A very punctilious officer, who was a long way from the resources of civilization, sent one day for the sergeant and asked him how long it was since the men had changed their shirts.
"One month," was the reply.
"But the regulations say that the men must change their shirts once a week, at least."
"They haven't any shirts to change into, sir."
"Then, dash it, let them change shirts with each other!"
TE
News of a Friend Tne jaws of the chief of Secret Police set like a jelly. With one hand he turned over ihe pages of the report before him: with the other he cast a grim glance at the lovely girl Who sat opposite him, idly swinging a dainty Ha!" he rasped. "You have not been. so clever this time, have you, baroness?"
"Tra la la!" she replied, swinging her foot higher.
"No amount of tra-la-la will avail you now," he hissed. "We know you have the pape:
"Pouah!" she retorted, and gaily swung her foot so high that her shoe shot out of the window.
"And pouch to you!" tersed the chief of police.
Will Blinka's shoe, whose hollow heel contains the Papers, safely reach her colleague in the street outside? Will Blinka herself bore a way to freedom with the miniature, pneumatic drill concealed in her hair? Will the receipt of the Papers in London spell ruin for the Spy who, disguised as Mr. Chamberlain, often upsets the Cabinet by making them think they are seeing double?
There is but one correct answer—Yes!
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.