“We must leave immediately,” he said.

“When, Jakob?”

“In the middle of the night.”

“But… but—how… what will we—”

“It’s already been arranged.”

“But Jakob, we can’t leave—just like that, without—”

“We must, Ulrike,” interrupted her husband with yet more urgency. For the first time she apprehended the panic in his voice. She looked deeply into his eyes. She realized what fear he carried on behalf of his family. “We must,” he repeated, softer now, but with no less insistency.

They stood silent a moment.

He took her gently into his arms and held her close. For the Jews of Poland, this hour was never far away. Now for Jakob and Ulrike Kropf, suddenly it had come. They were more fortunate than most. They at least had a few hours’ warning. Though but an unskilled textile worker, Jakob Kropf was a shrewd man. He had been watching developments and making plans on behalf of his wife and son and daughter. No modern-day Moses, he yet took his little charge as seriously as did the great deliverer his ancient flock of millions. For these three children of Israel, the Pole and faithful follower of Yahweh Jakob Kropf would give his life, if necessary, to rescue them from the bondage of their twentieth-century Egypt.

“The Gestapo came to the factory today,” said Jakob at length, still holding his young wife. “I watched from far away across the floor. I saw two agents—I knew immediately they were Gestapo—go into the glass office of the superintendent. He showed them papers. They took them. I know they were employee lists. It is their way. They came back later. I was watching. I was afraid I would drop a box and bring attention to myself. This time I found an excuse to move closer and watch. They showed the superintendent the list again, pointing to certain of the names. He went to the cabinet and brought out more files. You know what they were, Ulrike! My personnel file, and the others’!”

“What did you do, Jakob?”

“What could I do? I tried to keep my mind on my work! I knew it was my last day at the factory, that I would never see another paycheck, and that tomorrow none of us would be back.”

“Can you be sure?”

“It is happening everywhere, Ulrike. You cannot have forgotten the steel plant. The Gestapo came, and the next day every Jew employed in it was arrested—and their families. That was only last week. They have set their sights on Wloclawek. They will be here tomorrow. We have only tonight, Ulrike—only tonight.”

That had been some hours before.