They emerged cautiously from their cover.

‘Where’s she gone?’ Sabine said irritably.

‘He didn’t come to meet her,’ Suzie replied. Then she added, ‘He speaks very funny German, Mr Vernhes, with French all mixed up in it. Do you think the major captured him and he managed to talk his way out of it?’

Sabine was uninterested. All she wanted now was to go home. They resumed their path through the chestnut woods. They had reached a point where the route divided when abruptly someone moved to block their way: Vernhes.

‘Sabine,’ he said, ‘and her little friend …’

‘Suzie,’ said Sabine. She took Suzie’s arm in self protection as if to form a single defensive unit.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘We’re walking.’

‘Of course, we’re quite close to Bonnemort here.’ Vernhes was looking round him as if establishing his position for the first time. He turned onto the small path away from the house, signalling them to follow him. ‘Come.’

Sabine seemed about to run; then as the impulse left her she dropped Suzie’s arm and followed. They walked until they reached a ruined farm. It was situated off the path and the track up to it had almost disappeared. Its roof was intact, but on one side the window openings were empty, on the other boarded up and covered with creeper, giving the place the same crooked, lopsided look as the lieutenant with his eyepatch. Looking abandoned from the outside, inside it showed signs of occupation: wine bottles and saucepans littered a table; the fireplace was full of dead ash. Vernhes led them into a smaller room where a door laid over some trestles made a table around which were gathered a few chairs.

He seated himself, while Sabine and Suzie remained standing.

‘So, Sabine,’ he said. ‘It’s a long time since I saw you. Sit down.’ The invitation appeared more like an order. With exaggerated slowness, Sabine pulled out a chair and obeyed.

‘What are you two doing wandering around the woods?’

‘We were out for a walk, just walking.’

Sabine was uneasy, glancing at Suzie for support. Vernhes concentrated the fire of his questioning on her, taking no notice of Suzie. How had he escaped with his life from his encounter with the major, she wondered. He must be very cunning. She could not understand why he wanted to question Sabine whose replies, at first minimal, became longer and more circumstantial. There was something odd about the tone of Sabine’s voice, Suzie thought. It must have something to do with Vernhes’ being a teacher, for she sounded anxious, as if she was unsure whether her answer was correct and feared she might be punished. He wanted to know about Bonnemort, as much about Henri and Madame Ariane as about the major and the German occupiers. He knew Sabine well, for he was aware of her hatred of her stepmother and played upon it, encouraging her to tell him about her.

Suzie felt her fear grow, rippling out from her stomach into her limbs, in case Sabine should blurt out her suspicions of Madame Ariane and the major. She could do as much harm to Madame Ariane by betraying her to the Resistance, as she could do to Suzie by betraying her to the Germans, and to harm her stepmother was what Sabine wanted. Would she realise that this was her opportunity to kill her, far more effective than fantasies of poisoning? Suzie stilled her own movements, drawing in her breath and releasing it slowly to make the time pass.