by Nevil Shute
The German did not answer him. He spoke in his own language to the sentry, and they took Howard back to the prison room.
11
NICOLE GREETED HIM with relief. She had spent an hour of unbearable anxiety, tortured by the thought of what might be happening to him, pestered by the children. She said, “What happened?”
He said wearily, “The young man, Charenton, was shot. Then they questioned me a lot more.”
She said gently, “Sit down, and rest. They will bring us coffee before very long. You will feel better after that.”
He sat down on his rolled-up mattress. “Nicole,” he said. “I believe there is a chance that they might let the children go to England without me. If so, would you take them?”
She said, “Me? To go alone to England with the children? I do not think that that would be a good thing, Monsieur Howard.”
“I would like you to go, if it were possible.”
She came and sat by him. “Is it for the children that you want this, or for me?” she asked.
He could not answer that. “For both,” he said at last.
With clear logic she said, “In England there will be many people, friends of yours and the relations of the English children, who will care for them. You have only to write a letter, and send it with them if they have to go without you. But for me, I have told you, I have no business in England — now. My country is this country, and my parents are here, and in trouble. It is here that I must stay.”
He nodded ruefully. “I was afraid that you would feel like that.”
Half an hour later the door of their room was thrust open, and two German privates appeared outside. They were carrying a table. With some difficulty they got it through the door and set it up in the middle of the room. Then they brought in eight chairs, and set them with mathematical exactitude around the table.
Nicole and Howard watched this with surprise. They had eaten all their meals since they had been in captivity from plates balanced in their hands, helped from a bowl that stood upon the floor. This was something different in their treatment, something strange and suspicious.
The soldiers withdrew. Presently the door opened again, and in walked a little French waiter balancing a tray, evidently from some neighbouring café. A German soldier followed him and stood over him in menacing silence. The man, evidently frightened, spread a cloth upon the table and set out cups and saucers, a large pot of hot coffee and a jug of hot milk, new rolls, butter, sugar, jam, and a plate of cut rounds of sausage. Then he withdrew quickly, in evident relief. Impassively the German soldier shut the door on them again.
The children crowded round the table, eager. Howard and Nicole helped them into their chairs and set to work to feed them. The girl glanced at the old man.
“This is a great change,” she said quietly. “I do not understand why they are doing this.”
He shook his head. He did not understand it either. Lurking in his mind was a thought that he did not speak, that this was a new trick to win him into some admission. They had failed with fear; now they would try persuasion.
The children cleared the table of all that was on it, and got down, satisfied. A quarter of an hour later the little waiter reappeared, still under guard; he gathered up the cloth and cleared the table, and retired again in silence. But the door did not close.
One of the sentries came to it and said, “Sie können im Garten gehen.” With difficulty Howard understood this to mean that they might go in to the garden.
There was a small garden behind the house, completely surrounded by a high brick wall, not unlike another garden that the old man had seen earlier in the day. The children rushed out into it with a carillon of shrill cries; a day of close confinement had been a grave trial to them. Howard followed with Nicole, wondering.
It was another brilliant, sunlit day, already growing hot. Presently two German soldiers appeared carrying armchairs. These two chairs they set with mathematical exactitude precisely in the middle of a patch of shade beneath a tree. “Setzen Sie,” they said.
Nicole and Howard sat down side by side, self-consciously, in silence. The soldiers withdrew, and a sentry with a rifle and a fixed bayonet appeared at the only exit from the garden. There he grounded his rifle and stood at ease, motionless and expressionless. There was something sinister about all these developments.
Nicole said, “Why are they doing this for us, monsieur? What do they hope to gain by it?”
He said, “I do not know. Once, this morning, I thought perhaps that they were going to let us go — or at any rate, let the children go to England. But even that would be no reason for giving us armchairs in the shade.”
She said quietly, “It is a trap. They want something from us; therefore they try to please us.”
He nodded. “Still,” he said, “it is more pleasant here than in that room.”
Marjan, the little Pole, was as suspicious as they were. He sat aside upon the grass in sullen silence; since they had been taken prisoner he had barely spoken one word. Rose, too, was ill at ease; she wandered round the garden, peering at the high walls as if looking for a means to escape. The younger children were untouched; Ronnie and Pierre and Willem and Sheila played little games around the garden or stood, finger in mouth, looking at the German sentry.
Presently Nicole, looking around, saw that the old man was asleep in his armchair.
They spent the whole day in the garden, only going back into their prison room for meals. Déjeuner and dîner were served in the same way by the same silent little waiter under guard; good, plentiful meals well cooked and attractively served. After dinner the German soldiers removed the table and the chairs, and indicated that they might lay out their beds. They did so, and put all the children down to sleep.
Presently Howard and Nicole went to bed themselves.
The old man had slept only for an hour when the door was thrust open by a German soldier. He bent and shook the old man by the shoulder. “Kommen Sie,” he said. “Schnell — zur Gestapo.”
