’m never afraid. But when
I’m playing a bad game, my heart is full of fear. The bad games are
like an evil message.
I want to describe some of the games in the past five years. At
the beginning (at the time of that game of chess with Louis) we
didn’t play many bad games. But after a time we played a good
game one night and a bad game the next night. This was true
until two years ago. And this is when I began to worry. Worry and
fear were always present in my life.
Why did Poldy begin to play bad games? I’ve often asked
myself this question and I’ve never been able to explain why. I’ve
thought of many different reasons. Perhaps you can think of a few
reasons. But it isn’t easy to be sure.
At first I thought Poldy was jealous. Perhaps he was jealous
when I won a game. So I decided to lose for a time. But he still
wanted to play bad games.

27
 Perhaps Poldy wanted to punish me. Why did he want to do
that? I thought about this a lot. Perhaps Poldy was angry because
I told Louis about him. But I didn’t tell Louis anything. Louis
thinks Poldy is a character in one of my detective stories. He
doesn’t know he’s a ghost, a poltergeist. And the bad games began
a long time before I said anything to Louis.
Who is Poldy? I’ve often thought about this too. If I learn the
answer to this question, perhaps I’ll have the answer to my first
question: Why does he want to play bad games? But I can’t find
the answer. I’ve often asked myself: ‘Is Poldy the ghost of my dead
wife? Is “Poldy” really “Julie”?’ I think the answer to this question is:
No. Poldy has never given me any sign. For example, there’s a
photo of Julie on my bedroom wall. Poldy has never shaken it or
moved it. I’ve kept one of Julie’s dresses. It’s a beautiful party dress.
It’s in my wardrobe. Poldy has never ‘touched’ it. He’s often taken
my clothes out of the wardrobe. If Poldy is Julie, he — or she — can
easily give me a sign. Julie loved me and I loved her. So I don’t
think Poldy is Julie. But I’m not really sure.
Is Poldy just part of my imagination? No, a thousand times no.
Why? Because all these things really happen. I don’t imagine
them. They are facts. Poldy exists.
Little by little, Poldy and I played more and more bad games.
Then I began to worry. I only wanted to play good games. How
could I escape bad ones? I tried to escape them in a number of
ways. I’ll describe some of these ways to you.
I always know when we’re going to play a bad game. I can feel
evil in the air before the game begins. Then there’s one thing that
I always try to do I try to pull the plug out and put it back
immediately. In this way, Poldy doesn’t have time to play. He goes
away when the plug goes back in. Poldy was surprised when I
first did this. It worked very well. But now he stops me. He
knows when I’m going to try.
Here’s another way I’ve tried to escape bad games. Remember,

28
Poldy only haunts my bedroom. He never haunts another part of
the house. I’ve tried to sleep in other rooms in my house. But I
can’t escape a bad game like that. One night I slept in my study. I
had a strange dream. I dreamt that I was sleeping in my study. In
my dream, I got up and went to my bedroom. I sat in my own
bed and read a book with the light on. In my dream, I pulled the
plug out — and then, suddenly, I woke up. I wasn’t in my study
when I woke up, but in my bedroom. I was reaching over the side
of the bed. The plug was in my hand. I walked to my bedroom in
my sleep. Poldy did this: he pulled me back to the bedroom
through my dream.
I tried another thing. I tried not to play the game. One night I
sat in bed with the light on. Then I turned the light off from the
switch. Of course (this is always the rule), Poldy didn’t appear. I
went to sleep easily. But during the night I suddenly woke up and
switched on the light. I don’t know why. I had to. Then I pulled
the plug out and the game began. This happened a number of
times.
You will ask me: Why don’t you sell your house and go away?
I’ve asked myself this question too. The fact is, I can’t. I’ve often
thought about it, but I can’t do it. I’ve tried another thing. I’ve left
my house at night and gone to a hotel. But when I do this, I can’t
sleep. I always leave the hotel during the night. I pay the bill at
three or four o’clock in the morning and go home. It isn’t easy to
leave a hotel at four in the morning! (Try it and see!) After that, I
go to bed and play a game with Poldy. So, you see, I can never
escape a game. Poldy always finds a way to bring me back to my
bedroom.
Until a year ago, we often played a lot of bad games. But Poldy
never ‘touched’ me at any time. I often tried to ‘touch’ him. But
he never ‘touched’ me. This was a kind of rule. I can’t describe my
fear when Poldy first ‘touched’ me.
It all happened one night about a year ago. I went to bed at

29
eleven o’clock. I knew it was going to be a ‘bad’ night and not a
‘good’ night. I could feel it. I read for hours because I didn’t want
to pull the plug out. In the end, I was very sleepy, but of course I
couldn’t sleep. I reached over the side of the bed in my usual way
and pulled the plug out. Immediately my eyes were wide open
and I was awake. Poldy was there and we were ready for the
game. During a bad game, Poldy doesn’t always give a clear sign
of his presence, but that night he gave a very clear sign. I lay in
bed in fear and waited. Nothing happened for a minute and then
the bed began to move. Poldy wasn’t shaking the bed. He was
lifting it off the floor! The bed moved into the air. I reached over
the side and tried to touch the floor. I tried to find the plug. But I
couldn’t reach the floor. The bed was (I think) about a metre
above the floor! Then the bed began to turn round: slowly at first.
It went round and round and round, first slowly, then faster and
faster and faster and faster! Suddenly, it stopped in the air and
dropped to the floor quickly. It touched the floor lightly and was
in its usual place: the head of the bed was against the wall, with
the bedside table next to me. I tried to reach the plug. I touched
the floor with my fingers and found it. I tried to put it back and
then Poldy hit my hand sharply! I dropped the plug in fear. For
the first time, he touched me — and he hit me!
I lay back in bed. The room was quiet. The bed didn’t move.
Then I felt something above my head. It was like a bird. I put my
hand above my head. There was nothing there. Then something
touched my hair lightly — like a soft hand. Fingers went lightly
through my hair!
I jumped out of bed and ran to the other side of the room. I
heard footsteps behind me. I turned round. Poldy was behind me.
I turned round again and again, but Poldy was always behind me.
Then he hit me in the face!
Then he began to push me. He gave me a little push at first: he
pushed my face softly. After that, he began to push my arms and

30
legs very hard. I kicked and shouted, but I couldn’t stop him. I
jumped back into bed and you will never believe it — Poldy bit
my face very hard! I cried out in pain. I reached over the side of
the bed and touched the floor. I touched it wildly to find the
plug. At last, the plug was in my hand. I tried to find the socket. I
touched the wall with my fingers, but in my fear I couldn’t find
it. ‘Please! Please!’ I shouted. ‘Where is it? Where’s the socket?’
Someone or something tried to pull the plug out of my hand. But
in my fear I was strong — stronger than Poldy. I pushed the plug in
hard. The light came on — and suddenly, I was alone. ‘Ah!’ I cried.
My heart went wildly and my body shook in fear.
That was a very bad night. It was the first time that Poldy ever
touched me. After that, he often touched me. Sometimes he
touched softly with his fingers, sometimes he pushed me, hit me
or kicked me. It wasn’t just a bad game now. It was a dangerous
game.
We began to play more and more bad games. I’ve already told
you that. But the number of bad games and good games was the
same. That was true a year ago. But after Poldy touched me the
first time, something changed. We never played another good
game. During the past year we’ve played only bad games every
night. All our games are bad, but they’re not all the same. Some
are just ‘bad’; others are very, very bad and very dangerous. Poldy
has become completely evil. He only shows me the evil side of
his character. My bedroom is an evil place. It’s evil in the daytime.
It’s evil when Poldy isn’t there. It’s evil all the time. What can I
do? I don’t know. I just don’t know.
Until a month ago, I was all right during the day. I went to my
study every day and wrote. This took my mind off Poldy. I
thought of new adventures for Filbert Wiley and I enjoyed doing
this. But during the past month I haven’t been able to work. I still
come to my study every day, but I sit at my desk and look out of
the window. I don’t write anything. I sleep very little. I eat very

