Nicole and Howard got the children out of the carriage on to the platform. Over the hill the sun was setting in a clear sky. The Gestapo officer nodded to the guard, who shut the carriage door and blew a little toot on his horn. The train moved forward, the carriages passed by them, and went on slowly up the line. They were left standing on this little platform in the middle of the country with the Gestapo officer.
'So,' he said. 'You will now follow me.'
He led the way down the wooden steps that gave on to the road. There was no ticket-collector and no booking-office; the little halt was quite deserted. Outside, in the lane, there was a grey car, a Ford van with a utility body. In the driver's seat there was a soldier in black Gestapo uniform. Beside him was a child.
Diessen opened the door and made the child get out. 'Komm, Anna,' he said, 'Hier ist Herr Howard, und mit ihm wirst du zu Onkel Ruprecht gehen.'
The little girl stared at the old man, and his retinue of children, and at the dishevelled girl beside him. Then she stretched out a little skinny arm, and in a shrill voice exclaimed: 'Heil Hitler!'
The old man said gravely: 'Guten abend, Anna.' He turned to the Gestapo officer, smiling faintly. 'She will have to get out of that habit if she's going to America,' he said.
Diessen nodded. 'I will tell her.' He spoke to the little girl, who listened to him round-eyed. She asked a question, puzzled; Howard caught the word Hitler. Diessen explained to her again; under the scrutiny of Howard and Nicole he flushed a little. The child said something in a clear, decisive tone which made the driver of the car turn in his seat and glance towards his officer for guidance.
Diessen said: 'I think she understands.' To the old man he seemed a little embarrassed.
He asked: 'What did she say?'
The officer said: 'Children do not understand the Führer. That is reserved for adults.'
Nicole asked him in French: 'But, monsieur, tell us what she said.'
The German shrugged his shoulders. 'I cannot understand the reasoning of children. She said that she is glad that she has not got to say "Heil Hitler" any more, because the Führer wears a moustache.'
Howard said with perfect gravity: 'It is difficult to understand the minds of children.'
'That is so. Now, will you all get into the car. We will not linger in this place.' The German glanced around suspiciously.
They got into the car. Anna got into the back seats with them; Diessen seated himself beside the driver. The car moved down the road. In the front seat the Gestapo officer turned, and passed back a cotton bag tied with a string to Howard, and another to Nicole.
'Your papers and your money,' he said briefly. 'See that it is all in order.'
The old man opened it. Everything that had been taken from his pockets was there, quite intact.
In the gathering dusk they drove through the countryside for an hour and a half. From time to time the officer said something in a low tone to the driver; the old man got the impression once that they were driving round merely to kill time till darkness fell. Now and again they passed through villages, sometimes past barricades with German posts on guard. At these the car stopped and the sentry came and peered into the car. At the sight of the Gestapo uniform he stepped quickly back and saluted. This happened two or three times.
Once Howard asked: 'Where are we going to?'
The German said: To l'Abervrach. Your fisherman is there.'
After a pause the old man said: 'There was a guard on the harbour.'
Diessen said: 'There is no guard tonight - that has been arranged. Do you take me for a fool?'
Howard said no more.
At ten o'clock, in the first darkness, they ran softly to the quay at l'Abervrach. The car drew up noiselessly and the engine stopped at once. The Gestapo officer got out and stood for half a minute, staring around. All was quiet and still.
He turned back to the car. 'Come,' he said. 'Get out quickly - and do not let the children talk.' They helped the children from the car. Diessen said to Nicole: 'There is to be no trickery. You shall stay with me. If you should try to go with them, I shall shoot down the lot of you.'
She raised her head. 'You need not draw your gun,' she said. 'I shall not try to go.'
The German did not answer her, but pulled the big automatic from the holster at his waist. In the dim light he went striding softly down the quay; Howard and Nicole hesitated for a moment and then followed him with the children; the black-uniformed driver brought up the rear. At the end, by the water's edge, Diessen turned.
He called to them in a low tone. 'Hurry.'
There was a boat there, where the slip ran down into the water. They could see the tracery of its mast and rigging outlined against the starry sky; the night was very quiet.
They drew closer and saw it was a half-decked fishing-boat. There were two men there, besides Diessen. One was standing on the quay in the black uniform they knew so well. The other was in the boat, holding her to the quay by a rope rove through a ring.
'In with you, quickly,' said Diessen. 'I want to see you get away.'
He turned to Focquet, speaking in French. 'You are not to start your engine till you are past Le Trepied,' he said. 'I do not want the countryside to be alarmed.'
The young man nodded. 'There is no need,' he said in the soft Breton dialect. 'There is sufficient wind to steer by, and the ebb will take us out.'
They passed the seven children one by one down into the boat. 'You now,' the German said to Howard. 'Remember to behave yourself in England. I shall send for you in London in a very few weeks' time. In September.'
The old man turned to Nicole. 'This is good-bye, my dear,' he said. He hesitated. 'I do not think this war will be over in September. I may be old when it is over, and not able to travel very well. You will come and visit me, Nicole? There is so much that I shall want to say to you. So much that I wanted to talk over with you, if we had not been so hurried and so troubled in the last few days.'
She said: 'I will come and stay with you as soon as we can travel. And you shall talk to me about John.'
The German said: 'You must go now, Mr Englishman.'
He kissed the girl; for a minute she clung to him. Then he got down into the boat among the children.
Pierre said: 'Is this the boat that's going to take us to America?'
The old man shook his head. 'Not this boat,' he said, with mechanical patience. 'That will be a bigger boat than this.'
'How big will that one be?' asked Ronnie. 'Twice as big?'
Focquet had slipped the warp out of the ring and was thrusting vigorously with an oar against the quay-side. The stretch of dark water that separated them from France grew to a yard, to five yards wide. The old man stood motionless, stricken with grief, with longing to be back on the quay, with the bitter loneliness of old age.
He saw the figure of the girl standing with the three Germans by the water's edge, watching them as they slid away. The ebb caught the boat and hurried her quietly out into the stream; Focquet was heaving on a halliard forward and the heavy nut-brown sail crept slowly up the mast. For a moment he lost sight of Nicole as a mist dimmed his eyes; then he saw her again clearly, still standing motionless beside the Germans. Then the gloom shrouded all of them, and all he could see was the faint outline of the hill against the starry sky.