the baby wailing harder than ever. But the office was at least warm.
Some of her failing courage came back as she moved, following her papers,
round the table. They were given back to her at last, and she went out.
She had passed the first ordeal.

Suitcase in hand she wandered down the stone jetty. The Boulogne boat
she passed, and kept on. At the very end, dark and sinister, lay another
boat. It had no lights. The tide was in, and its deck lay almost flush
with the pier. Sara Lee walked on toward it until a voice spoke to her
out of the darkness and near at hand.

"Your boat is back there, madam."

"I know. Thank you. I am just walking about."

The petty officer--he was a petty officer, though Sara Lee had never
heard the term--was inclined to be suspicious. Under excuse of lighting
his pipe he struck a match, and Sara Lee's young figure stood out in full
relief. His suspicions died away with the flare.

"Bad night, miss," he offered.

"Very," said Sara Lee, and turned back again.

This time, bewildered and uneasy, she certainly saw Henri. But he
ignored her. He was alone, and smoking one of his interminable
cigarettes. He had not said he was crossing, and why had he not spoken
to her? He wandered past down the pier, and she lost him in the shadows.
When he came back he paused near her, and at last saluted and spoke.