e, desired us
to advertise the fact that he had invented a poisonous gas for use
in the trenches. With difficulty we prevented him from casting it
adrift in our room. Or, he had for sale a second-hand motorcycle,
or he would accept a position as barkeeper, or for five francs
would sell a state secret that, once made public, in a month would
end the war. It seemed cheap at the price.

Each of us had his "scouts" to bring him the bazaar rumor, the
Turkish bath rumor, the cafe rumor. Some of our scouts journeyed
as far afield as Monastir and Doiran, returning to drip snow on
the floor, and to tell us tales, one-half of which we refused to
believe, and the other half the censor refused to pass. With each
other's visitors it was etiquette not to interfere. It would have
been like tapping a private wire. When we found John sketching a
giant stranger in a cap and coat of wolf skin we did not seek to
know if he were an Albanian brigand, or a Servian prince
_incognito_, and when a dark Levantine sat close to the Kid,
whispering, and the Kid banged on his typewriter, we did not
listen.

So, when I came in one afternoon and found a strange American
youth writing at John's table, and no one introduced us, I took it
for granted he had sold the Artist an "exclusive" story, and asked
no questions. But I could not help hearing what they said. Even
though I tried to drown their voices by beating on the Kid's
typewriter. I was taking my third lesson, and I had printed, "I
Amm 5w writjng This, 5wjth my own lilly w?ite handS," when I heard
the Kid saying:

"You can beat the game this way. Let John buy you a ticket to the
Piraeus. If you go from one Greek port to another you don't need a
vise. But, if you book from here to Italy, you must get a permit
from the Italian consul, and our consul, and the police. The plot
is to get out of the war zone, isn't it? Well, then, my dope is to
get out quick, and map the rest of your trip when you're safe in
Athens."

It was no business of mine, but I had to look up. The stranger was
now pacing the floor. I noticed that while his face was almost
black with tan, his upper lip was quite white. I noticed also that
he had his hands in the pockets of one of John's blue serge suits,
and that the pink silk shirt he wore was one that once had
belonged to the Kid. Except for the pink shirt, in the appearance
of the young man there was nothing unusual. He was of a familiar
type. He looked like a young bus