André boosted Marie in beside her mother, and M. Gagnon closed the door upon them. Father Duprey said calmly, “You may as well come along, Pierre. It will comfort your wife. I’ll see that you and Marie get home tonight.” “But André--” Pierre whispered. André tugged at his arm. “Go. Go, Papa,” he urged. “I can take care of everything--only go.” Down the road, the Nazis were piling back into their truck and the starter whined. [Illustration: _He opened the door to find a Nazi officer frowning at him_] Father Duprey seized Pierre’s arm and whipped him swiftly forward and up to the seat in front. He had no more than slid into the seat himself when the Maquis driver rocked the old ambulance into action with a crash of gears. The machine swayed into a turn and roared away toward Ste. Mère Église. André watched it go for a long minute. The German army truck started, but halted a little distance off, and the sharp voice of the officer giving commands drifted toward them. Raoul Cotein shifted his feet. “Uh--I have things to do,” he cried suddenly. He flung a leg over his bicycle, and peddling furiously, was soon gone. André moved idly toward the house. Once through his own door, the boy trotted quickly into the kitchen. He untied his dog and put him in the dimly lit cow barn. As he snapped the door fastening, he spoke warningly, “Not a sound out of you, Patchou. Remember!” He got back into the house just in time to answer a loud thumping at the front door. He opened it to find a Nazi officer and several hard-faced soldiers frowning down at him. CHAPTER FOUR _Midnight Landing_ André stepped quickly aside as, without a word, the Germans tramped in. Three of them were ordered upstairs while the others set to work poking into every cupboard and drawer on the first floor. When they had emptied the kitchen of its copper they trooped off to the outbuildings. André waited uncertainly in the hallway at first. Later, he edged his way to the farmyard door and anxiously watched the search through the barns. Not until he saw that none of the men went toward the lane where his trumpet was buried did he begin to breathe easily. At last, the officer came from the loft over the cow barn, shouting to his men to return to the truck. He strode into the kitchen and asked André, “Your father and mother--where are they?” “They are all gone to the hospital with my mother, who is sick,” André explained. “Well, then, when your father returns,” the officer snapped, “tell him I am putting men with machine guns in that loft overlooking the road. And advise him that it will do no good to protest.” André’s heart sank. What would the family do with a lot of Nazis underfoot? Did they suspect that the Gagnons had been working with the Underground? Now, for the first time, he felt desperately alone. He nodded silently.