 And now, another tale well calculated to keep you in. Night Fairy to Paris by William N. Robson. In the great smoky cavern of Waterless Station in London, there shines a bright and tiny beacon. A neon sign in gayest red which reads Night Fairy to Counts. And if the sign is a door, you enter, you go through customs. You board your train, you go to sleep. And next morning, when you wake up, you're in the Gare du Nord in Paris. It's not simple. Or it's supposed to be. That is scary. Right this way, Governor. Oh, thank you. Ah, thank you, Governor. Ah, yes? You're taking the night fairy to Paris. Ah, yes. Do you mind? Could I tag along? Why, sure. It's all alone, and it scares me traveling alone. My uncle's hating me in Paris. Oh, don't you worry, don't you worry. I'll take care of you here. Let me carry that cake. Oh, no, it's not heavy. I've got the family jewels in there. Nothing like that. But you can carry my clothes. Okay. Thank you. Right through here, Miss, your bags are ready to be inspected. Thank you. For a girl who was scared and helpless, she certainly commanded service. But then why not? Who wouldn't be willing to do practically anything for the reward of that long, golden smile? How much money are you carrying, Miss? Money? Oh, I have never had money. My husband carries money. Oh, my heart's sad. And then I saw she was pointing at me. Before I could catch my breath, the customs officer was reaching for my passport. Thank you, sir. Let's see here, man. This gentleman's name is different. Well, uh, you see, we've gotten married since these passports were issued. Oh, nearly wed. Sort of, uh, honeymoon. What? Sort of. Well, then they used more than you with a lot of silly questions. On your way, then. And good luck to you both. Thank you very much. Yes, you're very kind. Thank you so much. Not again. My father self-possessed, newly acquired wife aboard the train and disposed of the attending quarter as quickly as I could. Thank you. Thank you, Governor. Is there anything else I can do for you? Uh, yes. Pull the compartment door shut tightly as you leave. Yes, sir. Now, my dear young lady, will you kindly tell me what's the big idea? What big idea? Of identifying me to the customs as your husband. Well, it's a simplified thing. What thing? Smuggling fast sums of money out of England, perhaps? No, silly. Just, uh, well, this is the first thing that popped into my mind. Huh. Well, you know, you could get into a lot of trouble lying to the customs. Well, you lied too. What? Sure you did. You said you'd gotten married since our passports were issued. Well, I just felt I couldn't let you down. Couldn't you? No. I knew you were going to do it from the first time I laid eyes on you in the station. Do what? Anything you say? Well, of course not, but you were sweet to carry my coat for me and to help when that silly man started asking tiresome questions. You know, if you weren't so pretty and so nuts, I'd think you were trying to get away with something. Hello? Mm-hmm, being so. Do you have something? What? Here I am deeply indebted to you and I don't even know your name. Well, yes. And since I'm your publicly acknowledged husband, you ought to know it. It's Mars. Tom Mars. Hmm. Could be worse. Susan Mars. I love it. Hi, citizen. Hi, Tom. Uh, why don't you need one more favor? Oh, sure. Change places with me. You mean you like to ride backwards? Uh-huh. Oh, no, you are not. Tell me. Where you from? From? Oh, you still like that. Well, yes, I know, but what part of the state? Oh, California. No kidding. What part? San Francisco. Well, what do you know? Small World Department. Are you from San Francisco? No? Sausalito. Sausalito? Mm-hmm. Oh, yes, just across the Golden Gate in San Francisco, in Marin County. You sound like a guidebook. Do I? If it comes with traveling around so much, I haven't read anything but guidebooks for the last month and a half. Have a cigarette? Yes, thanks. Light? Yeah. Ah! What's up? Oh, damn it. Look, and the cushion behind you breaks your door. If I hadn't leaned forward to give you a light. Yes, Tom. Why? Why would anybody want to shoot me? I don't know. Why would they, Tom? Wait a minute. You were sitting here. He asked me to change places, Susan. Why would anybody want to shoot you? There was something about this girl that didn't add up. Whatever it was, it wasn't helpful. And anybody in his right mind would have gotten out of there fast. But there was really nowhere to go on board the night train to Paris. And furthermore, she was one of the most enchanting and desirable femme fatale I ever hoped to meet. Well, anyway, after the assassin's bullet broke the window in her compartment, we moved to Marin, agreeing to keep the matter to ourselves. After all the trainmen might ask questions. Yeah, we aren't exactly in a position to answer them, are we? I have nothing to hide. But quite a bit to explain. Tom, you are becoming tiresome. I'm sorry, but you've got to admit. I won't have to admit anything. But you're going to be this weight and go back to your compartment and sleep. You seem to forget that that was your compartment where I nearly met an untimely end. We are now in my compartment. You wouldn't throw me out. Well, I might. I'd like a little sleep. Oh, you're horny. Yeah, I know. I'm also sleepy. Oh, I wish they'd stop bumping these cars all over the place. I think you're a very, very traveling contender. Oh, yeah? Well, just remember, you picked me up. I picked you up. Well, it certainly wasn't my idea. Oh, sorry. Not really. Did you feel that? What? The car rolled just now like a road. Railway cars aren't supposed to do that. Well, if this one is, they must have switched us onto the ferry. Come on, let's go out on deck. The further off from England the mirror is to France. Then turn not pale, the love is stale. Come and join the dance. Talking about it. Alice in Wonderland, the Mark Trudel song, you remember? