Now the steps had stopped moving, and began to curl and wind in the most vexing manner. Round and round they went, and round and round went George, until he was quite giddy.
"These stairs are always coming back to the same place, I declare!" he thought. "This will never do. I shall go on climbing until this time next year, and oh, shan't I be tired!"
Again he repeated the charm, and the stairs became straight as a straight line. Up and up he went. Would they never end?
He was at the top and standing before a door which was closed. He turned the handle; he pushed and pushed.... He seemed to hear somebody laughing, and laughing in a very disagreeable, ill-tempered way. It sounded as if it came from inside the room, or whatever it was behind the door. George became very angry. He just hated anybody laughing at him. He would show them what he could do!
He must remember to say the charm sooner next time. But it was so difficult to remember anything in this queer place!
Where was he now? There seemed to be faces—thousands of faces—peeping at him from every side, from every hole, and from every corner.
Where had he seen these faces before? He couldn't tell, and yet he knew them.... Why, of course! They were the reflections of his own face in mirrors, hundreds and thousands of mirrors! How very strange it looked! Well, there was nothing to be afraid of.