Evening star., 1939-12-31
CHAPTER I.

the dock was obviously an American.
The smart alertness Of her face
rejecting a quickness OF mind, the
freshness of her complexion, the
trimness of her figure revealed her
nationality as plainly as though she
had worn an American flag in the
lapel of her chic brown tailored suit.
She was grateful for the fact that
she was a daughter of Uncle Sam.
It meant a lot right now, with Eu-
rope locked in bloody struggle, to
be citizen of a neutral coun-
try, free to sail away from the con-
slant fear of crashing shells hurled
from high-1ying Nazi bombers.
She was grateful that powerful
government had arranged with the
Companie Generate Transatlantique
for one final trip across the Atlantic,
daring the perils of lurking U-boats
and sea raiders, to evacuate the last
Americans remaining in France who
wanted to 60 home.
1t was reassuring to know that
1ust outside the harbor squadron
of sleek grey American destroyers
rode the swells, waiting for the St.
Croix, and that they would form
Gordon about the huge liner to give
safe convoy within shouting distance
of Pier 81 in New York.
Hello, Broadway, good-by France" :"
she hummed, reversing the phrase
of George Cohan's rousing ballad
of the previous World War.
Claire Dutton had right to be
happy, to sing.
Home to Safety.
She was going home to peace and
safety after weeks of nerve-tearing
waiting for AFRAID alarms, of see
ing gay young men clad in horizon
blue, marching off to the front to
face the might of Hitler's hordes
and to find, perhaps, death at the
end of the road.
Better still, she was going home
on the same boat with her boss-Bill
Cameron. A warming pleasant feel
ing came over her as she thought
of him-dear Bill Not that she
ever had addressed him in that
fashion during the months she had
been employed as his confidential
secretary. Indeed not. Their rela-
tions were as strictly conventional
as they should be between employer
and employe. He always was Mr..
Cameron to her, and if he ever
thought of her as any one but Miss
Dutton, she didn't know it. But
there was no law against cherish
ing dreams, dreams she jealousy
guarded. There was nothing to pre-
vent her thinking of him as dear
Bill in her innermost thoughts, and
mentally embracing the image of
the man, who, at the age Of IS, was
one of the most important men in
Washington.
His was work of a highly conf
dental nature; he served as dip
lomatic liaison officer under the di-
rect orders of the President. OFF,
cially, he had no standing. 1t had
to be that way, but it was Cameron
and several others like him who
really were the brains of American
diplomacy abroad They were the
ones who had secret meetings with
the chancellors and premiers-gain-
ing an advantage here, yielding a
point there, until finally when it
came time for the ambassadors to
get together for drawing up formal
agreements, all the preliminaries and
under-cover maneuverings had been
taken care of.
Appearance Deceiving.
To look at Cameron, you never
would have suspected him of being
what he was-a brilliant interna-
tionalist, a super-diplomat. In ap-
pearance he was typical of New
England at its cultural best, with a
soft, slurring accent which stamped
him as clearly as a printed label
with the Back Bay district of Boston
Tall, rather slender, he had none
Of the appearance of an athlete, but
Claire knew that he had been
letterman at Harvard. She had
happened upon an old photograph of
him in track suit in college year
book she found in his library one
day.
His hairline was receding a trifle,
accentuating his ascetic, intellectual
appearance to which his rather
sharp nose and deep-set. gray-blue
eyes also contributed. Claire espe-
cially liked his mouth, which more
often than not was twisted into an
1ngratiating grin. a disarming grin
which often masked the seriousness
OF his purposes.
That those high in power appre-
ciated his unusual qualities, the girl
knew well, and the patronizing man
ner some of the lesser function
aries with high-sounding titles
adopted toward him. because off,
cially they outranked him, amused
her greatly.
IT they knew, as she did, how often
he was called in for quiet conferences
with men whom the snobbish func-
tionaries held in the greatest awe,
they very soon would mend their
manners. But that was part of
Cameron's value-the almost COM
plete anonymity of his services.
Traces Of Back Bay.
He spoke French, Italian and Ger
man with trace of his Back Bay
accent which was so firmly ingrained
he never would entirely eliminate it.
She knew he was proficient in the
languages, because she was, too.
That is, she spoke and read French
and German like native and knew
enough Italian to recognize that Bill
Cameron was a master of that
tongue also. That was how she had
happened to get her job with him.
She had specialized in languages in
college and when the death of her
widowed mother had left her alone
in her senior year, she made use of
her training and gifts to get posi-
ton in the consular service.
1t was while she was completing
an intensive course of training at
Washington that Cameron suddenly
sent for her. He questioned her
searchingly in French and German
and she replied in the languages he