_Portrait of a Young Girl_ by Chardin and _Young Girl with Chinese Figure_ by Fragonard 192 _Christ and the Adulteress_, the fraudulent Vermeer 193 _Portrait of the Artist’s Sister_ by Rembrandt 193 Removal of treasures from Neuschwanstein 224 Neuschwanstein—Ludwig II’s fantastic castle 224 Packing looted furniture at Neuschwanstein 225 Typical storage room in the castle 225 The Albrecht Dürer house—before and after the German collapse 256 The Veit Stoss altarpiece from the Church of Our Lady at Cracow 257 The Hungarian Crown Jewels 288 Treasure Room at the Central Collecting Point, Wiesbaden 289 The celebrated sculpture, Queen Nefertete 289 SALT MINES AND CASTLES (1) _PARIS—LONDON—VERSAILLES_ “Your name’s not on the passenger list,” said Craig when I walked into the waiting room of the Patuxent airport. “You’d better see what you can do about it.” It was a hot spring night and I had just flown down from Washington, expecting to board a transatlantic plane which was scheduled to take off at midnight. “There must be some mistake,” I said. “I checked on that just before I left Washington.” Craig went with me to the counter where I asked the pretty WAVE on duty to look up my name. It wasn’t on her list. “Let’s see what they know about this at the main office,” she said with an encouraging smile as she dialed Naval Air Transport in Washington. The next ten minutes were grim. The officer at the other end of the line wanted to know with whom I had checked. Had it been someone in his office? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had to get on that plane. I had important papers which had to be delivered to our Paris office without delay. Was I a courier? Yes, I was—well, that is, almost, I faltered to the WAVE ensign who had been transmitting my replies. “Here, you talk to him,” she said, adding, as she handed me the receiver, “I think he can fix it up.” After going through the same questions and getting the same answers a second time, the officer in Washington asked to speak to the yeoman who was supervising the loading of the plane. He was called in and I waited on tenterhooks until I heard him say, “Yes, sir, I can make room for the lieutenant and his gear.” Turning the phone over to the WAVE, he asked with a reassuring grin, “Feel better, Lieutenant?” I was so limp with relief that I scarcely noticed the tall spare man in civilian clothes who had just come up to the counter. “That’s Lindbergh,” said Craig in a low voice. “Do you suppose he’s going over too?”