“No, because they believe the damage was caused by a German workman,” Tomaso said. “No Italians were there. So the German was judged careless and the Gestapo colonel had him brought down here at once. He ordered him shot. So the guard is not increased. Only a corporal is in charge at night. There are nine sentries under him.”
They stopped and listened. Up above on the hill they heard the tramp of men’s feet, the calling of orders in German.
“Come on,” Dick said. “We might as well make them take as long as possible to find me. Where can we go?”
“I—I was going to the opera,” Tomaso said. “I don’t know now if I should go.”
“Of course,” Dick said. “You must not be found with me if I am caught. But wait—where is the opera house?”
“In the next block—to the right,” Tomaso replied.
“Can we get there without crossing in front of the villa?” Dick asked.
“Yes, around in back,” the old man said, grabbing his arm, “but we must hurry.”
He led Dick behind the rear wing to the western side, cut behind a small house not far from the villa, brushed aside a dog who started to bark at the next house, and then stopped at a narrow street. Between two houses Dick could see what must be the opera house, a large building with numerous lights in it, and people already going in the front doors.
Dick hid the German uniform under his loose peasant’s coat and spoke quietly to Tomaso.