‘Plenty did.’

‘Well good for them. They probably knew where their next meal was coming from. Look, I know that everyone now claims they were in the resistance and those of us forced to work for the German were collaborators. But it really wasn’t as simple as that. The whole country collaborated, in the sense that the vast majority of people passively went along with the occupation. You people see everything as being black and white, whereas in truth most of us were forced to live in an uncomfortable grey world in between.’

‘I want to ask you about one person, Lefebvre, a German who worked for the Gestapo here in Paris. We’re not sure when he arrived here, but we know for sure he was here in December 1943 and left Paris sometime in early 1944. According to the description we have, he’d have been in his late twenties, and had blonde hair and what are described as bright blue eyes.’

‘Are you serious? You’re describing the majority of Germans who were here! Have you not heard of the Aryan race? Most of them in Paris looked like pretty good examples of it.’

‘His nickname was the Ferret.’

Both Hanne and Prince picked up on her reaction, perhaps before Marguerite did. Between them they must have interrogated hundreds of suspects, and both knew there was a point in an interrogation when someone was asked a question they knew the answer to but were reluctant to give it. It might be some information that would incriminate them, or they might be too scared to answer, or they might just want to keep quiet and see how much their interrogator knew. But the reaction was invariably the same – a momentary look of surprise, perhaps a pursing of the lips or a twitching of another facial muscle, accompanied by an adjustment in their seating. And the answer would always be a bit too quick to be convincing.

‘I have no idea who you’re talking about.’

‘Think about it very carefully, Lefebvre, because your life could depend upon it. I promise you if you give us his name then this will count in your favour and the charge against you will be reduced.’

Anna Lefebvre leaned forward, as if she was interested but trying not to show it. ‘Could I have one of your cigarettes?’

Hanne lit one for her and passed it over. Lefebvre looked closely into her eyes as she did so, still trying to work out who she was. She smoked the cigarette for a few moments and then pointed it towards them. ‘These two – do they speak?’

‘These two, as you call them, are the people who can decide whether you live or die. Think about it, Lefebvre, a Gestapo officer matching that description who was nicknamed the Ferret. I find it very hard to believe that if you worked at rue de Saussaies for all that time, you never came across him or heard the name.’