He stood at the top of the ladder

The coachman shut his book. “The worst thing is that he doesn’t understand that he can’t do this. I can’t remember all the times I told his departed father, “Don’t give Töreby to Henrik” I would say, “He will never be the kind of master the Old Father wants. Leave it to his brother, who is decent and serious, and leave Master Henrik an estate which doesn’t carry this responsibility.” “Yes, well, now Töreby won’t go to either Mr Henrik or Mr August. Now it will go to that Captain Duwe, until he gambles it away to someone else. The coachman stood up decisively. It was obvious that he meant to go and talk to the lord of the manor, But when he lifted his taper, it came into a position where it illuminated the square trapdoor through which he would climb down to the stables; and now both the coachman and the housekeeper say that there was a a house troll on the ladder which rose through the opening. He stood on the top rung of the ladder; he was short and grey, and wore knee breeches and a grey jacket with silver buttons. He listened in such shock and bewilderment that he seemed to have been frozen to the spot. The coachman and the housekeeper dropped their eyes at once. Neither of them allowed their expression or manner to betray that they had seen the house troll. “Yes, I think the best thing is for us old people to go to bed”, said the coachman in a tone he tried to keep unconcerned. You know that on this estate we don’t have to wait up in case of accidents. Here, there is always someone who watches over things. “Yes, you are right. There is someone here who watches over us.” said the housekeeper humbly. Without another word, she took her lantern from the floor, crept out through the side door, and disappeared down the staircase. When the old woman returned to the house, she had made her mind up to go to bed at once, since there was nothing the house troll could less easily forgive than people sitting up at night without cause.