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This went on for about an hour or two. Then there was a knock on the door, the door opened a crack, and somebody in uniform said: “Follow me.” And we sort of looked at each other, and I said: “I guess we better.” So we followed him, and he said: “Shh...” And he took us out of the house, and he took us down to where we'd left the car. He was a police officer. And they took us to the local police headquarters, where they then tested everything that we had: flashlights, to see if it was really flashlights--they'd hold them against the wall and push the button, thinking it was going to fire [laughter]. And after four, five hours of interrogation and my screaming “I want to talk to my Ambassador” and all that stuff, they finally decided that we were not parachuters, German parachuters. Although the thing that was most incriminating was our papers were in perfect order, and by French reasoning, if your papers are in perfect order, it means that you are, you know--

That you've forged them.

That you've forged them [laughter]. So, that was the most difficult part to get over. And finally they let us go, and then we drove back, and I think that took something like 24 hours driving. I did the driving, and when I got there my hands were about this thick, double the usual size, from sort of holding the wheel this way. So we never did get to Paris. When we were being interrogated by the police, we said: “Where are the Germans?” And they said: “They're entering Paris right now.” That was twelve miles away. So we