31
little. I’m thin and weak. But today I’m writing. I’m writing these
words. I’m writing quickly before it’s too late. I have to write this
story of my life with Poldy before it’s too late.
You will ask: Why don’t you tell Louis about this?
Louis still comes on Wednesdays and we still play chess. I never
play chess well now and he always wins. I’m always tired and
worried.
‘What’s the matter with you, William?’ Louis asked last week. ‘I
can’t understand. You’re ill. You must see a doctor. I’m worried
about you. If you don’t call a doctor, I’ll call one.’
Of course Louis mustn’t call a doctor. ‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I know
I’m not very well. But I’ll be better soon. I’m writing a very
strange story about Filbert Wiley. I’ll be better when I finish the
story. I know I will. So please don’t call a doctor. Do you
promise?’
‘All right, William,’ Louis said. ‘I promise.’
Louis is a good friend. I know he’ll keep his promise.
Have I tried to tell Louis about Poldy? Yes, I have. Many times.
But every time I try, I can’t speak. I’ve tried to ask Louis to stay in
the house with me for a night, but again, I can’t. When I try to
open my mouth, I can’t. Then I always hear that ‘knock, knock’
from the room above. I always hear a message from Poldy. The
words ‘It’s our secret’ come into my head. Perhaps a real voice
speaks these words. Perhaps it’s Poldy’s voice. It speaks kindly, but
there’s always a message in the voice.
One Wednesday about two months ago, I was playing chess
with Louis. I was very tired after a very bad night. I tried to play
chess and I didn’t think of Poldy, but Louis suddenly remembered
the name ‘Poldy’ and spoke to me during the game.
‘William,’ Louis said. ‘I was in a bookshop the other day and I
was looking at your books — the Filbert Wiley stories. I remember
once — about five years ago — you spoke to me about a new
character. You called this character “Poldy”. I’ve never forgotten

34
his name because it’s a strange name. I don’t like the name, but
I’ve always remembered it. I bought all your books from the last
five years and took them home. I read them all and enjoyed them,
but I didn’t find this character “Poldy” in any of them.’
My face was white. Poldy was knocking hard on the floor of
the room above. I could hear it, but Louis couldn’t. In the end I
said, ‘Yes, Louis. I didn’t use that character in my story. I changed
the story.’
‘Why?’ Louis asked. ‘I remember he was an interesting
character, good and evil at the same time.’
‘No!’ I shouted. ‘He’s evil, evil, only evil!’ The knock on the
floor above was louder and louder. It was like a wild dance. I
heard the message and stopped shouting. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said in a
quiet voice. ‘No, I didn’t use that character.’ (I couldn’t say the
name ‘Poldy’.)
We continued to play chess. The game ended in the usual way.
Louis said, ‘You can’t move anywhere,’ and I lost. Louis said
goodnight and left.
That night Poldy really punished me. He pushed me, kicked
me and hit me. The funny thing is: you can never see any signs of
this ‘punishment’ on my body. I’m often in great pain, but it never
shows on my body. Then I made my fourth important discovery:
Poldy didn’t like Louis. He didn’t want him to come to my
house. He wanted to be alone with me all the time. The games on
Tuesday nights (the nights before Louis came) were always very,
very bad.
I don’t enjoy Tuesday evenings now. I’m afraid of Tuesday
nights. And it’s Tuesday today!

35
 Chapter 6 Monday Night

I want to tell you about last

night in detail because we’ve
never played a dangerous game
like that before. I shake when I
think of it. I’m shaking at this
minute while I’m writing these
words.
But I’ll begin at the
beginning. Yesterday I sat in
my study all day. Of course, I
didn’t write a word. I didn’t try
to write anything. Filbert Wiley
doesn’t interest me. His adventures mean nothing to me.
So how did I spend the day? I looked out of the window all
day. It’s winter now, but it isn’t very cold. Yesterday the sky was,
clear. The sun shone in a blue sky. I looked down at my garden. It
was quiet and empty. The grass was wet. The trees were brown.
Nothing happened all day. I saw only one sign of life: a fat black
cat walked across the grass. It stood under my bedroom window
and looked up at it for a long time. Then it went away very
slowly. I remember that cat very well. I saw it once before. I heard
it in my garden years ago — when my game with Poldy began to
go wrong. The cat didn’t worry me now. It wasn’t important. My
only worry was Poldy.
Perhaps you’re thinking: there’s no need to worry. You can go
away for ever. You don’t have to play games with a ghost. But I
want to play. This game is part of my way of life. It’s forever in my
mind. So I must stay here to the end.
I know you want to hear about last night. But you must give
me time. I need time to get everything in order. Very many things
happened and I want to remember them all.

36
 The sky stayed clear at night. There was a full moon. It was like
a night that I’ve already described in this story. I was glad there
was a full moon. My room was full of light. I didn’t close my
curtains before I went to bed. I had the moon for company.
Perhaps it was midnight when I pulled the plug out. The game
began immediately.
Poldy surprised me at the beginning of the game. He didn’t
begin with a bad game but a good one. I couldn’t believe it! It
was a very long time since our last good game. I was almost happy
while we played. I didn’t realize that this was a joke — an evil joke.
At the beginning of the good game, Poldy gave a clear sign of his
presence. I heard a knock at the other side of the room. Then he
began to walk towards my bed while I tried to find the plug. He
reached my bed. Then he shook it before I put the plug in. He
won. So we began again. I usually want him to win the good
games. But last night he really won. He was quicker than I was.
This didn’t worry me. But then something happened very
suddenly and the good game stopped. My room suddenly became
cold — very, very cold. I don’t know why. My house is always
warm. I began to shake. I hate the cold. It was at this minute that
the good game stopped. I could suddenly feel evil in the air.
I wanted to be warm, so I covered my head with the bed
clothes. I waited. A hand pulled the bed clothes off my bed very
quickly. I sat up and watched. My bed clothes flew across the
room and dropped onto the floor. I ran after them. But when I
tried to reach them, they moved away from me. I think Poldy was
saying, ‘Catch me if you can.’ I understood he wanted to play ‘find
me’ with me.
‘Very well,’ I said loudly. ‘We’ll play “find me”, but please give
me my bed clothes.’ The bed clothes flew onto my bed. ‘Good,’ I
said. ‘Now I’ll count up to ten and you can hide.’ I turned my
head towards the wall and began to count: ‘One, two, three ... I
was counting very slowly. While I was counting, I heard footsteps

