Hi and I'm

Hi and welcome back to nighty night

Bedtime stories to keep you awake. My name is Robia Chaudhary and I'm your host. Last week we shared

part one of F Marion Crawford's most famous horror story, The Upper Birth.

And this week we returned to the story for part two as it reaches its terrifying

conclusion. Enjoy the upper birth. We played Wist in the evening and I went to bed late. I will confess now that I felt a disagreeable sensation when I entered my state room.

I could not help thinking of the tall man I had seen on the previous night who was now

dead.

Drowned, tossing about in the long swell two or three hundred miles astern.

His face rose very distinctly before me as I undressed, and I even went so far as to draw back

the curtains of the upper birth as though to persuade myself that he was actually gone.

I also bolted the door of the State Room.

Suddenly I became aware that the porthole was open and fastened back.

This was more than I could stand.

I hastily threw on my dressing gown and went in search of Robert, the steward of my passage.

I was very angry, I remember, and when I found him I dragged him roughly to the door of 105 and

pushed him towards the open porthole.

What the deuce do you mean, you scoundrel, by leaving that port open every night?

Don't you know it is against the regulations?

Don't you know that if the ship healed and the water began to come in?

Ten men could not shut it? I will report you to the

captain, you Blackguard, for endangering the ship. I was exceedingly Roth.

...