ing with a courtyard. It was a large room on the top floor, with a
long table occupied by busy orderlies opening and stamping letters with
astonishing rapidity. At the back, flanking an open balcony over whose
balustrade I could see the blue Mediterranean and a flawless sapphire
sky, were two roll-top desks concealing two officers whose polished bald
heads shone above stacks of papers. At the deferential insistence of an
orderly, one of the heads rose, and a large, ruddy Yorkshire face
examined the intruder. In some diffidence I explained the delicate
nature of my mission. I opened my parcel and displayed, with the pride
of a parent, how _Aliens_ had grown. The officer rose to his feet, a
tall, strong, north-country figure, and looked keenly at me over his
glasses. Was I a British subject? What was the nature of the manuscript?
What was the name of my transport? What was my rank? And so on. To all
of which I gave courteous and, I hope, truthful answers. "Well, there's
a great deal of it, you know," he remarked. I bowed. I knew, having
written it. "Well, call in a week's time." I retired, silently blessing
the British Army Officer for his blunt courtesy, his admirable brevity
and matchless common sense.

And I called in a week's time. It appeared that the Captain had gone
through _Aliens_ and was satisfied that it divulged nothing of military
importance, nor did it provide any comfort for the King's enemies. An
orderly, a fattish person with a fine mustache and scorched knees, was
commanded to secure, seal and register the parcel. The tall officer with
the good-humoured country-gentleman's face came to the balcony and
discussed for a moment the production of literature under difficulties.
"You know, we have very strict orders," he remarked, looking down
thoughtfully. "We must be most careful ... h--m ... Neutral countries
... America." He seemed to regard the idea of America with misgiving. I
agreed that America was food for thought. "And you write books at sea?"
he inquired. Yes, I said, anywhere, everywhere. He nodded. "It is, you
know," I added slyly, "our national art." He looked grave at this and
said he supposed so. By this time the orderly had tied and sealed
_Aliens_ in so many places that I pitied anyone who tried to tamper with
it; and so, with an expression of my profound appreciation, I retired.
The officer bowed, and the orderly and I clattered down stairs and made
our way into the Rue de la Poste. He was a L