37
behind me. I heard all kinds of little noises. Then the room was
quiet. I turned round.
Of course, the room was empty. Poldy was hiding. But where
was he? You can’t hide in many places in my room. You can hide
under the bed, under the chair and in the wardrobe. But Poldy is
a ghost: he can hide anywhere. He can hide inside one of my
pockets!
‘I’m coming to find you, Poldy,’ I said.
I went straight to the wardrobe. I opened the door very slowly.
Before the door was wide open, I put my hand inside the
wardrobe carefully. ‘Perhaps Poldy will bite or hit me,’ I thought.
But he didn’t. I pulled the door wide open. The moonlight shone
into the wardrobe. I could see my clothes inside it. I could see my
shirts, my trousers, my suits and my old coat I could see Julie’s
beautiful dress I touched all my clothes. Nothing. ‘He’s inside my
coat, I thought. I took the coat out of the wardrobe and shook it.
Nothing again. ‘Where are you?’ I shouted. In wild fear, I took my
clothes out one by one and shook them. Then I threw them onto
the bedroom floor. Soon all my clothes were on the floor. Julie’s
party dress was on the floor too.
The wardrobe was empty, but Poldy gave no sign.
‘You’re under the bed!’ I cried. I lay on the floor and went
under the bed. I touched the floor with my hands — but there was
nothing I got up and walked round the room. I looked under the
chair. Nothing. In the end, I sat on the chair and waited. He was
in the room. I could feel that, but I couldn’t find him.
I sat on the chair for a long time. I was sleepy and shut my
eyes. When I opened them, I looked at my bed. This woke me up.
The bed clothes were still there, but there was a shape under
them. It was the shape of a person with bed clothes over his head.
I went quietly towards the bed and touched the bed clothes. The
person moved under them. It moved like someone in his sleep. I
touched them again. The shape threw the bed clothes back. I

38
couldn’t see anyone, but I heard quick footsteps to the other side
of the room. Poldy’s hiding place was under the bed clothes.
‘I’ve caught you!’ I cried. ‘I’ve won! Now it’s my turn to hide.
You must count up to ten and I’ll hide.’
I waited and then I heard a knock from the corner of the
room. ‘He’s counting,’ I thought. One knock, then another and
another. ‘Where can I hide?’ I thought. There was only one place:
under the bed. I went under it very quietly. Then I lay without
moving. The knocks continued. There were ten of them, and
then silence. I held my breath and listened. Complete silence. I
looked across the floor. I could see the clothes that I threw there.
Then the clothes began to move. Someone was picking them up
and throwing them down again one by one. Shirts moved into
the air and fell again. My trousers, my coat and my suits moved up
and fell. Julie’s dress shone in the moonlight: then it moved up
and fell too. Poldy was carefully looking at all my clothes.
Suddenly, Poldy broke the silence. The wardrobe door flew
open. He hit the wardrobe hard. The wardrobe shook. Then it
fell and hit the floor with a loud noise. There was silence again. I
stopped breathing. I heard the ‘wooden leg’ from the other side of
the room. It came towards the bed very slowly. Knock, knock,
knock, nearer and nearer and nearer. I wanted to scream. Poldy
stopped next to my bed I was very cold now and I pulled up my
legs close to my body. Something touched my legs softly. I didn’t
move. Then something touched my face. I felt hot breath on my
face and screamed loudly I tried to move away, but couldn’t. In
my fear, I lay without moving. Then Poldy lifted the bed above
my head and dropped it on top of me. It hit the floor loudly, but
didn’t touch me. Then he lifted it again. It almost touched the top
of the room above me. I looked up at it in fear and it began to
come down very slowly. In fear, I stood up and ran to the other
side of the room. I looked at the bed. It returned to the floor
softly. ‘I must hide somewhere,’ I thought. The wardrobe was on

39
the floor in front of me. I turned it over. Then I climbed inside
it and shut it. I lay there quietly.
Poldy began to knock at the wardrobe door, very quietly at
first, then louder. Suddenly, the door flew open. A strong pair of
hands took hold of me, picked me up and threw me onto the
bed. I screamed and shouted, but I didn’t feel any pain. I got
under the bed clothes and waited.
For the first time I heard Poldy’s ‘voice’. I heard a long evil
laugh. There was something in the voice that I knew. Soon the
room was full of wild laughter.
Stop it! Stop it! Please stop it!’ I cried. The laughter continued
for a long time and then stopped.
There was a very long silence after this. The game of ‘find me’
was at an end. ‘What’s he going to do next?’ I thought. Perhaps
half an hour passed and nothing happened.
Then I heard a strange noise. Someone was scratching. It was
like fingers on glass. Was Poldy scratching the windows? I looked
at them carefully and could see them clearly in the moonlight,
but the sound didn’t come from the windows. ‘There isn’t any
more glass in the room , I thought. But I was wrong. There was
the photo of Julie on the wall! The photo was behind glass. I
listened. The scratching continued. The sound came from the
picture. I looked at the picture carefully. It was a large photo of
Julie’s face. There she was, young and beautiful. She was smiling at
me. In the moonlight, I couldn’t see the details, of course. But I
knew that photo so well! It was easy for me to imagine Julie’s
beautiful face. The scratching stopped and the photo moved off
the wall and flew towards me slowly. Soon it was less than a metre
away from me. I looked into Julie’s eyes and she looked into mine.
‘Is it you, Julie? Are you the ghost? Are you haunting me?’ The
answer to my questions was evil laughter. Julie always laughed
softly, but I heard the sound of her voice in this evil laughter.

40
 Chapter 7 The Truth

I’ve told you the truth in this

story, but I haven’t told you all
the truth. Why? Because I
haven’t been able to tell the
truth to myself, so how could I
tell it to you? I haven’t faced
the truth for twelve years now.
But the time has come to tell
it. Perhaps you already know.
Yes, I killed Julie. But please
believe me. I killed her out of
love, not hate.
Julie loved me and I loved her. I’ve told you that and it’s true.
Julie and I were happy. That’s true too. My friends were jealous of
me. That’s also true. But I haven’t told you one thing: I was jealous
of my friends.
You know a lot about me now. You know I’m not an
interesting person. I don’t go out much. I don’t dance. I haven’t
got many friends. My life is in my books. In our twelve years
together, Julie changed my life. She filled my life with friends and
with laughter. So why did I kill her?
We went out together a lot. Friends often came to our house.
Julie liked company. She liked my company, but she liked other
people’s company too. But I wanted Julie for myself and only for
myself. At parties I was always alone. There were always young
men round Julie. They were always dancing with her. She enjoyed
their company. Of course, Julie was my wife and I was her
husband. But that wasn’t enough for me. I didn’t want Julie to
speak to other men. I didn’t want her to dance with other men. I
wanted her to be with me all the time. When I saw other men
round her, I was always jealous. I couldn’t hide my jealousy. One

41
day I spoke to her about it. I can’t remember our words exactly,
but they were something like this:
‘Put your suit on, William. We’re going out tonight.’
‘I don’t want to go out,’ I answered.
‘Don’t be silly, William. We’re going out.’
‘But I want to stay here,’ I said.
‘You always want to stay at home,’ Julie said. ‘I know you want
to write your books. But we must live too.’
‘But I don’t like to be with so many people,’ I said. ‘I only want
to be with you.’
‘William!’Julie said kindly. ‘You’re jealous.’
I had to agree. ‘I know I am,’ I said.
‘There’s no need to be jealous,’ she said. ‘I love you and you
know it.’
‘Yes, I know it very well.’
‘Your character is different from mine. I need a lot of people
round me,’ Julie said. ‘I can’t be in this house all the time — alone
with you.’
‘I’m afraid I’ll lose you,’ I said.
‘You must never fear that,’ Julie said. ‘You’ll never lose me. I
love you and I’m your wife.’
‘I want you to be my wife forever,’ I said.
‘And I will be,’ Julie answered.
She was telling the truth, but I was still very jealous. In time, I
got more and more jealous. I couldn’t hide it.
Then something happened. I’ve already told you about it. Julie
became ill. She was very, very ill. I called the best doctors. I’ve told
you that and it’s true. ‘Your wife is very ill,’ one of them said to
me. ‘She has a weak heart. She must be careful. People with weak
hearts sometimes die very suddenly.’
I was afraid to lose Julie. I wanted her to live. But I wanted
her to be mine forever. Then an evil idea came into my mind. I
thought: ‘I can kill Julie and she’ll be mine. After that, I’ll never go

