Slowly, silently, Amy crawled forward. She could see a little light now, coming from the right side of the tunnel. Above her the ceiling had risen, and she could have stood up, but something told her to stay low.

Some distance ahead, she could see an arch that led to a gallery. A large group was gathered inside. Each person wore a black armband with a crooked white cross on it.

Amy was familiar with the symbol from her history textbook. It was the symbol of the German Nazi party in World War II. A swastika.

“Arrêtez!” a voice behind her said sharply. “Stop!”

Amy leaped up and turned, expecting to see a police officer. But it wasn’t.

It was Sébastien, the guide who had led them on the tour of the public Catacombs.

“You should not be here,” he scolded her.

“I know, I know,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry.” She remembered her encounter with the police in the subway and tried the same tactic. “I’m just a stupid tourist.” She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I give tours of the Catacombs,” Sébastien said curtly. “And I also patrol the tunnels.”

“Then you know about the people in that gallery over there, don’t you? Something very creepy is going on! They’re full of hate. They want to destroy everyone who isn’t like them.”

“I will take care of this. It is nothing for you to think about. Now please follow me.”

“No thanks, I know my own way out,” Amy said quickly. She scurried past Sébastien, hoping he wouldn’t notice how rapidly she moved in the darkness. She wanted to get away.

She was extremely grateful for her powerful sense of direction. A normal person could easily have gotten completely lost. But she found her way back to Christophe’s gallery—just in time to see two real uniformed police officers escorting them all out.

Amy gulped. Were they all going to be arrested now? She hesitated. But staying down here certainly wasn’t an option, especially with those crazy people in the other gallery. So she joined the group and listened to the police officers’ stern lecture as they led them out the way they’d come in.

But they weren’t arrested. “This entrance will be sealed today,” one policeman told them. “Do not attempt to find another way into the Catacombs. Unless, of course, you wish to encounter the fate of Philibert Aspairt.”

Amy recalled the story of the man who had gotten lost in the Catacombs, not to be found for eleven years. She definitely didn’t want to end her days like him. In fact, now that she’d seen the Catacombs twice, she was perfectly content never to see them again.

The police, however, went back inside. Amy assumed they would continue to patrol the tunnels, and she hoped they’d find and arrest the Nazi group.

Christophe’s friends dispersed. Christophe himself was comforting a slightly shaken-up Monica, and Amy and Annie walked together. Amy couldn’t stop thinking about her experience.

“I should have told the police something.”

“Told them what?”

Amy described what she had seen in the tunnels. “Annie, it was so foul! Those people were wearing Nazi armbands! They were talking about destroying anyone who isn’t white or completely healthy.”

“I have heard that many political groups have meetings in the Catacombs,” Annie said.

“This wasn’t exactly political, Annie. They were Nazis! The Nazis murdered twelve million people in World War Two! Six million Jews, plus Gypsies, the handicapped, gay people—anyone they felt was inferior to them.”

“Yes, yes, I know all that,” Annie said, almost impatiently. “It was Nazi Germany that occupied France, remember? I do know my French history.”

“Sorry.” Amy remembered how annoyed Annie had been at Andy for knowing more about Paris than she did. Now Amy was doing the same thing, trying to teach Annie her own history. “But aren’t you shocked, to think that there are still Nazis running around?” she asked.

Annie was philosophical about it. “There are many unusual groups of people in the world, Amy. People with different attitudes, religions, ideas. They are free to express their beliefs here in France, just as in the United States.”

She was right. Amy had seen news programs about the Ku Klux Klan, a bunch of American fanatics who dressed in long white sheets and hoods and marched around proclaiming that black people were inferior to white people. The world was full of crazies. But even the dumbest maniacs had the right to express their beliefs.

As long as they didn’t harm anyone.

She tried not to think about the Nazis for the rest of the day. Monica and Christophe went off by themselves, while Annie took Amy window shopping. That proved to be a good distraction for a while, but Amy couldn’t completely erase the scene in the Catacombs. And she wanted to think about it.

At dinnertime Annie left her to go home. She invited Amy to come along, but Amy declined. She already had plans to meet Andy, which Annie clearly didn’t approve of. It didn’t matter. If Annie and Andy didn’t like each other, Amy would just have to divide her time between them.

Andy was waiting for her at Café Chocolat at seven o’clock. The second he saw her face, he knew something was wrong.

“What’s the matter? What happened?”

Despite her depression, she felt a warm tingle shoot through her. He had to care about her deeply to detect so quickly that she had things on her mind.

“I saw something really strange today,” she began, and told him all about the experience in the Catacombs.

He listened intently. “Did any of the Nazis see you?”

“No … Oh, Andy, what should we do? I didn’t even know Nazis still existed.”

“They’re called neo-Nazis,” Andy said.

“The people I heard in the Catacombs were speaking English,” Amy told him. “But they all had different accents. They were definitely from different countries.”

“They’re all over the place,” Andy said glumly. “Even America.”

“What should we do?” she asked again.

“Nothing.”

She was taken aback. “Nothing? Shouldn’t I go tell the police what I heard?”

Andy shook his head. “Neo-Nazis are ignorant people. Unfortunately, there will always be groups like that around. You can’t take them seriously.”

That was basically what Annie had said. Still, Amy couldn’t take them so lightly. “But Andy,” she said, “what if they start making real efforts to get what they want?”

“Don’t worry so much. Those people are full of talk.” Andy took Amy’s hand. “Look, it’s a beautiful night, we’re in Paris, and we’re finally alone. Let’s go get something to eat.”

They started down the street together. It was nice, walking quietly like this, but there was something else troubling her that she wanted to ask him.

“Andy …”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you like Annie?”

She felt his hand tighten, but this time it wasn’t from affection. “Could we talk about something else?” He sounded really annoyed, and he let out a deep sigh.

“Andy, is something wrong?”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind too.”

“Like what?”

He was silent. Then he said, “Oh, just school stuff. A test coming up, a paper to finish, that sort of thing. I’d rather not discuss it, okay?”

Amy was bewildered. “If we can’t talk about the neo-Nazis, and we can’t talk about Annie, what are we allowed to talk about?”

Andy smiled. “Let’s talk about dinner. Want to try some French pizza?”