Then she added a postscript, of course.

"The War Office is not letting people cross to Calais just now. But
I am going to do it anyhow. It is perfectly simple. And when I get
over I shall write and tell you how.

"S.L."

It was the next day that an indignant official in the censor's office
read that postscript, and rose in his wrath and sent a third
Undersomething-or-other to look up Sara Lee at Morley's. But by this
time she was embarked on the big adventure; and by the time a cable
reached Calais there was no trace of Sara Lee.

During the afternoon she called up Mr. Travers at his office, and rather
gathered that he did not care to use the telephone during business hours.

"I just wanted to tell you that you need not bother about me any more,"
she said. "I am being sent over and I think everything is all right."

He was greatly relieved. Mrs. Travers had not fully indorsed his
encomiums of the girl. She had felt that no really nice girl would
travel so far on so precarious an errand, particularly when she was
alone. And how could one tell, coming from America, how her sympathies
really lay? She might be of German parentage--the very worst sort,
because they spoke American. It was easy enough to change a name.

Nevertheless, Mr. Travers felt a trifle low in his mind when he hung up
the receiver. He said twice to himself: "Twenty pounds!" And at last
he put four sovereigns in an envelope and sent them to her anonymously
by messenger. Sara Lee guessed whence they came, but she respected the
manner of the gift and did not thank him. It was almost the first gold
money she had ever seen.

She was very carefully searched at the railway station that night and
found that her American Red Cross button, which had come with her dollar
subscription to the association, made the matron inspector rather
kindly inclined. Nevertheless, she took off Sara Lee's shoes, and ran
over the lining of her coat, and quite ruined the maid's packing of the
suitcase.

"You are going to Boulogne?" asked the matron inspector.

Sara Lee did not like to lie.

"Wherever the boat takes me," she said with smile.

The matron smiled too.

"I shouldn't be nervous, miss," she said. "It's a chance, of course,
but they have not done much damage yet."

It was after midnight then, and a cold fog made the station a gloomy
thing of blurred yellow lights and raw chill. A few people moved about,
mostly officers in uniform. Half a dozen m