Howard got up wearily, and put on his coat and shoes in the darkness. From her bed Nicole said, “What is it? Can I come, too?”
He said, “I don’t think so, my dear. It’s just me that they want.”
She expostulated, “But what a time to choose!”
The German soldier made a gesture of impatience. Howard said, “Don’t worry. It’s probably another interrogation.”
He was hustled away, and the door closed behind him. In the dark room the girl got up and put on her skirt, and sat waiting in the darkness, sitting on her bed among the sleeping children, full of forebodings.
Howard was taken to the room in which they had first been interviewed. The Gestapo officer, Major Diessen, was there sitting at the table. An empty coffee cup stood beside him, and the room was full of his cigar smoke. The German soldier who brought Howard in saluted stiffly. The officer spoke a word to him, and he withdrew, closing the door behind him. Howard was left alone in the room with Major Diessen.
He glanced at the clock. It was a little after midnight. The windows had been covered over with blankets for a blackout.
Presently the German looked up at the old man standing by the wall. “So,” he said. “The Englishman again.” He opened a drawer beside him and took out a large, black automatic pistol. He slipped out the clip and examined it; then put it back again and pulled the breech to load it. He laid it on the blotting pad in front of him. “We are alone,” he said. “I am not taking any chances, as you see.”
The old man smiled faintly. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
The German said, “Perhaps not. But you have much to fear from me.”
There was a little silence. Presently he said, “Suppose I were to let you go to England after all? What would you think then, eh?”
The old man’s heart leaped, and then steadied again. It was probably a trap. “I should be very grateful, if you let me take the children,” he said quietly.
“And
Mademoiselle, too?”
He shook his head. “She does not want to come. She wants to stay in France.”
The German nodded. “That is what we also want.” He paused, and then said, “You say that you would be grateful. We will see now if that is just an empty boast. If I were to let you go to England with your children so that you could send them to America, would you do me a small service?”
Howard said, “It depends what it was.”
The Gestapo man flared out. “Bargaining! Always the same, you English! One tries to help you, and you start chaffering! You are in no position to drive bargains, Mr. Englishman!”
The old man persisted, “I must know what you want me to do.”
The German said, “It is a matter of no difficulty. . . .”
There was a short pause.
His hand strayed to the black automatic on the desk before him, and began fingering it. “There is a certain person to be taken to America,” he said deliberately. “I do not want to advertise her journey. It would be very suitable that she should travel with your party of children.”
The gun was now in his hand, openly.
Howard stared at him across the table. “If you mean that you want to use my party as a cover for an agent going to America,” he said, “I will not have it.”
He saw the forefinger snap round the trigger. He raised his eyes to the German’s face and saw it white with anger. For a full half minute they remained motionless, staring at each other.
The Gestapo officer was the first to relax. “You would drive me mad,” he said bitterly. “You are a stubborn and obstinate people. You refuse the hand of friendship. You are suspicious of everything we do.”
Howard was silent. There was no point in saying more than was necessary. It would not help.
“Listen to me,” the German said, “and try to get this into your thick head. This is not an agent who is travelling to America. This is a little girl.”
“A little girl?”
“A little girl, of five years old. The daughter of my brother, who has been killed.”
The gun was firmly in his hand, resting upon the desk but pointing in the direction of the old man.
Howard said, “Let me understand this fully. This is a little German girl that you want me to take to America, with all the other children?”
“That is so.”
“Who is she, and where is she going?”
The German said, “I have told you who she is. She is the daughter of my brother Karl. Her name is Anna Diessen, and at present she is in Paris.”
He hesitated for a minute. “You must understand,” he said, “that there were three of us. My oldest brother Rupert fought in the World War, and then went to America. He now has a business, what you would call a grocery, in White Falls. He is an American citizen now.”
“I see,” said Howard thoughtfully.
“My brother Karl was Oberleutnant in the 4th Regiment Tanks, in the Second Panzer Division. He was married some years ago, but the marriage was not a success.” He hesitated for a moment and then said quickly, “The girl was not wholly Aryan, and that never works. There was trouble, and she died. And now Karl, too, is dead.”
He sat brooding for a minute. Howard said gently, “I am very sorry.” And he was.
Diessen said sullenly, “It was English treachery that killed him. He was driving the English before him, from Amiens to the coast. There was a road cluttered up with refugees, and he was clearing it with his guns to get his tank through. And hiding in amongst these refugees were English soldiers that Karl did not see, and they threw bottles of oil on top of his cupola so they dripped down inside, and then they threw a flame to set the oil alight. My brother threw the hatch up to get out, and the English shot him down before he could surrender. But he had already surrendered, and they knew it. No man could go on fighting in a blazing tank.”
Howard was silent.
Diessen said, “So there is Anna who must be provided for. I think it will be better if she goes to live with Rupert in America.”
