Pennythwaite. She was dressed in a very low cut satin blouse with skin tight pants and easily the highest heels ever seen. Her hair was pulled severely back and her right hand carried a short riding whip with which she tapped her thigh meaningfully.

"Oh, I say!" began Gloria, when Miss Pennythwaite interrupted.

"That will do for now. You may begin by unlacing my boots-and relacing them for me and tell me how much you enjoy doing it. Then we'll get on to other things!" As she turned to precede him into the sitting-room of her flat, he whispered huskily, "Terribly sorry, old thing!" and he darted out a slim, strong hand to catch her neck right at the carotid artery and squeezed, gently, until Miss Pennythwaite lay unconscious in his arms. He deposited her inert form on the divan and searching up a scrap of foolscap and a pencil, wrote a short note which he deposited exactly in the center of her low cut blouse. The note read: "Too bad, Marien. But I'm afraid that's not my cup of tea either. Cheery-bye," and he signed it with a caricature of a cat with very long lashes and a bow about it's neck. Then he swept out into the night.

Two weeks later, the patrons of the "Disk" in Liverpool were treated to a new face and shape in the glass cage above the dance floor who played the records with a faintly risque patter and whose lithe young shape led the gyrations of the crowd below through the Frug, the Bosa Nova, the Swim and all the rest of those meaningful mo- tions. So popular did she become in fact that it was with no surprise, albeit with some sorrow that the regular patrons were told that “Gloria” had gone on to Paris to "La Discotheque" and was wowing the Pa- risians with her sibilant charm.

As anticipated, the first maneuver had been easy to arrange. From this point on, the operation grew stickier. Gloria had been in Paris for three weeks before the first opportunity came. She had been given quarters right above the "Discotheque" which she shared with three other girls. The foresight and planning of the SMO was invaluable at this time and after a short, but furious struggle for self-control, Gloria entered into the uninhibited atmosphere. The apartments should be guarded, Gloria thought to herself, and a few discreet inquiries of her companions proved her suspicion. "No, I wouldn't venture out at night, if I were you," said Sheila, a tall, raven-haired English beauty who had found it a most natural thing to become chums with Gloria. "Weren't you told about that?" "No—at least, I don't think so-’ Gloria had found it useful to appear just a little confused most of the

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