'There’s something down there!’ I said. Instantly the steps began again, circled the dining-room table like a man running, and started up the stairs towards us, heavily, two at a time. The light still shone palely down the stairs; we saw nothing coming; we only heard the steps. Herman rushed to his room and slammed the door. I slammed shut the door at the stairs top and held my knee against it. After a long minute, I slowly opened it again. There was nothing there. There was no sound. None of us ever heard the ghost again.
The light still shined dimly down the stairwell; nevertheless, they could see nothing and could only hear the footsteps. Herman, by then, had realised that his brother was right. Convinced that it was a ghost, and out of fear, the boys ran. Herman sprang to his room and slammed the door behind him. The narrator shut the top stair door and pressed his knee against it. (Some sources say that the narrator ran to the bathroom to hide.*) After about a minute, he cautiously opened the door. To the better or worse, he saw nothing. There was silence and no sign of a figure or sound of footsteps. The ghost has mysteriously vanished. The narrator observes that neither he nor his family had seen or heard the ghost again.
|Slam||To shut (a door, window, or lid) forcefully and loudly|