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you? Will you join the dance? I did not understand. Exactly. Don't you approve of Alice in Wonderland? Not for the man who was masquerading as my husband. Very well. We'll be serious. Look out there toward that flashing buoy. What's that remind you of? Remind me? Well, it reminds me of the view from the Sausalito ferry. Sausalito ferry? Is it called ferry to Sausalito? Well, not now, but there was. Say, when did you leave home? A few months ago. Nothing. What is your time? Oh, what difference does it make? I'm going to turn in. No, no, I'm slow. Well, look, when a guy begins to fall for a girl a little bit, it hurts to find out that she's a phony, that's all. Look, guys. You there? You? Why do you think she's a phony? Now listen, Susan, or whatever your name is, wherever you come from, you don't come from San Francisco. San Franciscans would rather be condemned to live in Los Angeles and call their city Crisco. And there isn't a man, woman, or child alive in the Bay Area who didn't shed a tear when the last of the ferries, the Sausalito ferry, was shut down a few years ago. Oh, no, Susan. I'm sure you don't come from San Francisco. As a matter of fact, you might not even be in America. Yeah, now that I come to think of it, that business in Waterloo Station calling me your husband and all, could that be because you didn't want them to look too carefully of your passport and making you carry your coat? What's in that coat, huh, Susan? Huh? You won't talk, huh? No, Susan, I think you're a spy, Monsieur. What? No, Mademoiselle Susan is not so adept. No, she's not a spy. Nearly a courier, a cutout, and a prince spy. And now, Keldonah, she may not live long enough to become anything. All right, who are you? You'll notice Mademoiselle Susan does not ask. Tell your friend who we are, pretty Susan. I never saw you before in my life, either of you. But you do know who we are. I know nothing. Bravo, bravo. The Monsieur permit me. I am Anton, and my rather large companion holding the gun is Raoul. The identity of our employers of no consequence to you, but I think you may wish to know that our assignment is to relieve Mademoiselle Susan of a certain small package she carries. You are mistaken. I carry nothing on you. On you or in you, we will find it. No, I swear to you. Look, look, this is nuts. Now just put down that gun and stop playing cloak and dagger. We are not playing, Monsieur. Raoul, let go of my throat. I'll report this to the captain. Go on, go on. Shout your head off. In this ring, he's never hear you. Now, provoke Raoul and he'll shoot you, Monsieur, and dump you over the side of him. No one will know. The gun has a silencer. Sit there, Raoul. I don't believe it. I don't believe I'm hearing all this. It's not true, is it? I don't know what they're talking about. Monsieur, you have given us a great deal of trouble and we want no more of it. Of course we realize that you are innocently involved in this matter. When was it that Suzanne attached herself to you and what a hallucination the moment she realized we were on her tail? That's not true. You know it isn't. Why deny it? You're right, Monsieur, in surmising that she identified you as her husband as a diversionary tactic to take attention away from her counterfeit passport. And the shot that was fired through the train window? Oh, yes. That was intended for Manuel. Had he dispatched her as planned, we would already have obtained what we are after and have left the train before her body would have been discovered. We must get what we came after and we will if we have to drop Manuel Zell over the side. Now wait a minute. I was afraid you would not be sympathetic with our ends or our knees. And you were right. So we would have to place you all to combat. Come on, take it easy. So, go. Go. Sleep. Oh, please, please. I have nothing. Then you will know where you are. Don't kill me. It's all because of sleep. She would make sleep deeply. And for how long I don't know. I dreamed sweet dreams of Susan, the dream in which I was a hero and she was covering me with the kisses which our heroes reward. It was accepting her voice sound different and her kisses were extraordinarily moist. And slowly I realized that my admirer was a French poodle and I was slumped in the corner of the baggage car. And the car was no longer rolling and pitching but rattling along on its rails as a well-ordered train should and I came awake with a start. If the train was on rail then we were assured in France that Susan maybe Susan was somewhere back there beneath the dark waters of the English Channel. I had to find out. I had to know. I gave my poodle pal a farewell pass and started back through the train. The going was rough but unimpeded until I got to my car. And here my progress was stopped by a half-awake train. Uh, Monsieur, sir, just for something? Yeah, yeah, my compartment. Which one is that, Monsieur? 