"Did someone help you a few days ago?" Murphy interrupted the man's halting narrative, asking directly.
The man froze for a moment, and the other refugees nearby exchanged glances.
A woman holding a child spoke up timidly, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes… yes, there was a kind young lady… about… ten days ago? She had a few people with her and stopped here for a little while… She gave us some rye cakes, and a small jar of ointment for frostbite and scrapes…"
As she spoke, she subconsciously touched a scabbed-over wound on the face of the child in her arms.
"What did she look like? What did she say?" Murphy asked.
