"All the better, but whatever you do, don't carry that grip with you. Might as well write who you are on your back. Much better carry a tool or so in your hand as if you were off to a job in a hurry; and she might have a small market basket. She'll be your wife till ye reach Lingen; and don't forget that most Germans treat their wives pretty gruffly. There are plenty of spies about with sharp eyes for trifles of the sort. They might even see that you don't eat like them. I should have known you by it," she declared.
We both laughed as we thanked her again; and soon afterwards she took Nessa away to see about the change of dress.
We had fallen on our feet in all truth. Her help was literally invaluable. Every one of her suggestions was practical and opened my eyes to the many little difficult details and pitfalls which had never occurred to us when planning our escape.
An hour or two later she came back saying she had left Nessa making some few necessary alterations in the dress and wanted to speak to me alone. "Just like me, I've put my foot in it with her. I told her what's only the truth, that you'll never be able to get over the frontier together, and she swears nothing shall make her go alone. You must talk her round or——" and she shook her head doubtfully.
"That'll be all right."
"Perhaps. She's just the bravest darling in the world, but my, what a will!" and she threw up her hands and smiled. "The frontier men will always wink at a woman crossing, but if they catch a man trying it they shoot him and done with it. Now what'll you do if she won't give in?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Well, I'll tell you. Go to that factory at Ellendorf and get a job. You'll both be safe there; they'll find you a cottage, and you'll have to wait till a chance comes to get away together. Tell my brother-in-law you're going there and that you can do his work from there. But if she sticks out, don't try anything from Lingen; he's sure to hear about it, and then you may look out. Don't forget that and think that because he speaks you fair, he's soft. He isn't. He daren't be, either."
She went on to give me a host of details about the smuggling, and I took an opportunity to ask about the farmer whose car I had repaired.
"Old Farmer Glocken, you mean. He's deep as a well and as dangerous as St. Patrick found the snakes. If he can make use of you, all right; he'll do it so long as it pays him; but he'd sell his own wife, poor wretch, for a few marks. Don't go near him."