42
out and she’ll always be with me.’ I thought about this idea a lot. I
knew I had to kill her. That’s why I’ve never looked for another
wife since Julie. She’s with me all the time: I have her pictures and
I have my memories of her. I’m not jealous now because I don’t
need to be jealous.
One night she lay next to me. She was very ill and was
breathing softly. She was awake and I spoke to her.
‘Julie,’ I said softly. ‘I want you to be mine forever. You love
me and I love you. That’s the secret of our happiness.’
‘Yes, that’s our secret,’ she answered softly.
‘You’ll always stay with me in this house,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she answered.
Then, very softly, I put my pillow over her face and held it
there. I held it there for a long time. She tried to move away, but
she couldn’t. She was very weak. I could hear her cries, but I
didn’t take the pillow away. At last, her heart stopped. She was
dead.
‘That’s our secret,’ I said, when she died. ‘Now you’re mine
forever.’
I phoned the doctor immediately. ‘Julie isn’t breathing very
well,’ I told him. The doctor arrived quickly, but of course, Julie
was dead.
‘I’m sorry to say this, Mr Harris,’ he said, ‘but your wife is dead.
Her heart’s stopped. She died a short time ago. Perhaps she died
in her sleep.’
I cried a lot, but in my heart I was glad. I was glad because Julie
was mine forever.
Today it’s Tuesday, January 25th. I killed my dearest Julie twelve
years ago today, on January 25th, 1988.

44
 Chapter 8 Monday Night Continued

I moved away from my story

because I wanted to tell you
the truth. You think I’m crazy.
Perhaps I am out of my mind.
I’ve lived with this secret for
twelve years now: I’m a
murderer. I murdered my wife.
My house has been haunted
since then.
And last night I realized the
truth for the first time in
twelve years.
The ghost in my bedroom isn’t a playful poltergeist. Its name
isn’t ‘Poldy’. It’s the ghost of my dear wife, Julie. It was a playful
ghost at first. But now it’s jealous and evil — as I was twelve years
ago.
Last night I suddenly saw Julie ‘alive’ again. Her ‘head’ was the
photo; her ‘body’ was the dress. She was dancing round the room.
Oh, she danced very beautifully! Her beautiful dress was shining
in the moonlight I sat in bed and watched her. I forgot about the
evil laughter. I forgot about my fears and worries. I forgot about
our game. I could only think of Julie — ‘alive’ again after all these
years. ‘It’s not possible,’ I said to myself. ‘I can’t believe it.’ Julie
continued to dance and dance. I could hear music in my mind. I
suddenly saw myself at a party. There was noise and laughter in
the room. There were young men all round the room. My Julie
was dancing to the music and the young men were looking at
her. Then they looked at me and laughed. While they were
laughing at me, I became angry and jealous. My mind became full
of evil. ‘Go away!’ I screamed at the young men. ‘Julie is mine,
mine! Can’t you see?’ The young men laughed louder and louder.

45
I became angrier and angrier. I jumped out of bed and ran
towards the dancing ghost. The music continued to play in my
mind. The young men continued to watch me and to laugh at
me. I picked up a chair and hit the young men with it. Then I hit
the dancing ghost. I hit the beautiful dress while it was moving
round the room. Suddenly, the music in my mind stopped. The
dancing stopped. The young men in the room disappeared. Their
faces became shadows — then nothing. Their laughter stopped.
I hit the dress again, not the picture, but just the dress. It shook,
then it fell slowly to the floor. The photo was still at the top of the
dress. The photo and the dress lay on the floor. Julie’s smiling eyes
looked up at me from the floor. ‘They’ve gone,’ I said softly. ‘The
young men have gone. You’re mine again. All mine.’
I stood next to the dress and looked at it for a long time.
Nothing happened: it didn’t move. I touched it. It was real, I
touched the photo. It was real too. Julie’s eyes smiled at me from
behind the glass. ‘I want you to be mine forever,’ I said to the
photo, and I went back to my bed and got a pillow. Then I
returned to the dress on the floor. I put the pillow over the photo
and held it there. I held it there for a long time. The dress tried to
move away but couldn’t. Soft cries came from the photo. In the
end, the dress stopped "moving. I smiled to myself. ‘I’ve murdered
Julie a second time,’ I thought. I laughed loudly.
Suddenly, a great scream came from the photo on the floor.
One scream, then another and another. I jumped back in fear.
The screaming stopped. The photo of Julie began to change. It
wasn’t smiling now. It was crying. I touched the glass on the
photo. It was wet. Then the photo moved away from my hand. I
stood up. The photo began to move off the floor very, very slowly.
It came towards me and stopped in front of my face. Then it fell
to the floor and the glass broke into a thousand pieces. A ‘hand’
began to pull the photo into little pieces. It pulled off the hair, the
eyes, the nose, the mouth. Soon there were little pieces of paper

46
on the floor next to the dress. Then a great wind went through
the room. It threw the dress across the floor. It threw the little
pieces of paper to every part of the room. They fell to the floor
slowly, like snow. Then the wind stopped.
The ghost was still in the room. I could feel it. ‘That’s the end
of the game,’ I thought. ‘I’ll go back to bed and put the plug in.
I’ve had enough of this.’ I picked up the pillow from the floor and
went back to bed.
I was very tired and wanted to sleep. I reached over the side of
die bed to find the plug. ‘I’ll send the ghost away and go to sleep,’
I thought. I touched the plug. But when I touched it, I heard evil
laughter. Then I realized the game wasn’t finished!
The plug moved away from my hand. I tried to find it again.
Every time I touched it, it moved away. I took hold of the cord
and ‘followed’ it with my fingers. Then I found the plug again but
couldn’t pick it up. It moved across the floor. I got out of bed. I
was on my knees on the floor. I could see the plug in the
moonlight. I could see it very clearly. I went towards it on my
knees. When I reached it, it moved away again. The evil laughter
continued. ‘Please Julie,’ I said. ‘Please give me the plug.’ The plug
came towards me and danced in front of my eyes, but I couldn’t
touch it. ‘I’m not going to play now,’ I said. ‘I’m leaving the room.’
I got up and went towards the door.
I tried to open the door but couldn’t. I hit the door hard with
my hands. I pushed and pulled, but I couldn’t open it! I was a
prisoner in my own room. ‘Where can I go? What can I do? I
cried. ‘I’m your prisoner now. I must get out. Please let me out.
Please! Please!’
The evil laughter stopped. The room was silent. Then
something hit the window lightly. After this, I heard a scratching
sound — like fingers on glass. ‘It isn’t the glass over Julie’s photo,’ I
thought. I listened again. The sound was coming from the
window. I went towards it and looked out. There was a face at the

