Mary looked to her father for the answer to this strange problem. What he said puzzled her more than a little.
“There is no reason why you should not take this with you. At my house and the airport you will have ample protection.
“You, of course, must take the risk of its being destroyed by the fortunes of war.” He spoke to the Arab.
“It shall be in the hands of God and a lady,” was the reply. “If God wills its destruction, I shall bare my head. As for the lady, I trust her.”
“It is then so arranged.” The Colonel re-wrapped the roll. “The roll must be in my hands at midnight.”
“But, sir, the plane does not—”
The Colonel held up a hand. “None but God is permitted to know the hour of departure. Midnight—how do you say?”
“It is the will of God.” The Arab was gone.
The two hours that followed will linger long in Mary’s memory. “I never dreamed of anything like this when I volunteered for this trip,” she said to Captain Ramsey, as they swung away for the dance.
“You expected only blood, sweat, and tears,” he replied soberly.