high gray wall； grim and forbidding。 In it was a green gate studded
with iron bolts。 Before this the automobile drew suddenly to a halt。
The crew of the armored car tumbled off the rear seat； and one of
them beat upon the green gate。 Marie felt a hand of ice clutch at her
throat。 But she controlled herself。
〃And what is this？〃 she cried gayly。
At her side Captain Thierry was smiling down at her； but his
smile was hateful。
〃It is the prison of St。 Lazare；〃 he said。 〃It is not becoming；〃
he added sternly； 〃that the name of the Countess d'Aurillac
should be made common as the Paris road！〃
Fighting for her life； Marie thrust herself against him； her
arm that throughout the journey had rested on the back of the
driving…seat caressed his shoulders； her lips and the violet eyes
were close to his。
〃Why should you care？〃 she whispered fiercely。 〃You have me！ Let
the Count d'Aurillac look after the honor of his wife himself。〃
The charming Thierry laughed at her mockingly。
〃He means to；〃 he said。 〃I am the Count d'Aurillac！〃
THE DESERTER
In Salonika； the American consul； the Standard Oil man； and
the war correspondents formed the American colony。 The
correspondents were waiting to go to the front。 Incidentally；
as we waited； the front was coming rapidly toward us。 There
was 〃Uncle〃 Jim； the veteran of many wars； and of all the
correspondents； in experience the oldest and in spirit the
youngest； and there was the Kid； and the Artist。 The Kid
jeered at us； and proudly described himself as the only Boy
Reporter who jumped from a City Hall assignment to cover a
European War。 〃I don't know strategy；〃 he would boast； 〃neither
does the Man at Home。 He wants 'human interest' stuff； and I give
him what he wants。 I write exclusively for the subway guard and
the farmers in the wheat belt。 When you fellows write about the
'Situation；' they don't understand it。 Neither do you。 Neither does
Venizelos or the King。 I don't understand it myself。 So； I write my
people heart…to…heart talks about refugees and wounded； and what
kind of ploughs the Servian peasants use； and that St。 Paul wrote
his letters to the Thessalonians from the same hotel where I write
mine； and I tell 'em to pronounce Salonika 'eeka；' and not put
the accent on the 'on。' This morning at the refugee camp I found
all the little Servians of the Frothingham unit in American Boy
Scout uniforms。 That's my meat。 That's 'home week' stuff。 You
fellows write for the editorial page； and nobody reads it。 I write
for the man that turns first to Mutt and Jeff； and then looks to see
where they are running the new Charlie Chaplin release。 When
that man has to choose between 'our military correspondent' and
the City Hall Reporter； he chooses me！〃
The third man was John； 〃Our Special Artist。〃 John could write
a news story； too； but it was the cartoons that had made him
famous。 They were not comic page； but front page cartoons； and
before making up their minds what they thought； people waited to
see what their Artist thought。 So； it was fortunate his thoughts
were as brave and clean as they were clever。 He was the original
Little Brother to the Poor。 He was always giving away money。
When we caught him； he would prevaricate。 He would say the man
was a college chum； that he had borrowed the money from him；
and that this was the first chance he had had to pay it back。 The Kid
suggested it was strange that so many of his college chums should
at the same moment turn up； dead broke； in Salonika； and that
half of them should be women。
John smiled disarmingly。 〃It was a large college；〃 he explained；
〃and coeducational。〃 There were other Americans； Red Cross
doctors and nurses just escaped through the snow from the
Bulgars； and hyphenated Americans who said they had taken
out their first papers。 They thought hyphenated citizens were
so popular with us； that we would pay their passage to New York。
In Salonika they were transients。 They had no local standing。 They
had no local lying…down place； either； or place to eat； or to wash；
although they did not look as though that worried them； or place
to change their clothes。 Or clothes to change。 It was because we
had clothes to change； and a hotel bedroom； instead of a bench in
a cafe； that we were ranked as residents and from the Greek police
held a 〃permission to sojourn。〃 Our American colony was a very
close corporation。 We were only six Americans against 300；000
British； French； Greek； and Servian soldiers； and 120；000 civilian
Turks； Spanish Jews； Armenians； Persians； Egyptians； Albanians；
and Arabs； and some twenty more other races that are not listed。
We had arrived in Salonika before the rush； and at the Hotel Hermes
on the water…front had secured a vast room。 The edge of the stone
quay was not forty feet from us； the only landing steps directly
opposite our balcony。 Everybody who arrived on the Greek
passenger boats from Naples or the Piraeus； or who had shore
leave from a man…of…war； transport； or hospital ship； was raked
by our cameras。 There were four windowsone for each of us
and his work table。 It was not easy to work。 What was the use？
The pictures and stories outside the windows fascinated us； but
when we sketched them or wrote about them； they only proved
us inadequate。 All day long the pinnaces； cutters； gigs； steam
launches shoved and bumped against the stone steps； marines
came ashore for the mail； stewards for fruit and fish； Red Cross
nurses to shop； tiny midshipmen to visit the movies； and the
sailors and officers of the Russian； French； British； Italian；
and Greek war…ships to stretch their legs in the park of the Tour
Blanche； or to cramp them under a cafe table。 Sometimes the
ambulances blocked the quay and the wounded and frost…bitten
were lifted into the motor…boats； and sometimes a squad of marines
lined the landing stage； and as a coffin under a French or English
flag was borne up the stone steps stood at salute。 So crowded
was the harbor that the oars of the boatmen interlocked。
Close to the stone quay； stretched along the three…mile circle；
were the fishing smacks； beyond them； so near that the anchor
chains fouled； were the passenger ships with gigantic Greek flags
painted on their sides； and beyond them transports from Marseilles；
Malta； and Suvla Bay； black colliers； white hospital ships； burning
green electric lights； red…bellied tramps and freighters； and； hemming
them in； the grim； mouse…colored destroyers； submarines； cruisers；
dreadnaughts。 At times； like a wall； the cold fog rose between us
and the harbor； and again the curtain would suddenly be ripped
asunder； and the sun would flash on the brass work of the fleet；
on the white wings of the aeroplanes； on the snow…draped
shoulders of Mount Olympus。 We often speculated as to how
in the early days the gods and goddesses； dressed as they were；
or as they were not； survived the snows of Mount Olympus。 Or
was it only their resort for the summer？
It got about that we had a vast room to ourselves； where one
might obtain a drink； or a sofa for the night； or even money to
cable for money。 So； we had many strange visitors； some half
starved； half frozen； with terrible tales of the Albanian trail；
of the Austrian prisoners fallen by the wayside； of the mountain
passes heaped with dead； of the doctors and nurses wading
waist…high in snow…drifts and for food killing the ponies。 Some
of our visitors wanted to get their names in the American papers
so that the folks at home would know they were still alive；
others wanted us to keep their names out of the papers； hoping
the police would think them dead； another； convinced it was of
pressing news value； 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 motor…cycle； 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 thir