47
window — not Julie’s face or the face of any person. It was the
face of a cat! The cat was looking into my room. It wasn’t the fat
black cat. It was a white cat. ‘I’ve seen this cat before somewhere,’
I thought, ‘but where?’ I tried to think. Suddenly, I remembered.
Of course! It was Julie’s cat. Julie loved animals. She had a cat
like this when she was alive: a beautiful white cat.
When Julie died — I mean, after I murdered her — the cat
disappeared. I never saw it again. But now it was back. I looked
through the window. The cat’s face was against mine. Only the
glass was between us. The cat’s eyes were red and angry. It
scratched the glass wildly. I hit the glass from the inside, but the
cat didn’t go away. It began to cry like a baby. ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ I
screamed.
I ran back to the bedroom door and tried to open it. Again, it
wasn’t possible. The cat continued to cry outside the window. I
suddenly wanted to kill it I looked round the room and tried to
find something. I was really angry. My wardrobe was still on the
floor. There were broken pieces everywhere. I picked up a thick
piece of wood and ran towards the window.
The cat looked at me with its red eyes. It cried louder and
louder. I hit the window hard with the piece of wood. It broke
into a thousand pieces. I laughed. Then I looked through the
broken window, but there was nothing there. No cat, no sound,
nothing! ‘Wonderful,’ I thought. ‘It’s gone away. Perhaps it was
never there. Perhaps I only imagined it. I must stay calm. I’m
imagining things.’
But I wasn’t imagining things. I heard a sound behind me and
jumped. It was the sound of a baby. I turned round in fear and
there it was! The white cat! It was looking up at me and there was
blood on its face! I looked at my hands. There was blood on
them too! I was still holding the piece of wood. ‘So you’re still
alive!’ I screamed at the cat. I ran towards it and tried to hit it
again. I hit the floor hard. I hit the cat over the head. I tried to hit

48
it again, but it wasn’t there. Then it appeared again in another
corner of the room. It was looking at me with its red eyes. I ran
after it and tried to hit it. Every time I tried to do this, the cat
disappeared. Every time it appeared, it was red with blood. Soon
its body was red with blood, but it appeared again and again.
Here! There! In front of me! Behind me! On the floor! On the
bed! In the air! At last, the crying stopped. The cat disappeared
and didn’t come back.
All these things have happened in my mind’, I thought. ‘It was
my imagination, just my imagination. I must keep calm. Now,
what was I doing? Yes. The plug. I was looking for the plug. I
must find it. I’m a prisoner in my own room. The ghost is playing
jokes on me. If I find the plug, I can send it away.’
I got down on my knees to look for the plug. It was still on the
floor next to my bed. I went towards it slowly and quietly like a
cat. The plug was a bird and I was a cat. ‘I’m going to catch you,
little bird,’ I said softly. Nearer and nearer. Then I jumped! The
plug was in my hands. I had it! I had it! ‘Now I must find the
socket.’ I touched the wall with my fingers. The socket. ‘Yes. Here
it is.’ The ghost didn’t pull the plug out of my hands. I put the
plug into the socket and the light came on.
I got into bed and lay back. At last! My room was full of light. I
looked round the room and couldn’t believe my eyes. There
wasn’t any broken glass on the floor. The wardrobe wasn’t on the
floor. The window wasn’t broken. All the things in my room were
in order. The photo of Julie was on the wall. Julie s face was
smiling down at me. The wardrobe was in its place in the corner
of the room. The wardrobe door was shut. I got up and opened it.
My clothes were in the wardrobe. Julie’s dress was there too. My
chair was in its place I went to the bedroom door and tried to
open it. It opened easily. I shut it again.
Then I began to laugh at myself. ‘I imagined all these things,’ I
said. ‘The dance, the cat — they were just my imagination.’ I went

49
back to bed. I looked at my bedside clock. It was 3.30. I sat in bed
for about ten minutes. I was thinking. The light was on, but I
could feel something strange. The ghost was still in the room. The
plug was back in place, but the ghost was still there! ‘It’s broken
the last rule of the game,’ I thought. ‘I’ve put the plug in, but it
hasn’t gone away!’
This thought filled me with fear! All the rules were broken
now. The ghost didn’t disappear when the light came on. I
switched the light off (from the switch), but the ‘evil presence’
was still there. I pulled the plug out and put it back a number of
times, but the ghost stayed in the room. The room was in order
but full of evil.
I switched off the light and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. Then I
tried to sleep with the light on, but I couldn’t. In the end, I
turned the light off and lay in bed. The moon was still shining
brightly. The ghost didn’t play any jokes now: it stayed in my
room quietly. It was ‘there’ all the time. I lay in bed and listened,
but the room was silent. I could hear my heart. I could hear my
own breathing.
I lay in bed for a long time. My eyes were open. I could see
every detail of my room in the moonlight. Suddenly, I heard
heavy breathing. It was coming from a corner of the room. Then
I saw a dark shadow in the corner of the room. It was like a black
cloud. The sound of heavy breathing was coming from the
shadow. The shadow began to move towards me very slowly. I
tried to jump out of bed, but couldn’t move in my fear I lay there
and the thin black cloud came nearer and nearer and nearer. Soon
it was high in the air above my bed. I looked up at it. Then it
began to come down on me. The room was now in complete
darkness. The shadow cut out the moonlight. Soon it was over
me and all round me. I could still hear heavy breathing. I could
feel hot breath on my face: the breath of an evil ghost. I tried to
scream, but couldn’t. I had no breath.

52
 At the same time I could hear another sound. It came from
outside. It was the sound of a cat outside my window. The cat was
crying like a baby.
I lay under the dark shadow. I knew it was the shadow of
death.

53
 Chapter 9 Today is Tuesday

Last night I was in the shadow

of death, but I’m still alive. At
this minute I’m in my study and
I’m writing this story. It’s only
10.00 p.m. but I’m very tired. I
didn’t sleep for a minute last
night.
The shadow didn’t hurt me.
When the morning light came,
the shadow disappeared. I got
up and left my bedroom. The
shadow disappeared, but the
ghost was still in the room. In fact, it’s still there now.
I’m in my study now and the ghost can’t hurt me here (I
hope!). I came to my study at 5.30 this morning. I’ve written this
story since that time. My desk is covered with papers. I’ve been
here for more than sixteen hours and I’m still writing I haven’t
eaten. I haven’t washed and I’m still wearing my night clothes. It’s
cold outside. My night clothes are made of thin cloth — but I can’t
feel the cold. I can only .feel one thing: I’m very, very tired.
I’m near the end of my story. In one long day I’ve tried to
describe my life since Julie’s death. Perhaps you don’t believe that
any of these things happened. Perhaps you think I’m crazy.
Perhaps you’re saying: You’re a murderer and your mind has
punished you. Perhaps you think there was no ghost. It was all in
my mind: I made it all up. If you think any of these things, you’re
wrong. All these things really happened.
My story began with a playful poltergeist and ended with an
evil ghost. At the beginning we played a happy game. But in time
this game became a dangerous one. This game has continued for
twelve years and Julie was my wife for twelve years. The game is

