Camille hesitated, not sure if she should share where she hid the Englishman, even if it was his house. Not with Germans just outside. She glanced at the half-empty bottle of whiskey, went to the window, and looked out, and then walked to the kitchen and did the same. She made sure the back door was locked. Not that it mattered.
“Check from my bedroom windows,” Lucien said as she eyed the partially closed door.
She went in and looked out the windows. “No more Germans are coming. But a handful wait near the stream.”
“They’re camping for the night.”
She paused. “They may come back at any time.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where’s the Englishman?”
“Come,” she said.
She led him into the spare room, just past the threshold. They stood in the doorway, the empty couch to their right.
He glanced a
