Nicole plucked his arm. 'Tell also who the children are and where they came from,' she said urgently.
The old man paused to collect his thoughts. It was impossible for him, at his age, to compress his story into three minutes; his mind moved too slowly. 'I came to France from England in the middle of April,' he said. 'I stayed a night or two in Paris, and then I went on and stayed a night in Dijon. You see, I had arranged to go to a place called Cidoton in the Jura, for a little fishing holiday.'
The Gestapo officer sat up suddenly, galvanised into life. 'What sort of fish?' he barked. 'Answer me - quick!'
Howard stared at him. 'Blue trout,' he said. 'Sometimes you get a grayling, but they aren't very common.'
'And what tackle to catch them with - quickly!'
The old man stared at him, nonplussed, not knowing where to start. 'Well,' he said, 'you need a nine-foot cast, but the stream is usually very strong, so 3X is fine enough. Of course, it's all fishing wet, you understand.'
The German relaxed. 'And what flies do you use?'
A faint pleasure came to the old man. 'Well,' he said with relish, 'a Dark Olive gets them as well as anything, or a large Blue Dun. I got one or two on a thing called a Jungle Cock, but -'
The German interrupted him. 'Go on with your story,' he said rudely. 'I have no time to listen to your fishing exploits.'
Howard plunged into his tale, compressing it as much as seemed possible to him. The two German officers listened with growing attention and with growing incredulity. In ten minutes or so the old man reached the end.
The Gestapo officer, Major Diessen, looked at him scornfully. 'And now,' he said. 'If you had been able to return to England, what would you have done with all these children?'
Howard said: 'I meant to send them to America.'
'Why?'
'Because it is safe over there. Because this war is bad for children to see. It would be better for them to be out of it.'
The German stared at him. 'Very fine words. But who was going to pay to send them to America, may I ask?'
The old man said: 'Oh, I should have done that.'
The other smiled, scornfully amused. 'And what would they do in America? Starve?'
'Oh no. I have a married daughter over there. She would have made a home for them until the war was over.'
'This is a waste of time,' the German said. 'You must think me a stupid fellow to be taken in with such a tale.'
Nicole said: 'Nevertheless, m'sieur, it is quite true. I knew the son and I have known the father. The daughter would be much the same. American people are generous to refugees, to children.'
Diessen turned to her. 'So,' he sneered, 'mademoiselle comes in to support this story. But now for mademoiselle herself. We leam that mademoiselle was a friend of the old English gentleman's son. A very great friend...'
He barked at her suddenly. 'His mistress, no doubt?'
She drew herself up. 'You may say so if you like,' she said quietly. 'You can call a sunset by a filthy name, but you do not spoil its beauty, monsieur.'
There was a pause. The young Tank officer leaned across and whispered a word or two to the Gestapo officer. Diessen nodded and turned back to the old man.
'By the dates,' he said, 'you could have returned to England if you had travelled straight through Dijon. But you did not do so. That is the weak point of your story. That is where your lies begin in earnest.'
He said sharply: 'Why did you stay in France? Tell me now, quickly, and with no more nonsense. I promise you that you will talk before tonight, in any case. It will be better for you to talk now.'
Howard was puzzled and distressed. 'The little girl,' he turned and indicated Sheila, 'fell ill in Dijon. I told you so just now. She was too ill to travel.'
The German leaned across the table to him, white with anger. 'Listen,' he said. 'I warn you once again, and this for the last time. I am not to be trifled with. That sort of lie would not deceive a child. If you had wanted to return to England you would have gone.'
'These children were in my care,' the old man said. 'I could not have done that.'
The Gestapo officer said: 'Lies... lies... lies.' He was about to say something more, but checked himself. The young man by his side leaned forward and whispered deferentially to him again.
Major Diessen leaned back in his chair. 'So,' he said, 'you refuse our kindness and you will not talk. As you wish. Before the evening you will be talking freely, Mister Englishman, but by then you will be blind, and in horrible pain. It will be quite amusing for my men. Mademoiselle, too, shall be there to see, and the little children also.'
There was a silence in the office.
'Now you will be taken away,' the German said. 'I shall send for you when my men are ready to begin.' He leaned forward. 'I will tell you what we want to know, so that you may know what to say even though you be blind and deaf. We know you are a spy, wandering through the country in disguise and with this woman and the children as a cover. We know you have been operating with Charenton - you need not tell us about that. We know that either you or Charenton sent information to the English of the Fuhrer's visit to the ships in Brest, and that you caused the raid.'
He paused. 'But what we do not know, and what this afternoon you shall tell us, is how the message was passed through to England, to that Major Cochrane' - his lip sneered - 'that died in 1924, according to your story. That is what you are going to tell, Mister Englishman. And as soon as it is told the pain will stop. Remember that.'
He motioned to the Feldwebel. 'Take them away.'
They were thrust out of the room. Howard moved in a daze; it was incredible that this thing should be happening to him. It was what he had read of and had found some difficulty in crediting. It was what they were supposed to do to Jews in concentration camps. It could not be true.
Focquet was taken from them and hustled off on his own. Howard and Nicole were bundled into a downstairs prison room, with a heavily-barred window; the door was slammed on them and they were left alone.
Pierre said, in French: 'Are we going to have our dinner here, mademoiselle?'
Nicole said dully: 'I expect so, Pierre.'
Ronnie said: 'What are we going to have for dinner?'
She put an arm around his shoulder. 'I don't know,' she said mechanically. 'We'll see when we get it. Now, you run off and play with Rose. I want to talk to Monsieur Howard.'
She turned to Howard. 'This is very bad,' she said. 'We are involved in something terrible.'
He nodded. 'It seems to be that air raid that they had on Brest. The one that you were in.'
She said: 'In the shops that day they were saying that Adolf Hitler was in Brest, but one did not pay attention. There is so much rumour, so much idle talk.'
There was a silence. Howard stood looking out of the window at the little weeded, overgrown garden outside. As he stood the situation became clear to him. In such a case the local officers of the Gestapo would have to make a show of energy. They would have to produce the spies who had been instrumental in the raid, or the mutilated bodies of people who were classed as spies.
Presently he said: 'I cannot tell them what I do not know, and so things may go badly with me. If I should be killed, you will do your best for the children, Nicole?'