"Nein, Fraulein," the corporal replied indignantly, "You said..."
The colonel turned to give him a freezing look, and the corporal's mouth snapped closed in mid-sentence.
"Perhaps," said Kurt Mueller amiably. "This kind of thing can happen so easily when one is trying to communicate in a foreign language."
"That is true," said Noelle quickly.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the corporal's face redden with anger, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I'm sorry to have troubled you over nothing," Kurt Mueller said.
Noelle felt her shoulders relax and she suddenly realized how tense she had been.
"That's perfectly all right," she said. "Perhaps I can give you tickets for the play."
"I have seen it," the Gestapo man said, "and Corporal Schultz has already bought his ticket. But thank you."
He started toward the door, then paused. "When you called Corporal Schultz a barbarian, he decided to buy a ticket this evening to see your performance. When he looked at the actors' photographs in the lobby, he did not see the picture of your friend from the kaffehause. That is when he called me."
Noelle's heart began to beat faster.
"Just for the record, Mademoiselle. If he was not your costar, who was he?"
"A--a friend."
"His name?" The high-pitched voice was still soft, but it had become dangerous.
"What difference does it make?" Noelle asked.
"Your friend answers the description of a criminal we are looking for. He was reported seen in the vicinity of the place St. Germain des Pres this afternoon."
Noelle stood watching him, her mind racing.
"What is the name of your friend?" Colonel Mueller's voice was insistent.
"I--I don't know."
"Ah, then he was a stranger?"
"Yes."
He stared at her, his cold pink eyes drilling into hers. "You were sitting with him. You stopped the soldiers from looking at his papers. Why?"
"I felt sorry for him," Noelle said. "He came up to me..."
"Where?"
Noelle thought quickly. Someone could have seen them going into the bistro together. "Outside the cafe. He told me that the soldiers were looking for him because he had stolen some groceries for his wife and children. It seemed such a minor crime that I..." She looked up at Mueller appealingly, "I helped him."
Mueller studied her a moment and nodded his head admiringly. "I can understand why you are such a big star." The smile died from his face, and when he spoke again his voice was even softer. "Let me give you some advice, Mademoiselle Page. We wish to be on good terms with you French. We want you to be our friends as well as our allies. But anyone who helps our enemy becomes our enemy. We will catch your friend, Mademoiselle, and when we do, we will question him, and I promise you he will talk."
"I have nothing to be afraid of," Noelle said.
"You are wrong." She could barely hear him. "You have me to be afraid of." Colonel Mueller nodded to the corporal and started toward the door again. He turned once more. "If you hear from your friend, you will report it to me at once. If you fail to do so..." He smiled at her. And the two men were gone.
Noelle sank into a chair, drained. She was aware that she had not been convincing, but she had been caught completely off guard. She had been so sure that the incident had been forgotten. She remembered now some of the stories she had heard about the Gestapo, and a small chill went through her. Supposing they caught Israel Katz and he did talk. He could tell them that they wer
e old friends, that Noelle had lied about not knowing him. But surely that could not be important. Unless...the name she had thought of in the restaurant popped into her mind again. Le Cafard.