“Slow down!” hissed Leni.

Lockhart did so. She took his arm once more and pecked him on the cheek.

“Relax,” she whispered.

They walked on, occasionally glancing at their fellow visitors, who showed no sign of interest in them. Leni was right to hold his arm—it made them look ordinary, unremarkable.

As arranged, the woman was sitting on a bench looking at the Volkischer Beobachter. Because of her scarf, it was hard to tell her age, but Lockhart guessed she must have been in her mid-thirties. She was wearing glasses, and she was slightly plump. She didn’t even glance at them when they arrived.

Together, Leni and Lockhart feigned immense interest in the sundial, comparing the time it showed to the time on their watches. Out of the corners of their eyes, they took in those around them. A couple sat on the other bench, and another couple with a child were walking around. There was also a young and tubby Wehrmacht leutnant on his own. Lockhart wasn’t worried about him. If anything, he was more concerned about the couple with the child. They were the ones who looked the most innocent, and in his book that made them the most guilty. This was a damn stupid place, he thought, a damn stupid place.

The leutnant was walking near the woman. She looked up at him, which caused him to nod his head gently at her.

“A lovely day,” he said.

“Isn’t it,” said the woman.

“I love coming here, although I don’t get the chance very often.”

For Christ’s sake! Couldn’t this pipsqueak leutnant just bugger off?

The woman buried her head in the paper, but the leutnant wasn’t going to leave her alone.

“So you live in Hanover, Fräulein?”

Dammit, thought Lockhart, he was trying to pick her up!

The woman merely nodded at him. Good—hopefully he would get the message.

He did so, and walked away awkwardly, as though the conversation hadn’t taken place. The woman then stood up. Too soon, thought Lockhart, too soon. She left the newspaper on the bench. The last thing he wanted to do was rush over to it—that would look too obvious. But then the leutnant might pick it up—that would be a greater disaster. Lockhart had to avoid that happening.

He nudged Leni and together they turned toward the bench. Lockhart’s dread that this would be the moment they would be arrested was soon replaced by the realization that the leutnant was also heading toward the bench.

Lockhart quickened his step and reached the bench first, sitting down and picking up the newspaper.

“I’m sorry, Leutnant,” said Lockhart, “but my fiancée and I had been waiting for this bench.”

The leutnant looked puzzled.

“Excuse me?”

“This bench. My fiancée and I were waiting for it. We were here before you.”

The leutnant narrowed his eyes. Don’t cause any hassle, Lockhart was thinking, just go away, do the decent thing.

The leutnant must have read his mind, because he clacked his heels together, and performed a half-salute.