She lifted her watch to her face and stared at the hands. Star had been gone almost twenty minutes. She felt suddenly afraid that he wouldn’t come back, that he’d tired of her, decided just to abandon her there. She looked up at the lighted window opposite but could see no one. A taxi was just pulling in at the end of the street. She shrank back into the shadows, imprisoned there by fear and love, by an anguish of uncertainty—by the most potent combination of weapons any man can use against a woman, of course, but Mina did not understand that. Less than a minute later she gave a low cry of relief: the door opposite had opened, and Star was across the narrow street in an instant.

Mina began to move forward, into the light spilling from the restaurants, and then she stopped. Two people had climbed out of the taxi, a man and a woman. They were now moving along the street. They were checking the numbers of doors, and they were speaking English: Mina caught the man’s deeper tones, then the woman’s low voice.

Star, usually so cautious, seemed unaware of this. He had come to a halt just in front of her, and was staring at her as if she were invisible, as if he looked at a wall. Tears were streaming down his face.

“Star, quickly. These people are English,” she whispered, catching hold of him. “Come out of the light.”

He still did not move; he seemed not to hear her. The man and the woman were closer now, about thirty feet away. Frightened, Mina backed into the shadows of the church doorway, pulling Star after her. He had begun to make a noise, a terrible noise, a low, moaning noise. Mina fumbled with the handle of the door behind her and opened it.

“Don’t, Star, don’t,” she whispered, and tried to cover his mouth with her hand. Shaking, she half pushed, half pulled him into the church and swung the door shut. It was dimly lit and empty. Candles flickered in some distant recess. Star slumped back against the closed door, then slumped to the ground. He crouched there, silent now, then buried his face in his arms. Mina stood absolutely still, listening, torn between Star and the footsteps outside, which had been coming closer but had now stopped.

“It’s the house over there,” the man said. Mina could hear him clearly. “The one with the lace curtains. Someone’s in—there’s lights, there’s a television on…”

Mina froze, pressing her ear to the door panels.

“Shall we both try?” It was the woman’s voice. “It’s late. We don’t want to alarm them.”

“You try first. A woman is less intimidating. Be careful what you say. If she’s there, I’ll come over—let’s play it like that. I’ll wait here in the doorway, out of sight.”

The woman seemed to hesitate. “Is something wrong, Rowland?”

“No. Nothing. Go on…”

Mina heard the woman’s footsteps cross the street. Her male companion moved back so he was just on the other side of the church door. Mina held her breath. Then, to her astonishment, she heard the man give way to some unexplained emotion. He made some quick violent movement; Mina thought he struck the wall beside the door with his fist; she heard him say Christ once, in a low voice, then again, even more quietly, then she heard the sound of knocking from across the street. Then silence. Then voices, the woman’s and a girl’s, speaking rapidly in French.