54
like my life with Julie. At the beginning I was happy with her,
but I became jealous of her friends. Then my mind became evil
and I murdered Julie and murdered our life together. I wanted
Julie to be mine and only mine. The same thing happened in the
game. At the beginning it was a happy one. Then the ghost
became jealous. It wanted me to be alone. It became evil and has
tried to kill me.
Now there’s only one question on my mind: will the ghost
murder me?
Just now, I’m trying not to think about this question. I’ll find
out the answer when I go to bed. I don’t want to think about it
now.
But what can I think about? Nothing in my past is important
to me now. Filbert Wiley’s adventures are like a dream. The game
with the ghost has become my life. But I can stop the game and
change my life. There’s one way I can do it I must tell this secret
to someone. Then I know the game will stop. Tomorrow Louis
will be here, but I won’t play chess with him. I’ll tell him this
story. Then I’ll be all right again. What will Louis think when I
tell him the story? I don’t know. The game will end if I tell Louis
the secret. But that’s a big ‘if’. Will I tell Louis my secret? I don’t
know. If I live through the night, then I’ll tell him. If I don’t live,
then my story will be in these papers. Perhaps Louis will find
these papers and publish them. But they aren’t in order! There are
papers all over my desk. There aren’t any numbers on the pages.
I’ve written everything in pencil and it’s hard to read. If Louis
wants to publish these papers, he’ll have to put them in order and
type them again. I think he can sort them out very well. I haven’t
thought of a good title for the book. Perhaps Dangerous Game is a
good title. But my fears are making me crazy. I’m not going to
die. I’ll put the papers in order and publish the book. Louis will
never see these papers.
It’s been a strange day: strange in many ways. I haven’t written

56
a word for a month, but today I’ve written a book. It’s January
25th — twelve years exactly since Julie’s death. We’ve been
together for twenty-four years. What a day it’s been! Yesterday the
sun shone in a clear sky. But today it’s been dark and cloudy — a
real winter’s day. I’ll remember today for a long time.
During the day, while writing, I’ve looked out of the window
a few times. Now it’s dark, of course. But earlier my garden was
empty — no cats or anything like that. But I haven’t had time to
look out of the window very much. My story has been on my
mind all day. I’ve tried to remember every detail. I’ve tried to tell
you every detail.
Try to imagine me at this minute. I’m sitting at my desk. My
desk light is on. I haven’t closed the curtains of my study. The
moon is up and I can see it through my study window. I’m alone
in this big house. The house is dark and silent. My bedroom is at
the other end of the house and sooner or later I must go to it. The
bedroom door is shut, but someone is behind it. I know Julie’s
ghost is in the room. I know the ghost is waiting for me. I’ll go
into an evil world when I go into that room. When you’re afraid,
you look behind you all the time. You don’t like the dark.
Remember when you were a child? My bed was against the wall
when I was a child. I never slept with my face towards the wall. I
was afraid there was ‘something’ behind me. I still have this fear.
Tonight I have to go into my bedroom alone, and perhaps I’ll
never come out of it again alive.
I’ve always been afraid of ghosts. When, as a child, I closed my
curtains, I always looked at them. There were flowers on my
curtain cloth, but I always saw faces in those flowers. Sometimes
they were happy faces, sometimes they were evil faces. When I
turned off the light, I often imagined those faces in the room all
round me. Sometimes I cried and my mother came into the
room. But if I cry tonight, who will come into my room? Who
will say, ‘It’s all right, my dearest. Go to sleep now. You’ve had a

57
bad dream.’? Nobody. I’ll be alone. Alone with Poldy — Julie — the
ghost.
You’ll ask: Why don’t you leave the house? There’s still time.
Don’t stay here. Don’t play the game tonight. But I must play the
game once more. I’m very sleepy, but I’ll wake up I always wake
up when the game begins.
Why don’t I phone Louis? He can come here and stay with me
tonight. I’ll tell you something. I’ve tried to phone Louis a
number of times this evening, but my line is dead. I hear nothing
when I pick up the phone. I’m cut off from the world.
So there’s only one thing that I can do. I must play the game.
What kind of game will it be tonight? I shake when I think about
it. My heart is full of fear. My hand is shaking now while I’m
writing these words. What will happen? I’ll go into the bedroom.
I won’t have to pull out the plug to bring the ghost. The ghost is
there already. I’ll go to bed and the game will begin. But what
kind of game will it be? How will it end?
I know I’m talking too much — writing too much. I haven’t
got any more to tell you. So why am I writing? Because I want
you to be with me. I’m writing because I’m afraid to leave this
study. I’m all right here. But when I stop, I’ll have to go to my
bedroom. I think that time has come now. I must stop now. So I’ll
say ‘goodnight’ to you — or perhaps it’s ‘goodbye’. Perhaps it’s
goodbye — forever.

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 Chapter 10 The End

My name is Louis. I was

William Harris’s friend — as
you already know from his
story. I’ve added this ending to
his book to complete the story.
William died on the night of
January 25th, 2000. I talked to
the police doctor. William died
just before midnight: about an
hour after he went to bed.
Why did William die?
Nobody can explain that. It’s a
mystery like so many things in his story. His life was a mystery
and his death was a mystery too. William had no family and I was
his only friend. The police have asked me many questions about
William. But I haven’t been able to tell them more than what is in
his book. A lot of police officers have read William’s papers. Some
of them believe his story, others don’t, believe it. His death is a
mystery.
I found the pages of Dangerous Game in William’s study on the
night after his death. A few days later, I was able to take the papers
home. All the papers were in the study, exactly as William left
them. There were papers all over the desk and all over the floor.
There were a lot of pencils on the desk too.
I’m writing this ending to William’s story six months after his
death. I’ve just finished my work on his papers. William wrote
Dangerous Game (I think the title is a good one) in one long day.
But I needed six months to read and type his work. There weren’t
any numbers on the pages, so it took a long time to put them in
order. William wrote the book very quickly and the pages were
very hard to read. He didn’t write in complete sentences. So it

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was very hard for me to turn the papers into a real book. I’ve
broken the work into chapters. I hope it’s been easy to read. I’ve
given each chapter a title, but I haven’t added a word to William’s
story and I haven’t cut out anything. It’s just as he wrote it. I’ve
published this story because William wanted me to publish it.
During this time I’ve asked myself many questions about
William. Some of the answers to my questions are in William’s
book, but many aren’t.
For example, I knew William wasn’t well — in his mind, I
mean. There was always something on his mind. I could see this
every time we met. He didn’t eat well and he didn’t sleep well. I
could see this too. During the year before his death, he became
thinner and thinner. He wasn’t interested in food, in his work, in
the chess games that we played. In fact, he wasn’t interested in life.
I’m sure he was interested in something. But this ‘something’ was
a mystery to me. He never told me about it. It was his secret. I
wanted to call a doctor, but he never let me. During the year
before his death, our games of chess were becoming silly. William
never played seriously. He often stopped during a game and
looked up towards the room above. He was trying to hear
something. I once asked him about ‘Poldy’ and he didn’t want to
tell me anything. Do you remember? In his book he says there
was a knocking sound from the room above. Was there really a
knocking sound? I don’t know. I never heard anything.
Was William crazy? Did all these things really happen, or did he
imagine them? I don’t know. I’m sure William had a wonderful
imagination. Perhaps you’ve read his Filbert Wiley stories. If you
have read them, you’ll know a lot about William’s imagination. In
one of these stories (I can’t remember the title) Filbert Wiley is a
prisoner in a haunted house. Perhaps you remember the story. I
thought of it when I read this book. William was a real writer. In
his story William often says he was an ‘uninteresting person’. It’s
true he didn’t have an interesting life. (And what does interesting

