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He comes in last, as though the timing is entirely his own choosing—which, with Cat, it probably is. Early thirties, tall, with the particular ease of a man raised to believe that rooms arrange themselves around him, as generally they do. He comes from old money, aristocratic stock, the kind of family that left for England when the Germans came. Cat did not leave. Whether that was courage or stubbornness or something else entirely, no one has yet determined. He may not know the reason himself. He looks around the room with calm, unhurried interest, as though assessing it for entertainment value, and allows himself a small smile at nothing in particular.

Tina closes the door behind them.

“Dancer, Agent, Félix, Cat—please, sit down.”

The four settle into the living room, each making an assessment of trust and risk. These are not their real names. They work under aliases, a necessary fiction that keeps them safer than they would otherwise be. They know that Louis and Tina take an extra risk simply by opening this door, by letting these meetings happen within these walls. The Levallois family offers them something that cannot be easily found elsewhere.

A safe place. For now.

In a room down the hall, the little girl is sobbing. “Mlle Levallois, where are Maman and Léon?”

Oh, we really must do something about you calling me Mlle Levallois, Andrée thinks, but all she says is, “You’re safe here. Can I call you Josie like your mother does?”

The child nods.

“Good. Josie, you’re safe with me, with my Maman and Papa. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” Andrée keeps her voice calm and reassuring. She wishes she was sure this was true. “Can I get you something? Water, something to eat?”

“I’m very thirsty.”

“Of course. Get back into bed. I’ll fetch you some water, and then I think you should try to sleep some more.”

Walking through the living room to the kitchen, Andrée nods at the guests.

“I’m just going to get the child some water. Then she’ll go back to sleep and we can explain everything,” she tells them.

Josie drinks the water before snuggling beneath her blankets and rolling over to face the wall. She is asleep again within minutes. Andrée stays with her until her breathing softens, removing her hair from her face, pulling the blankets up around her chin, experiencing something she’s not felt before. She looks at Josie, and her heart skips a beat. The weight of responsibility of caring for this little girl stirs something in her—a mixture of fear but also a fierce determination she’s never felt before. This child will survive. She will do everything in her power to make it so.

When Andrée returns to the living room, Dancer looks up. Her job is vital to the cause: She’s a wireless operator. Their communication link to London. The poise and agility with which she once graced the stage is now performed with her hands.

“Louis and Tina have told us about Joséphine. I am so sorry this has happened to her family.”

Sitting with the others, Andrée fills in the details, telling them how she went to Josie’s apartment earlier to get some of her things, about the devastation she found.

“How did she escape?” Agent asks.

“From what I can understand, it seems her mother stood up to the Gestapo when they didn’t have Joséphine’s name on their list and refused to let them take her. While they were standing around debating what to do, Josie did as her mother had instructed and came to us.”

“What does this mean for you—and what does it mean for us?” Cat asks. He’s right to ask. Andrée, Louis, and Tina exchange glances. They have to protect this child. But they’ve sworn allegiance to the movement to drive the Germans from France.

Andrée speaks first: “She will live here with us until her mother and brother return.”

Louis looks around the group. “The question is how you feel about us having a Jewish girl living here, whether you think she is a threat to our safety and our work,” he says carefully, looking from one to the other.

“I don’t have a problem with her being here. I don’t feel our work is particularly compromised by her presence. It’s you who run the real risk in harboring her,” Agent says.

The others nod in agreement.

“Tell me her name again?” he asks.

“Joséphine . . . Josie,” says Tina. The tenderness in her voice is obvious to all.

“How . . . how can this be happening in our city?” Cat gets up and paces the room.

“We all feel the same way. Don’t ever put a gun in my hands, for I will surely use it,” Tina says heatedly.

Louis smiles. “Ma femme, I believe you. You others, make sure my wife is never in possession of a gun, or any weapon, for that matter.”

“How old is the child?” Dancer asks.