021- Confession

In a London fog, uncertain whether the figures looming around you are real or creatures of your imagination, and somewhere in the wet-grainers lurks a murderer, from whom you must escape. Escape, produced and directed by William N. Robson, and carefully contrived to free you from the poor walls of today, for a half hour of high adventure.

Tonight, we escaped to a fog-shrouded city, and the terror of a shell-shark mine, as Elgin and Blackwood describes them in his ghostly story... Confession. There was no doubt about it. The woman was dead. Her cheek was cold in my touch.

The head of the long, sharp hat pen protruded from her breast above the heart. She was dead, murdered. And I stood there by the bed, my brain whirling crazily. I was alone at an empty house with a murdered woman, and then suddenly, fear flashed across my brain and cleared it.

I heard the door below open and close. Footsteps, someone was coming across the downstairs hall, onto the stairs, coming up, up here. In a moment, I would be discovered. In a moment, someone would walk into this room and see me standing over the body.

In a moment my escape would be cut off. Quickly I slipped across the hall and into another of the empty bedrooms. I leaned against the closed door, breathing heavily. Listening to those steps come closer.

Would he look into any of the other bedrooms first? Would I be discovered here? He passed my door and went into the room, straightened, closed the door behind him. Then he knew where to come.

I waited a moment, waited for some sound, some gas but discovery. There was none that he knew what to expect. I must escape quickly before he came out of that room. I started down the stairs, carefully, to avoid any sound.