Джеймс Чейз - The Mirror in Room 22 [short story]

Hopkins stared at him. “It’s a wonder you didn’t cut yourself,” he said seriously.

The wing commander nodded. “I use a safety razor,” he said. “Otherwise I might have met with a serious accident — especially if I used an old-fashioned cut-throat.”

“Like I do,” Hopkins said thoughtfully. “H’m... well, I think we all ought to have a drink after that.”

Someone else started a ghost story, and after a little while Hopkins slipped from the ante-room for a few minutes. When he returned he seemed somewhat relieved, and joined in the conversation in his usual noisy fashion.

Later the group of officers broke up, and the wing commander and the CO were the last to retire.

“You’re fixed up all right?” the CO asked, as he was leaving to go to his own little cottage across the way.

The wing commander smiled. “I think so,” he said, and beckoned to the airman who was waiting with his luggage. “Has Flight Lieutenant Hopkins moved his things from Room Twenty-two yet?”

The airmen nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “It’s all ready for you.”

“Good, then take up my bag, will you?” The wing commander turned to the CO. “I always believe in taking a little trouble to secure the best room, don’t you? I wouldn’t feel happy to stay here and not be in my old room. After all, Hopkins can have it back when I’ve gone. Good night. I hope my little story won’t disturb your dreams. It certainly won’t disturb mine.”

And still smiling, the wing commander followed the airman up the broad staircase.