One of the men came forward. "Venter and Brenckmann," he said softly, "come for the Captain." "Yes, yes," Hansie said hurriedly. "I know. We have waited for you more than an hour. But these people? Who are they?" "Our friends and relatives come to see us off," came the unexpected reply. Hansie was silent, trying to hide her indignation, her rising resentment, as another and yet another form cautiously emerged from behind the foliage. "Do you know," she said at last, "that you are not only exposing us to great danger by coming here at a time like this, but that you are making it a thousand times more difficult for the Captain to depart unobserved? How could you be so indiscreet?" "These people are all trustworthy," one of the men volunteered. "I have no doubt of it." Hansie extended her hands cordially to them. "But you must all go now as quietly as you came. Say good-bye and go, please, before I go to call the Captain." She turned away with a lump in her throat, for no sounds broke the stillness of the night save those of stifled sobs and murmured caresses. "Fare thee well. God be with you!" There was Brenckmann with his three sisters, there was Venter with one sister and a sweetheart, and there was the sweetheart of one of Brenckmann's sisters, to say nothing of the other relatives and friends whom I have been unable to place. Some distance from the scene, and unobserved by all save one, was the figure of the ever-cautious and discreet van der Westhuizen, guarding the parcels which had previously been conveyed there, lurking among the trees. Swiftly and silently Hansie sped up to the house to meet the Captain, just as he, unable to bear the suspense any longer, had made up his mind to set out on his perilous expedition alone and was cautiously emerging from the bath-room door, concealing himself under the vineyard as he went. "They are there, Captain," she said in a quick and lowered voice, "waiting for you under the willows. Lower down near the bush van der Westhuizen is also waiting. He will distribute the parcels when you come. I think everything is in order and the coast clear. The military camp is quiet, the sergeant-major is in his 'tin villa.' Good-bye, Captain. God bless you." The man removed his helmet and stood before her in the pale light of the rising moon. His face was very white. "I shall never be able to thank you. God keep you. Good-bye, good-bye." He clasped her hand and was gone, as silent as the shadows into which he disappeared. When Hansie rejoined her mother a few minutes later no word was said on either side. The extreme tension was over, the reaction had set in, and they could not trust themselves to speak, but set to work at once, firmly and decently removing every trace in the house of confusion and disorder. In the room vacated by Captain Naude they found the snapshots of his wife and children taken in the Concentration Camp.