"A comb and a toothbrush, a few hairpins and a pair of scissors. That too much?"
"You don't want your assistant to have long hair, do you? And it might be injudicious to worry a barber."
We both laughed. "I never thought of that. By Jove, it would be a beastly shame to have to cut off that lovely wig of yours." She had most beautiful hair of a rich dark auburn.
"A thousand times better than an internment camp," she replied, sobered by the mere thought of it. But only for the moment; she was too wildly excited at the prospect of going home for anything to damp her spirits. "Why, I'd do it only to play the part of Hans Bulich for an hour."
"Your assistant that hopes to be, of course. You're surely not going to begin by forgetting essentials?"
"Well, don't forget again. Shall I spell it for you?"
"Don't give me any of your lip, 'Hans,'" I retorted smartly.
"All right, matey, keep your hand on the brake," she replied in her excellent assistant's tone; and worked in a number of motor parts to show she had been swotting them up as I had suggested.
"You'll do, boy," I said, laughing. "And now let's remember this isn't going to be all mere chaff," and I told her my plan. She was to be at the station a quarter of an hour before the train started and look out for me in the waiting-room. "If things go right with von Gratzen, that'll be the ladies' room; if not, then the third class. I'll manage to 'phone you in time for the necessary make-up. As for the rest, it's up to us to manage the best we can."
"If we have to go disguised, are you going to risk the mail train then?"
"There won't be any risk to speak of now that I've got this;" tapping my pocket. "Of course we can't go all the way because I haven't a passport; but we'll get as near the frontier as we can. Osnabrück, probably; but I'll have the tickets all right. And now I must be off."
"I wish my silly heart wouldn't beat like a racing 40 h.p., but I'll have it in good order when we meet again."
"It's a good thing I don't make it beat, eh?"
"Hands off, matey," replied "Hans," but with a very un-boylike blush.
"You must drop that habit, young 'un. You've got to think about other 40 h.p.'s, you know;" and with that I went, little thinking of all that was to happen before we met again.