The old man stared at him. 'I cannot tell you,' he replied. 'Quite truthfully, I do not know. I have not been concerned in his affairs at all.' He said it with a sense of relief. If he had had the information things would have been more difficult.
The Gestapo officer stepped back. That is mere nonsense,' he said harshly. 'I do not believe that. You know sufficient to assist an agent of your country if he needs your help. All travellers in any foreign country know that much. Do you take me for a fool?'
Howard said: 'That may be so with German travellers. In England ordinary travellers know nothing about espionage. I tell you, I know literally nothing that could help this man.'
The German bit his lip. He said: 'I am inclined to think you are a spy yourself. You have been wandering round the country in disguise, nobody knows where. You had better be careful. You may share his fate.'
'Even so,' the old man said, 'I could not tell you anything of value to you, because I do not know.'
Diessen turned to the window again. 'You have not got very much time,' he said. 'A minute or two, not more. Think again before it is too late.'
Howard looked out into the garden. They had put the young man with his back against the wall in front of a plum-tree. His hands now were bound behind his back, and the Feldwebel was blindfolding him with a red cotton handkerchief.
The German said: 'Nobody can ever know. There is still time for you to save him.'
'I cannot save him in that way,' the old man said. 'I have not got the information. But this is a bad, wicked thing that you are going to do. It will not profit you in the long run.'
The Gestapo officer swung round on him suddenly. He thrust his face near to the old man's. 'He gave you messages,' he said fiercely. 'You think you are clever, but you cannot deceive me. The "Trout Inn" - beer - flowers - fish! Do you think I am a fool? What does all that mean?'
'Nothing but what he said,' Howard replied. 'It is a place that he is fond of. That is all.'
The German drew back morosely. 'I do not believe it,' he said sullenly.
In the garden the Feldwebel had left the young man by the wall. The six soldiers were drawn up in a line in front of him, distant about ten yards. The officer had given them a command and they were loading.
'I am not going to delay this matter any longer,' said Diessen: 'Have you still nothing to say to save his life?'
The old man shook his head.
In the garden the officer glanced up to their window. Diessen lifted his hand and dropped it. The officer turned, drew himself up and gave a sharp word of command. An irregular volley rang out. The old man saw the body by the plum-tree crumple and fall, twitch for a little and lie still.
He turned away, rather sick. Diessen moved over to the middle of the room. The sentry still stood impassive at the door.
'I do not know whether I should believe your story or not,'the German said heavily at last. 'If you are a spy you are at least a clever one.'
Howard said: 'I am not a spy.'
'What are you doing in this country, then? Wandering round disguised as a French peasant?'
'I have told you that,' the old man said wearily, 'many times. I have been trying to get these children back to England, to send them to their homes or to America.'
The German burst out: 'Lies - lies! Always the same lies! You English are the same every time! Stubborn as mules!' He thrust his face into the other's. 'Criminals, all the lot of you!' He indicated the garden beyond the window. 'You could have prevented that, but you would not.'
'I could not have prevented you from killing that young man. That was your own doing.'
The Gestapo officer said, gloomily: 'I did not want to kill him. He forced me to do it, you and he between you. You are both to blame for his death. You left me with no other course.'
There was a silence. Then the German said: 'All your time you spend lymg and scheming against us. Your Churchill and your Chamberlain, goading us on, provoking us to war. And you are just another one.'
The old man did not answer that.
The German pulled himself together, crossed the room, and sat down at a table. 'This story of yours about sending these children to America,' he said. 'I do not believe a word of it.'
The old man was very, very tired. He said, indifferently: 'I can't help that. That is what I meant to do with them.'
'You still say that you would have sent them to your married daughter?'
'Yes.'
'Where does she live in America?'
'At a place called Coates Harbor, on Long Island.'
'Long Island. That is where the wealthy live. Is your daughter very wealthy?'
The old man said: 'She is married to an American business man. Yes, they are quite well off.'
The German said incredulously: 'You still wish me to believe that a wealthy woman such as that would make a home in her own house for all these dirty little children that you have picked up?'
Howard said: 'She will do that.' He paused, and then he said, 'You do not understand. Over there, they want to help us. If they make a home for children, refugees from Europe, they feel that they are doing something worth while. And they are.'
The German glanced at him curiously. 'You have travelled in America?'
'A little.'
'Do you know a town called White Falls?'
Howard shook his head. 'That sounds like quite a common name, but I don't recollect it. What state is it in?'
'In Minnesota. Is that far from Long Island?'
'It's right in the middle. I should think it's about a thousand miles.' This conversation was becoming very odd, the old man thought.
The German said: 'Now about mademoiselle. Were you going to send her to America also? Is she one of your children, may I ask?'
The old man shook his head. 'I would like her to go there,' he replied. 'But she will not leave France. Her father is a prisoner in your hands; her mother is alone in Chartres. I have tried to persuade her to come with us to England, but she will not do so. You have nothing against her.'
The other shrugged his shoulders. 'That is a matter of opinion. She has been helping you in your work.'
The old man said wearily: 'I tell you over and over again, I have no secret work. I know that you do not believe me.' He paused. 'The only work that I have had for the last fortnight has-been to get these children into safety.'
There was a little silence.
'Let them go through to England,' he said quietly. 'Let the young man Focquet sail with them for Plymouth in his boat, and let Mademoiselle Rougeron go with them to take them to America. If you let them go, like that, I will confess to anything you like.'
The Gestapo man stared at him angrily. 'You are talking nonsense,' he replied. 'That is an insult to the German nation that you have just made. Do you take us for a pack of dirty Russians, to make bargains of that sort?'