Father, pale and nervous, came inside, followed by Mr. van Daan.
“Lights out, tiptoe upstairs, we're expecting the police!” There wasn't time to be scared.
The lights were switched off, I grabbed a jacket, and we sat down upstairs.
“What happened? Tell us quickly!” There was no one to tell us; the men had gone back downstairs.
The four of them didn't come back up until ten past ten. Two of them kept watch at Peter's open window.
The door to the landing was locked, the bookcase shut. We draped a sweater over our night-light,
and then they told us what had happened: Peter was on the landing when he heard two loud bangs.
He went downstairs and saw that a large panel was missing from the left half of the warehouse door.
He dashed upstairs, alerted the “Home Guard,” and the four of them went downstairs.
When they entered the warehouse, the burglars were going about their business.
Without thinking, Mr. van Daan yelled “Police!” Hurried footsteps outside; the burglars had fled.
The board was put back in the door so the police wouldn't notice the gap,
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