It was too late to draw back, and to do so would have raised suspicion; he stood aside and waited till the German had finished his purchases.
Then, as he stood there in the background, he saw that the German was the orderly from the hospital.
A little bundle of clothes lay on the counter before him, a yellow jersey, a pair of brown children's shorts, socks, and a vest.
'Cinquante quatre, quatre vingt dix,' said the stout old woman at the counter.
The German did not understand her rapid way of speech.
She repeated it several times; then he pushed a little pad of paper towards her, and she wrote the sum on the pad for him.
He took it and studied it.
Then he wrote his own name and the unit carefully beneath. He tore off the sheet and gave it to her.
'You will be paid later,' he said, in difficult French.
He gathered up the garments.
She protested. 'I cannot let you take away the clothes unless I have the money.
My husband - he would be very much annoyed.
He would be furious.
Truly, monsieur - that is not possible at all.'
The German said stolidly: 'It is good.
You will be paid.
That is a good requisition.'
She said angrily: 'It is not good at all, that.
It is necessary that you should pay with money.'
The man said: 'That is money, good German money.
If you do not believe it, I will call the Military Police.
As for your husband, he had better take our German money and be thankful.
Perhaps he is a Jew?
We have a way with Jews.'
The woman stared at him, dumb.
There was a momentary silence in the shop; then the hospital orderly gathered up his purchases and swaggered out.
The woman remained staring after him, uncertainly fingering the piece of paper.
Howard went forward and distracted her.
She roused herself and showed him children's pants.
With much advice from Rose on the colour and design he chose a pair for Sheila, paid three francs fifty for them, and put them on her in the shop.
The woman stood fingering the money.
'You are not German, monsieur?' she said heavily. She glanced down at the money in her hand.
He shook his head.
'I thought perhaps you were.
Flemish?'
It would never do to admit his nationality, but at any moment one of the children might betray him.
He moved towards the door.
'Norwegian,' he said at random.
'My country has also suffered.'
'I thought you were not French,' she said.
'I do not know what will become of us.'
He left the shop and went a little way up the Paris road, hoping to avoid the people.
German soldiers were still pouring into the town.
He walked about for a time in the increasing crowd, tense and fearful of betrayal every moment.
At last it was six o'clock; he went back to the hospital.
He left the children by the church.
'Keep them beside you,' he said to Rose.
'I shall only be at the hospital a little while.
Stay here till I come back.'
He went into the tent, tired and worn with apprehension.