302. Compartment 302 is occupied. Uh, by a young lady? Yes. Uh, and two gentlemen. Do they have tickets? If not that, the hour it was late. Well, I do have a ticket. So let me by, please. You sure? May I ask, if you have a ticket, where have you been sleeping? You won't believe this pal, but I'll tell you anyway in the baggage car. What? This is highly irregular. Yes, yes, it is indeed. I'm done comfortable. Now let me pass. I've got to get to my compartment. But Monsieur, it is occupied. I have several others which are free. Look, I want to get into 302. But you will disturb the occupant. I doubt it. Come along with me. I may need you in case we run into any more irregularities. The puzzle train had been followed me down the dark and silent corner. Outside 302 we paused. For a moment, there was no sound from within. And then I heard the window being opened. And I had to tell him to watch. All right, mademoiselle. I'll give you one more chance. Do you have any weapons? Take it easy though. I would call you out the window. No. No, I told you over and over. I don't have it. You've searched my things. You haven't found it. I'll tell you again. I don't have it. And you will tell us where they came from. Call us, mademoiselle. Set up. And I will call out. No. I slid the door open before Rahul could reach Susan. The big gunman whirled toward me and fought her. I was already dodging for his ankles in a low tackle. I connected it, heaved upward, and Rahul toppled backwards out of the window. I snatched up the gun he dropped and covered him. We should. No, you said you had some vacant compartments. How about locking up this gentleman in one of them? But why? This man is a dangerous spy who has just attempted to commit murder on your train. I insisted you lock him up and turn him over to the authorities when we arrive in Paris. I regret I cannot comply with your request, monsieur. By what authority? How do I know? Oh, listen to me. Look, have you had any windows broken on your train tonight? Why, yes. In the next hour in compartment eight. Exactly. And this is the man who was responsible for it being broken. We should. What about these? I deny it. Well, I will prove it when we get to Paris. I need not remind you, my friend, that willful destruction or breakage of state property is a crime, and the railway cars of the Chemin de Ferre d'Itat are state property. Therefore, this man is guilty of a crime against the state. You have reason, monsieur, but he denies it. Ah, yes, and I accuse him of it. You'd better not take a chance, my friend. You'd better let the sororité decide this. Yes, I suppose you are right. Come along, monsieur. What? He is my reputable duty to lock you up. Here, here, take this gun and use it if he tries anything funny. Yes, monsieur. Come along, monsieur. Thank you, sir. He saved my life. Not at all. Any time. Oh, don't you need that gun to protect yourself from me? No, I don't think so. You are dangerous, all right, but a gun is no protection. The only defense in a situation like this is attack. Come here. What are you going to do, sir? I'm just checking up on a dream. Oh, just as I thought. The real thing is better than the dream. Sir, what are you talking about? You'll wait behind. For now, just relax. The rest of the trip was uneventful. If that's the proper description for a lovely, tousal head on one shoulder, the Paris night ferry finally ground to a stop in the Gare du Nord. The man who met Susan and whom she addressed as her uncle took over the details of turning over her assailant to the police. And finally, Susan and uncle and I were seated in the quiet corner of the Sidewalk Cafe, catching up over some breakfast croissant and cafe au lait. Tom is very difficult, uncle. He won't believe a word I tell him. That's right, monsieur. She claims she lives in San Francisco. I don't believe her. She says she's an American. I don't believe her. She says you are her uncle and I beg your pardon, but I don't believe that either. Well, my dear Susan, what a pity. Your very first assignment in your cover story is shot full of holes. Nearly get yourself killed and your tail to deliver the package with which you were entrusted. I'm afraid you'll never make a successful agent for our country. Oh, God. Security. No, a friend, Tom, has guessed too much already. Thanks to your, uh, blundering. I did not blunder. Maybe I did not know everything I showed about San Francisco, but she cannot say I did not deliver the goods. I have not received them. You will. Tom, hand me the French coat, please. What? Here is the packet. Uncle, lift into the lining of Tom's French coat to safety. Oh, no, you mean... Look, if they knew, I could... That's right. You could have been killed. Oh, and you wouldn't have cared? Well, not then. You see, the packet originally was in my coat. And I carried it aboard the train. That's right. Well, well, I take it back, my dear, you have done well. That's a pity, however, we cannot avail ourselves of your services in the future. Well, that, of course, is not impossible since Tom knows your identity. Oh, that's all right, Uncle. I have been becoming less and less interested in the career of a lady's guy. I'm looking forward to Tom showing me first... Um, I mean, San Francisco... if he will. Well, I don't know why. I'd like to, but... Is it safe?