Israel Katz stiffened, and it was as though a mask fell into place. Noelle saw his right hand slide into the pocket of his overcoat. His eyes flickered toward the narrow passageway that led to an exit in the rear, but one of the soldiers was already moving toward it, blocking it. Israel said in a low urgent voice, "Get away from me. Walk out the front door. Now."
"Why?" Noelle demanded.
The Germans were examining the identification papers of some customers at a table near the entrance.
"Don't ask questions," he commanded. "Just go."
Noelle hesitated a moment, then rose to her feet and started toward the door. The soldiers were moving on to the next table. Israel had pushed his chair back to give himself more freedom. The movement attracted the attention of two of the soldiers. They walked over to him.
"Identity papers."
Somehow Noelle knew that it was Israel the soldiers were looking for and that he was going to try to escape and they would kill him. He had no chance.
She turned and called out to him, "Francois! We are going to be late for the theater. Pay the check and let's go."
The soldiers looked at her in surprise. Noelle started back toward the table.
Corporal Schultz moved to face her. He was a blond, apple-cheeked boy in his early twenties. "Are you with this man, Fraulein?" he asked.
"Of course I am! Haven't you anything better to do than pester honest French citizens?" Noelle demanded, angrily.
"I am sorry, my good Fraulein, but..."
"I am not your good Fraulein!" Noelle snapped. "I am Noelle Page. I am starring at the Varietes Theatre, and this man is my costar. Tonight, when I am having supper with my dear friend, General Hans Scheider, I shall inform him of your behavior this afternoon and he will be furious with you."
Noelle saw the look of recognition come into the corporal's eyes, but whether it was a recognition of her name or General Scheider's, she could not be sure.
"I--I am sorry, Fraulein," he stammered. "Of course I recognize you." He turned to Israel Katz, who sat there silently, his hand in his coat pocket. "I do not recognize this gentleman."
"You would if you barbarians ever went to the theater," said Noelle with stinging contempt. "Are we under arrest or may we leave?"
The young corporal was aware of everyone's eyes on him. He had to make an instant decision. "Of course the Fraulein and her friend are not under arrest," he said. "I apologize if I have inconvenienced you. I--"
Israel Katz looked up at the soldier and said coolly, "It's raining outside, Corporal. I wonder if one of your men could find us a taxi."
"Of course. At once."
Israel got into the taxi with Noelle, and the German corporal stood in the rain watching as they drove away. When the taxi stopped for a traffic light three blocks away, Israel opened the door, squeezed Noelle's hand once and disappeared without a word into the night.
At seven o'clock that evening when Noelle walked into her theater dressing room, there were two men waiting for her. One of them was the young German corporal from the bistro that afternoon. The other was in mufti. He was an albino, completely hairless, with pink eyes, and he somehow reminded Noelle of an unformed baby. He was in his thirties, with a moon face. His voice was high-pitched and almost laughably feminine, but there was an ineffable quality, a deadliness about him that was chilling. "Miss Noelle Page?"
"Yes."
"I am Colonel Kurt Mueller, Gestapo. I believe you have met Corporal Schultz."
Noelle turned to the corporal, indifferently, "No, I don't believe I have."
"At the kaffehause this afternoon," the corporal said helpfully.
Noelle turned to Mueller. "I meet so many people."
The colonel nodded. "It must be difficult to remember everyone when you have so many friends, Fraulein."
She nodded. "Exactly."
"For example, this friend you were with this afternoon." He paused, watching Noelle's eyes. "You told Corporal Schultz that he is starring in the show with you?"
Noelle looked at the Gestapo man in surprise. "The corporal must have misunderstood me."