“Fool!” a voice hissed behind me, just as I approached the grate. I turned to see Bubbe Rosenberg, who must have seen me leave the chamber and followed me. Or perhaps she had just been walking the tunnels aimlessly. She seemed increasingly confused lately and prone to wandering. More than once, Saul had followed after her when she strayed from the chamber at night and led her back. He often lay beside her, holding her as he slept, so that she didn’t get lost, or fall into the sewer river and drown like Papa. “You’ll get us all killed,” she said now. I wondered if she had seen me talking to Ella before or if Saul had told her. “Go to the grate again and I’ll have you tossed out.” I wasn’t sure if she could do that, or even what she really meant. But I didn’t want to find out.

“Enough,” I said rudely. My mother, if she had heard me, would have been mortified at my rudeness. But I simply couldn’t take it anymore.

Bubbe muttered something unintelligible. I hoped she would return to the chamber. She lingered in the tunnel, though, still talking to herself. So I remained in the shadows, close to the grate, not daring to violate her order. I did not want her to create a scene and alert the others to what I was doing. I imagined Ella on the street above, waiting for me.

When the old woman finally left, I hurried to the grate. “Hello?” I called softly. I did not see Ella. I wondered if she had been there and gone because I had taken too long, or whether she had not come at all. Perhaps she had forgotten about me. That seemed unlikely; Ella was always so helpful and kind. The street above was strangely quiet, though, and I did not see anyone else either. In the distance, I heard the wailing of a police siren long and low. Something was wrong, I sensed uneasily. It was not safe to wait here any longer.

Rain began to fall then, thick drops falling through the grate and puddling on the already wet sewer ground. I started back sadly.

As I neared the chamber, Mama appeared in the entranceway. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said in a low voice. Her face was more somber than usual. I wondered if Bubbe had told her about my going back to the grate. “I was just about to send Saul to look for you. You must come now.”

“What is it?” Mama did not answer, but led me back into the chamber. She tilted her chin upward. The sound of the parishioners had gone silent, but there was another noise, louder and more ominous, of doors opening and slamming shut, male voices speaking German. “They are searching for Jews,” Pan Rosenberg whispered ominously from across the chamber.

It was not, of course, the first time I had heard of such things. Still, my panic rose at the realization that they were searching for Jews so close to our hiding place. “Are they coming for us?” I asked.