A minute or two later Mrs. van Daan came up from where she'd been listening to the radio
and told us that Pim had asked her to turn it off and tiptoe upstairs.
But you know what happens when you're trying to be quiet -- the old stairs creaked twice as loud.
Five minutes later Peter and Pim, the color drained from their faces, appeared again to relate their experiences.
They had positioned themselves under the staircase and waited. Nothing happened.
Then all of a sudden they heard a couple of bangs, as if two doors had been slammed shut inside the house.
Pim bounded up the stairs, while Peter went to warn Dussel, who finally presented himself upstairs,
though not without kicking up a fuss and making a lot of noise.
Then we all tiptoed in our stockinged feet to the van Daans on the next floor.
Mr. van D. had a bad cold and had already gone to bed, so we gathered around his bedside and discussed our suspicions in a whisper.
Every time Mr. van D. coughed loudly, Mrs. van D. and I nearly had a nervous fit.
He kept coughing until someone came up with the bright idea of giving him codeine.
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