Evening star., 1939-12-31

she knew that any one who could
so easily cut official red tape must
WELD a powerful influence.
Not Too Young.
Claire was young-but not too
young. Twenty-four, she had writ
ten on the QUESTIONABLE she filled
out when she entered the consular
service. She was not too tall, nor
on the other hand too short either
about feet 4.
A breeze with a tang of sharpness
was blowing as she stood looking
down on the deck, searching the
crowd for sight Of her employer,
and she was glad that her heavy
coat was with her bags in the small
stateroom she had been fortunate
to get, even though. it was shared
with two other women and a child.
November would probably be pretty
cold on the North Atlantic.
She tucked a vagrant lock of her
curly brown hair back under her
small brown sailor hat as she
glanced at the watch on her wrist.
II wonder where he is?" she asked
herself. Its getting late"
There was increasing activity on
the dock. Porters were scurrying
up the gangplank laden with bags
of late arrivals, and a small crane
creaked as it swung a huge cradle
of interlaced rope piled high with
trunks. All other loading had long
since been completed. The st. Croix
was about ready to put to sea.
Delayed by Conference.
A line of soldiers stood at ease be-
yond the gangplank. Claire noted
their camoufaged helmets strapped
to the packs on their backs, and the
gas masks which swung from straps
about their necks. Her own mask,
which Cameron had bought for her,
was at the Paris hotel where they
had lived. She had left it when she
took taxi to catch the boat train,
with instructions for the manager
to turn it over to some one who
might not be able to afford such a
good one. It had cost S., and was
guaranteed to be effective against
all types of gas fumes. Some, she
knew, that sold for lesser prices,
guaranteed the wearer only against
mustard and tear gas. If the enemy
should drop chlorine or something
equally lethal, the cheaper masks
would be useless.
Again, Claire glanced nervously
at her watch. Fifteen minutes! Not
a sign of Cameron yet, and no word
from him. Wild visions of what
might have happened to him arose
to confront her. The plane, in
which an army officer was to fly him
to La Havre, might have crashed!
Why hadn't he taken the train?
She knew the answer to that ques-
ton before she asked it Of herself.
Cameron had explained as she was
leaving, when he handed her both
their tickets. A last-minute con-
ference, which might take as long
as an hour, had been called. He
must attend. The French govern
ment had put fast plane at his
disposal, so that he would reach the
boat almost as soon as she.
Wartime Precautions.
"All ashore-all visitors ashore!"
a boy in a brass-buttoned red coat
and smartly creased blue trousers
called as he rang a musical chime.
It was almost a useless admoni-
ton, as no one was aboard who
wasn't sailing. The porters were
not permitted to come any further
than the boat end of the gangplank,
where they turned their baggage
burdens over to stewards. This was
wartime, and every one who came
aboard was closely scrutinized and
his baggage opened and examined
before it was carried onto the ship.
France was taking no chance Of
treachery. It had no desire to lose
this tremendous shin built At 4 cost