The old man said, “She is five years old?”
“Five and a half years.”
Howard said, “Well, I should be very glad to take her.”
The German stared at him thoughtfully. “How quickly after you reach England will the children go? How many of them are you sending to America? All of them?”
Howard shook his head. “I doubt that. Three of them will certainly be going, but of the six two are English and one is a French girl with a father in London. I don’t suppose that they would want to go — they might. But I shall send the other three within a week. That is, if you let us go.”
The German nodded. “You must not wait longer. In six weeks we shall be in London.”
There was a silence. “I do not want that you should think I am not confident about the outcome of this war,” Diessen said. “We shall conquer England, as we have conquered France; you cannot stand against us. But for many years there will be war with your Dominions, and while that is going on there will be not much food for children, here or in Germany. It will be better that little Anna should be in a neutral country.”
Howard nodded. “Well, she can go with my lot if you like to send her.”
The Gestapo officer eyed him narrowly. “There must be no trickery. Remember, we shall have Mademoiselle Rougeron. She may return to Chartres and live with her mother, but until I have a cable from my brother Rupert that little Anna is safe with him, we shall have our eye on Mademoiselle.”
“As a hostage,” said the old man quietly.
“As a hostage.” The German stared at him arrogantly. “And another thing, also. If any word of this appears, it is the concentration camp for your young lady. I will not have you spreading lies about me as soon as you reach England. Remember that.”
Howard thought quickly. “That has another side to it,” he said. “If Mademoiselle Rougeron gets into trouble with the Gestapo and I should hear of it in England, this story shall be published in my country and quoted in the German news upon the radio, mentioning you by name.”
Diessen said furiously, “You dare to threaten me!”
The old man smiled faintly. “Let us call off this talk of threats,” he said. “We are in each other’s hands, and I will make a bargain with you. I will take your little girl and she shall travel safely to White Falls, even if I have to send her by the Clipper. On your side, you will look after Mademoiselle Rougeron and see that she comes to no harm. That is a bargain that will suit us both, and we can part as friends.”
The German stared at him for a long time. “So,” he said at last. “You are clever, Mr. Englishman. You have gained all that you want.”
“So have you,” the old man said.
The German released the automatic and reached out for a slip of paper. “What address have you in England? I shall send for you when we visit London in August.”
They settled to the details of the arrangement. A quarter of an hour later, the German got up from the table. “No word of this to any one,” he said again. “To-morrow in the evening you will be moved from here.”
Howard shook his head. “I shall not talk. But I would like you to know one thing. I should have been glad to take your little girl with me in any case. It never entered my head to refuse to take her.”
The German nodded. “That is good,” he said. “If you had refused I should have shot you dead. You would have been too dangerous to leave this room alive.”
He bowed stiffly. “Auf Wiedersehen,” he said ironically. He pressed a button on his desk; the door opened and the sentry took Howard back through the quiet, moonlit streets to his prison.
Nicole was sitting on her bed, waiting for him. As the door closed she came to him and said, “What happened? Did they hurt you?”
He patted her on the shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said. “They did nothing to me.”
“What happened, then? What did they want you for?”
He sat down on
the bed, and she came and sat down opposite him. The moon threw a long shaft of silver light in through the window; faintly, somewhere, they heard the droning of a bomber.
“Listen, Nicole,” he said. “I can’t tell you what has happened. But I can tell you this, and you must try to forget what I am telling you. Everything is going to be all right. We shall go to England very soon, all of the children — and I shall go too. And you will go free, and travel back to Chartres to live with your mother, and you will have no trouble from the Gestapo. That is what is going to happen.”
She said breathlessly, “But — I do not understand. How has this been arranged?”
He said, “I cannot tell you that. I cannot tell you any more, Nicole. But that is what will happen, very soon.”
“You are not tired, or ill? This is all true, but you must not tell me how it has been done?”
He nodded. “We shall go to-morrow or the next day,” he replied. There was a steady confidence in his tone which brought conviction to her.
“I am very, very happy,” she said quietly.
There was a long silence. Presently she said, “Sitting here in the darkness while you were away, I have been thinking, monsieur.” In the dim light he could see that she was looking away from him. “I was wondering what these children would grow up to be when they were old. Ronnie — I think he will become an engineer, and Marjan a soldier, and Willem — he will be a lawyer or a doctor. And Rose will be a mother certainly, and Sheila — she may be a mother too, or she may become one of your English women of business. And little Pierre — do you know what I think of him? I think that he will be an artist of some sort, who will lead many other men with his ideas.”
“I think that’s very likely,” said the old man.
The girl went on. “Ever since John was killed, monsieur, I have been desolate,” she said quietly. “It seemed to me that there was no goodness in the world, that everything had gone mad and crazy and foul — that God had died or gone away, and left the world to Hitler. Even these little children were to go on suffering.”