60
really mean?) But I’m sure he had an interesting mind. You can
see his mind at work in his detective stories. You can see it at
work in this book.
Did William murder Julie? Another interesting question! It isn’t
possible to say. I’m sure he loved her deeply.
Perhaps William was jealous, but he never showed it. He
described Julie very well in his story. She was a wonderful person.
We all loved her. Of course, she was very different in character
from William. People enjoyed being with her. She was always
laughing and singing. She was very good company. She helped
William a lot. She showed him the world. He enjoyed his life
with Julie. After her death, he became a different person. He cut
himself off from the world. He did nothing except work. In the
end, I was his only friend. That’s because I knew him from our
student days. I knew him before he met Julie. I knew him very
well. But there’s still a lot that I don’t know about him. Did he
murder Julie? I find this hard to believe. But perhaps he did
murder her. One strange fact is true. William died on the date that
Julie died: January 25th, twelve years after her death. I can’t
explain it.
I knew William wasn’t well. I often asked him to leave his
house. I asked him to come and stay with me, but he didn’t want
to leave his own place. Once or twice I offered to stay with him,
but he didn’t want my company. So after our chess games on a
Wednesday, I always went home. We never talked very much
during our games. I know he enjoyed my company. I enjoyed his.
In his story he says he tried to phone me on the night of his
death. He says the line was dead. That’s a mystery too. I used the
phone after I found him. I called the police, and the phone was in
order. Did William imagine it was out of order? Was it really out
of order? If it was, how did this happen?
So either William’s story is true or it isn’t. If it is true, then we
must accept it. William was haunted by an evil, jealous ghost.

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(Whose ghost? I can’t say.) Perhaps the story isn’t true. Then we
must believe that William imagined it all. This means that he was
haunted by his own imagination. In the end, he really went crazy:
he didn’t live in our world. His imagination killed him. This can
happen, of course, but we will never know the answer to the
mystery.
Now I can only describe in detail the night of Wednesday,
January 26th, 2000.
I arrived at William’s house at my usual time: just before eight
o’clock. The house was completely dark and this surprised me.
There was usually a light on somewhere. I knocked at the front
door and waited. There was no reply. This surprised me too.
William usually opened the door immediately. ‘Perhaps he’s gone
out,’ I thought. ‘But no, that’s not possible. He doesn’t often go
out and he’s always at home on a Wednesday. He’s never been out
on a Wednesday.’
I knocked at the door more loudly, but there was still no reply.
I tried to open the front door, but I couldn’t. So I went to the
back door. I knocked at this too and waited. Again, there was no
reply. I tried to open this door too, but couldn’t. I called out
‘William!’ very loudly a number of times. There was no answer. I
threw a few small stones lightly at the windows upstairs. Nobody
came to any of the windows. ‘This is very strange,’ I thought. I
went round the house and looked at all the windows on the
ground floor. They were shut. But in the end, I found a small
window that was open. It was the kitchen window at the back of
the house. I climbed through it (and it wasn’t easy!) and turned
on the kitchen light.
The kitchen was in order. William lived alone, but he was a
very tidy person. The room was clean and tidy. I went straight to
the living room. We always played chess in this room. I turned on
the light. Again, the room was in order. The chess board was on
the table. The chess pieces were in a wooden box next to the

62
board. ‘That’s strange,’ I thought. ‘William usually puts the pieces
on the board before I arrive.’ He’s always ready for a game.
When I noticed this, I began to worry. I began to call out
William’s name louder and louder. The name ‘William’ rang
through the empty house, but there was no reply. I went out of
the living room and stood at the foot of the stairs. I called up the
stairs: ‘William!’ Nobody answered me.
Suddenly, worry became fear — fear for William! What was the
matter? I ran upstairs, three steps at a time, and went straight to
the study. ‘Perhaps he’s still working and hasn’t heard me,’ I
thought. I knocked at the study door and waited. There was no
light under the door. Nobody answered, so I went in. I switched
on the light. The room was very untidy. There were papers on the
desk and on the floor. I didn’t look at the papers at the time. It
wasn’t my business. I write books myself and I don’t like other
people to read my papers! I didn’t know then that those papers
were the pages of this book. They were the pages of the book that
I’ve just finished working on. I discovered this later — when the
police came. The police read William’s story first and after a few
days they gave it to me.
When I left William’s study, I didn’t go straight to his bedroom
for a very simple reason. Don’t forget, it was only just after eight
o’clock. It was too early for anyone to be in bed. I went to every
other room in the house. I was calling his name all the time. In
the end, there was only one more room, the bedroom, and I went
to it.
The bedroom door was shut. I knocked at the door gently and
waited. I knocked again. Nothing. I opened the door very gently:
the room was quite dark. It was very cold in the room, I
remember — but other parts of the house were warm. I began to
shake in William’s room. I don’t know why, but I felt a strange
fear. Was someone in the room? Was someone watching? (Perhaps
I only imagined this!) I touched the wall to find the light switch.

63
But in my fear (my heart was going wildly), I couldn’t find it.
Then I kicked something. I touched it: it was William’s bedside
table. I touched the top of the table and found the bedside light. I
pressed the switch but the light didn’t come on. Then I kicked
something on the floor: it was the plug. I got down on my knees
and found it. ‘Why isn’t it in the socket?’ I thought.
I put the plug into the socket and the light came on. When I
stood up, I looked round the room. I couldn’t believe my eyes! It
was very untidy and in a terrible state. Two windows were broken
and there was glass on the floor. There were clothes on the floor
too — William’s clothes and one of Julie’s party dresses. The
wardrobe was completely broken and there were pieces of wood
on the floor. There were small pieces of paper too. I picked up
one or two pieces. I realized they were part of a photograph. A
cold wind came through the broken windows. I could hear a cat
out in the cold. It was crying like a baby, poor thing!
I wanted to run out of the room, but I had to find William
first. The double bed was against the wall. There was a shape
under the bed clothes. There was a pillow at the top end of the
bed. It was over the head of the person in the bed. I picked the
pillow up very gently. It was right over William’s face. I knew
immediately that he was dead. The face filled me with fear. The
eyes were wide open and the mouth was wide open too. There
were signs of fear in William’s face. The eyes looked up at me:
they looked up in fear.
I put the pillow back over William’s face very gently. I didn’t
want to touch anything before the police arrived. I stood in front
of the body for a long time. I was too afraid to move. The room
was evil, so evil!
While I stood there, I noticed something strange on the pillow.
There was a clear shape on it — like the shape of a hand.

64
65
 ACTIVITIES

Chapters 1-2
Before you read
1 Read the Introduction to the book. What does William Harris do?
Why is the story unusual?
2 Look at the Word List at the back of the book. Find these words.
a Which things are found in a bedroom?
b What do many people not believe in?
c Which word is the name of a game? What is it played on?
3 Discuss these questions with another student.
a Would you like to live in a haunted house? Why (not)?
b Can you play chess? Do you enjoy it? Why (not)?
While you read
4 Circle the right words.
a The poltergeist appears for the first time after/before the death
of William’s wife.
b William enjoys a busy/quiet life.
c Filbert Wiley is a fictional character/William’s friend.
d Poldy appears after William touches a plug/switch.
e Poldy appears once/twice a night.
f Louis knows/does not know about Poldy.
g For the first year, Poldy is noisy/quiet.
h William enjoys/dislikes Poldy’s jokes.
i Poldy wants the bedroom to be light/dark.
After you read
5 Do these words describe William? Why (not)?
a fun-loving e sad
b happy f secretive
c jealous g successful
d popular h lucky
6 How are these important?
a Wednesday evenings d the bedside light
b Filbert Wiley e the knocking sounds
c Julie f William’s shirt and shoe

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7 Work with another student. Have this conversation between William
and Louis.
Student A: You are Louis. You are worried about William. You
think that he should move into another house. Tell
him why.
Student B: You are William. You do not want to move into another
house. Tell Louis why.

