You will, if you agree, take the
midnight train for Folkestone. At the railway station here you will
be searched. At Folkestone a board, sitting in an office on the quay,
will examine your passport."
"Does any one in Boulogne speak English?" Sara Lee inquired nervously.
Somehow that babel of French at the Savoy had frightened her. Her
little phrase book seemed pitifully inadequate for the great things
in her mind.
"That hardly matters," said Henri, smiling faintly. "Because I think
you shall not go to Boulogne."
"Not go!" She stopped dead, under the monument, and looked up at him.
"The place for you to go, to start from, is Calais," Henri explained.
He paused, to let pass two lovers, a man in khaki and a girl. "But
Calais is difficult. It is under martial law--a closed city. From
Boulogne to Calais would be perhaps impossible."
Sara Lee was American and her methods were direct.
"How can I get to Calais?"
"Will you take the chance I spoke of?"
"For goodness' sake," said Sara Lee in an exasperated tone, "how can I
tell you until I know what it is?"
Henri told her. He even, standing under a street lamp, drew a small
sketch for her, to make it clear.
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