"Open your baggage--all of it!" he commanded snappishly. Jane, explaining over her shoulder to the women, stooped to fumble with the hasps. "Seventy of the darlingest gowns--the very last Paul Poiret and Paquin and Worth made before they closed shop and marched away with their regiments. You shall see every one of them." "Hurry, please, my time's limited!" the sergeant barked. "I should think it would be--you're so charming," Jane flung back over her shoulder, and she raised the tops of the baskets. The other women pushed forward with subdued coos. The sergeant plunged his hand under a mass of colored fluffiness, groped for a minute, and brought forth a long roll of heavy paper. With a fierce mien, he began to unroll the bundle. "And these?" "Plans," Hildebrand's buyer answered. "Plans of what?" The sergeant glared. "Of gowns, silly! Here--you're looking at that one upside down! This way! Now isn't that a perfect dear of an afternoon gown? Poiret didn't have time to finish it, poor man! See that lovely basque effect? Everything's _moyen age_ this season, you know." Jane, with a shrewd sidelong glance at the flustered sergeant, rattled on, bringing gown after gown from the baskets and displaying them to the chorus of smothered screams of delight from the feminine part of her audience. One she draped coquettishly from her shoulders and did an exaggerated step before the smoky mirror over the mantelpiece to note the effect. "Isn't it too bad this soldier person isn't married, so he could appreciate these beauties?" She flicked a mischievous eye his way. "Of course he can't be married, or he'd recognize the plan of a gown. Clean hands, there, Mister Sergeant, if you're going to touch any of these dreams! Here, let me! Now look at that _musquetaire_ sleeve--the effect of the war--military, you know." The sergeant was thoroughly angry by this time, and he forced the situation suddenly near tragedy. Under his fingers a delicate girdle crackled suspiciously. "Here--your knife! Rip this open; there are papers of some sort hidden here." He started to pass the gown to one of his soldiers. Jane choked back a scream. "No, no! That's crinoline, stupid! No papers----" She stretched forth her arms appealingly. The sergeant humped his shoulders and put out his hand to take the opened clasp-knife. A plump doll-faced woman, who possessed an afterglow of prettiness and a bustling nervous manner, flounced through the doors at this juncture and burst suddenly into the midst of the group caught in the imminence of disaster. "What's this--what's this?" She caught sight of the filmy creation draped from the sergeant's arm. "Oh, the beauty!" This in a whisper of admiration. "The last one made by Worth," Jane was quick to explain, noting the sergeant's confusion in the presence of the stranger, "and this officer is going to rip it open in a search for concealed papers. He takes me for a spy."