On the way back Jan happened to run into Mr. van Hoeven, the man who supplies us with potatoes, and told him of the break-in.
“I know,” Mr. van Hoeven calmly replied. “Last night when my wife and I were walking past your building, I saw a gap in the door.
My wife wanted to walk on, but I peeked inside with a flashlight, and that's when the burglars must have run off.
To be on the safe side, I didn't call the police. I thought it wouldn't be wise in your case.
I don't know anything, but I have my suspicions.”
Jan thanked him and went on. Mr. van Hoeven obviously suspects we're here, because he always delivers the potatoes at lunchtime. A decent man!
It was one o'clock by the time Jan left and we'd done the dishes. All eight of us went to bed.
I woke up at quarter to three and saw that Mr. Dussel was already up.
My face rumpled with sleep, I happened to run into Peter in the bathroom, just after he'd come downstairs.
We agreed to meet in the office. I freshened up a bit and went down. “After all this, do you still dare go to the front attic?” he asked.
I nodded, grabbed my pillow, with a cloth wrapped around it, and we went up together.
The weather was gorgeous, and even though the air-raid sirens soon began to wail, we stayed where we were.
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