“All right,” said Andrews, reaching for his pocketbook. “Shall I pay you a week in advance?”
The woman smiled broadly.
“Si Monsieur desire.... It's that life is so dear nowadays. Poor people like us can barely get along.”
“I know that only too well,” said Andrews.
“Monsieur est etranger....” began the woman in a wheedling tone, when she had received the money.
“Yes. I was only demobilized a short time ago.”
“Aha! Monsieur est demobilise. Monsieur remplira la petite feuille pour la police, n'est-ce pas?”
The woman brought from behind her back a hand that held a narrow printed slip.
“All right. I'll fill it out now,” said Andrews, his heart thumping.
Without thinking what he was doing, he put the paper on the edge of the billiard table and wrote: “John Brown, aged 23. Chicago Ill., Etats-Unis. Musician. Holder of passport No. 1,432,286.”