Chapters 3-4
Before you read
8 At the end of Chapter 2, William says, ‘But something went wrong,
very wrong.’ What is going to happen next, do you think?
While you read
9 Are these sentences right (/) or wrong (X)?
a William is worried about his new Filbert Wiley story.
b William tells Louis the truth about Poldy.
c Louis cannot hear the knocking sound.
d Louis thinks that William’s life is too quiet.
e Louis wins the game of chess.
f Poldy follows William around the bedroom.
g The coat takes the plug from William.
h William closes the curtain.
i Poldy cries like a baby.
After you read
10 Find the correct endings to these sentences.
a When Louis asks about Poldy, ...
b When William hears a knocking sound, ...
c Louis thinks that
d William can’t close the curtain because ...
1) his face goes white.
2) Poldy is a fictional character.
3) William becomes angry.
4) Poldy is stopping him.

69
11 What do you think? Discuss these questions with another student.
a Does Poldy really exist, or does Poldy exist only in William’s
imagination?
b Louis says to William, ‘You don’t live as a person.’ What does
he mean? Do you agree with him?
c Louis says to William, ‘You’ve really lost the game now.’ What
does he mean? What is William thinking about?

Chapters 5-6
Before you read
12 Look at the picture on pages 32-33. Does it show a ‘good’ game
or a ‘bad’ game? What is happening, do you think?
While you read
13 Number these in the correct order, 1-10.
a Poldy touches William for the first time.
b William’s bedroom becomes unusually cold.
c The picture of Julie moves off the wall.
d Poldy hides in William’s bed.
e The wardrobe falls over.
f William tries to escape from the bad games.
g William hears the sound of laughing.
h William and his bed are lifted off the floor.
i Poldy bites William for the first time.
j William stops writing about Filbert Wiley.
After you read
14 Put the right name in these sentences.
a …. only wants to play bad games now.
b …. sleeps in the study to escape the bad games.
c …. buys all the Filbert Wiley books.
d …. can feel evil in the air.
e …. lifts the wardrobe off the floor.
f ...... ’s laugh sounds like Julie’s.
g …. is afraid now — the games have become dangerous.

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15 Discuss these questions with another student. What do you think?
a Why does Poldy stop playing good games with William?
b Should William see a doctor? Why (not)?
c Who is Poldy? Why does he come back every night?

Chapters 7-8

Before you read

16 William begins the next chapter with the words, ‘I haven’t told you
all the truth.’ What is ‘the truth’, do you think?
While you read
17 Write the missing words.
a When he was married, William never enjoyed going to
…………….. .
b William felt ..................... of Julie’s friends.
c Julie had a weak ...................... .
d William killed Julie with a .................
e Julie died exactly ................ years ago.
f William’s house hasbeen .............. since Julie’s death.
g When Julie’s ghost dances, William imagines a lot of young
..................... in his bedroom.
h The pieces of Julie’s photo are thrown around the room by a
great ....................... .
i When Julie died, her...................... disappeared.
j William knows that the dark ................... in his room is going
to kill him.
After you read
18 How does Julie’s ghost use these to punish William?
a the photo on the wall e the evil laughs
b her dress in the wardrobe f the white cat
c a strange ‘hand’ g a change in the ‘rules’
d a great wind of the game
h a dark shadow

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19 What do you think? Discuss these questions with another student.
a Is Julie right to punish her husband like this? Why (not)?
b William says, ‘I killed her out of love, not hate.’ What does he
mean? Are you sure that he killed her?

Chapters 9-10
Before you read
20 Discuss possible endings to the story with another student.
While you read
21 Choose the correct answer.
a When the morning light comes, the poltergeist
- disappears.
- is waiting in the bedroom.
b William plans to
- tell Louis the truth.
- win at chess against Louis.
c William tries unsuccessfully to
- leave the house.
- telephone Louis.
d Louis is sure that William
- murdered his wife.
- wasn’t well.
e Louis begins to worry when he sees
- the chess pieces in their wooden box.
- the tidy kitchen.
f Louis finds William’s body in the
- study.
- bedroom.
After you read
22 Work with another student. Have this conversation between
Louis and a police officer.
Student A: You are Louis. A police officer has just arrived at
William’s house. Tell him/her what you found. Answer
the police officer’s questions.

72
 Student B: You are the police officer. Ask Louis what he knows
about William’s death. Ask about William’s health, his
life and his feelings.
23 What really happened? Why did William die? Discuss your ideas
with another student.
Writing
24 Imagine that you are a police officer. Write a full report about
William’s death. Was he murdered? Why (not)?
25 Write about William’s life and death for a writers’ magazine.
26 Julie was your best friend. She wrote to you just before her death.
What did she say? Was she well? Was she happy? What did she
say about William? Write her letter.
27 William says that he is not an interesting person. Do you agree?
Why (not)?
28 Imagine that you are Louis. Write a letter to a friend in Australia.
Explain what has happened. Tell the story, and your feelings about
it.
29 Imagine that William does not die. He tells Louis the complete truth
at last. What does he say about Julie? What does he say about her
death? What does he say about Poldy? Write the conversation.
30 Louis was a very polite man. Was he too polite? Is a good friend
always very polite?
31 Do you know any stories like this? Write a ghost story for other
people in your class to read.

Answers for the Activities in this book are available from the Penguin Readers website.
A free Activity Worksheet is also available from the website. Activity Worksheets are
part of the Penguin Teacher Support Programme, which also includes Progress Tests
and Graded Reader Guidelines. For more information, please visit:
www.penguinreaders.com.

73
 WORD LIST

appear (v) to arrive in a place and be seen

board (n) a square flat piece of wood (for example) that you play chess
on
breath (n) the air that comes out of your mouth. When you take the air
in and out, you breathe.
character (n) a person in a play, book or film; everything about a person
that makes them different from other people
chess (n) a game of skill for two players. You win when the other
person can’t move his ‘king’.
cord (n) something long and thin that goes from a piece of electrical
equipment to the wall
curtain (n) a piece of hanging cloth that is pulled across a window
detail (n) a small fact which is usually not of great importance
evil (n/adj) everything that is very bad and can hurt you
ghost (n) a dead person who, some people believe, has returned to
Earth
haunt (v) to visit a place often from a world after death
jealous (adj) feeling angry or unhappy because another person has
something nice
pillow (n) the soft thing that your head rests on in bed
plug (n) the thing on a piece of electrical equipment that you push into
a wall
poltergeist (n) a ghost that moves things around, with strange noises
publish (v) to print a book or magazine (for example), so people can
buy it
scratch (v) to move something sharp across something hard, often
making a small cut
socket (n) a box on a wall with holes in it for the plug of a piece of
electrical equipment
truth (n) the true facts
wardrobe (n) a large cupboard which you can hang clothes in

74