It would not do to say he was Norwegian again; it was too near to Germany.
'I am from the south,' he said.
'From Toulouse.
But I am staying with my son in Montmirail.
Then we got separated in Montargis; I do not know what has become of him.
The children I was with are my grandchildren.
They are now in the Place.
They have been very good children, m'sieur, but it will be good when we can go home.'
He rambled on, getting into the stride of his tale, easily falling into the garrulity of an old man.
The doctor turned away rudely.
'Well, take your brat,' he said.
'You can go home now.
There will be no more fighting.'
He went back into the tent.
The old man took the little boy by the hand and led him round the church, passing on the other side of the shop that had sold children's clothes.
He found Rose standing more or less where he had left her, with Sheila and Pierre.
There was no sign of Ronnie.
He said anxiously to her: 'Rose, what has become of Ronnie?
Where is he?'
She said: 'M'sieur, he has been so naughty.
He wanted to see the tanks, but I told him it was wrong that he should go.
I told him, m'sieur, that he was a very, very naughty little boy and that you would be very cross with him, m'sieur.
But he ran off, all alone.'
Sheila piped up, loud and clear, in English: 'May I go and see the tanks, too, Mr Howard?'
Mechanically, he said in French: 'Not this evening.
I told you that you were all to stay here.'
He looked around, irresolute.
He did not know whether to leave the children where they were and go and look for Ronnie, or to take them with him.
Either course might bring the other children into danger.
If he left them they might get into further trouble.
He took hold of the pram and pushed it ahead of him.
'Come this way,' he said.
Pierre edged up to him and whispered:
'May I push?'
It was the first time that the old man had heard the little boy volunteer a remark.
He surrendered the handle of the pram.
'Of course,' he said.
'Rose, help him push.'
He walked beside them towards the parked tanks and lorries, anxiously scanning the crowd.
There were German soldiers all about the transport, grey, weary men, consciously endeavouring to fraternise with a suspicious population.
Some of them were cleaning up their clothes, some tending their machines.
Others had little phrase books in their hands, and these were trying to make conversation with the crowd.
The French peasants seemed sullen and uncommunicative.
Sheila said suddenly: 'There's Ronnie, over there!'
The old man turned, but could not see him. 'Where is he?'
Rose said: 'I see him - oh, m'sieur, what a naughty little boy.
There, m'sieur, right inside the tank, there - with the German soldiers!'
A cold fear entered Howard's heart.
His eyesight for long distances was not too good.
He screwed his eyes up and peered in the direction Rose was pointing.