Agatha Weaver had been hearing distant voices recently and they were coming from the spare guest room which her live-in fiance Derek Nelson kept locked all day. The accent sounded French.  At first she thought she may be imagining them, but when they started getting louder and more clearer, she grew concerned.  She leaned against the door with her right ear leaning on a glass against it. 

     “Ello’ my darling.  I luv the coleur of yeur hair, they are liek waves brushing against the sea an’ yeur eyes are mesmerising liek goblets of wine.  Muah muah!” 

     “Right, I’ve had enough.”  She said to herself and knocked firmly at the door.  “Come out, you casanova, or else I’m calling the police right now.”  “You’ve got no right to break into my house and lock yourself in my guestroom!”  There was no reply.  Moments later, her fiance appeared from behind her.  He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss on her left cheek.  The glass fell and smashed on the floor as she placed her hand on her heart.

     “Hello Agatha.  I see you’re leaning on the door again.  Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve been hearing those French voices again.”  Agathe turned around and gazed him in his eyes.   

     “I told you not to sneak up from behind me like that.  It’s bad enough that we have an intruder in our guestroom.”  He looked at her with a quizzical look.

     “I knew it.  It’s the same old story.  Man suspects woman of imagining things.  But this is real life.  I swear to you, there is someone in that room.  Derek smiled and ushered her aside and then turned the handle.

     “It’s no use, it’s lock…”  Derek produced the door keys and swung it open.  He then acompanied her inside and they both began to search around the room from corner to corner. 

    “Satisfied?”  Asked Derek.

     “Absolutely not.  I heard what I heard and that’s that.”  She folded her arms, sulking.  Derek shrugged and said.  “Oh well, I’ll be on stand-by in the living room, in case you hear anything.”