‘A Frenchman, Hermann,’ snorted the Chief. ‘A labourer on her father’s farm.’
‘Then I’m applying for compassionate leave, Sturmbannfuhrer. Please, you can’t cut me off like this. I’ll …’
Have nothing to go home to. All three of them knew this was what Hermann had been about to say.
‘Lyon,’ muttered St-Cyr. ‘We’ll pass through Vouvray, Walter. A short digression to restore the soul.’
‘Then see that you don’t take too long about it. This one’s slippery. Get to the cinema-house before the ashes are cold. Find the hand that did it.’