The signalman explained to me that every signal had to be written down, with the exact time. Even during the quietest hours of the night, he had to remain watching.
As he spoke, the bell rang sharply .
He stopped mid-sentence, moved quickly to the wall, and rang back without hesitation . Then he returned to the desk and carefully wrote the time and signal in his book.
‘You see?’ he said. ‘ Accuracy is everything. A single mistake can have serious consequences .’
We continued talking, but twice he suddenly stopped, his face turning pale . Each time, he opened the door and stared towards the tunnel, though the bell had not rung.
‘Did you hear something?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘But I thought I might.’
When I stood to leave, I said, ‘You sound like a man who once took pride in his work.’
‘I did,’ he replied quietly. ‘Before the trouble started.’
I returned the following night, exactly as arranged . I did not call out. He was waiting for me, holding his white light steady.
‘I’m glad you came back,’ he said. ‘I need to talk this over with somebody .’
We sat by the fire, and he leaned forward, speaking in a low voice.
‘One night,’ he began, ‘I was sitting here alone when I heard a voice cry, ‘Hallo! Below there!’’
Without wanting to, I shivered .
‘I went to the door,’ he said, ‘and I saw a figure near the danger light. One arm was waving wildly , as if in warning. The other arm was held across the face.’
‘What did you do?’ I asked.
‘I ran towards it,’ he said. ‘I believed an accident had happened.’
‘And then?’
‘It disappeared.’
He told me that within hours, there was a terrible accident on the line. Trains were stopped. People were injured. Some were killed.
‘I told myself it was a coincidence ,’ he continued. ‘But months later, the figure returned. It said nothing. It stood with both hands before its face, like someone in deep sadness .’
‘And that same day—’ I said.
‘A young woman died on a passing train,’ he finished.
I tried to convince him of my point of view . I spoke of stress, imagination, and long hours alone.
‘I wish I could accept that,’ he said. ‘But the figure keeps coming back.’
‘How often?’ I asked.
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23 min