“Ah, oui ,” says he.

I asked my chauffeur to take me to a maison du tire pumps. We found one on the Champs Élysées. Other things for sale in the store were watches and perfumery. I proceeded thence to French General Headquarters.

The gentleman authorized to sign orders for tires received me cordially and spoke English.

“Certainly,” he said in answer to my request, “if the car is for an American officer. And what is the license number?”

I had to confess I didn’t know.

“Well,” said he, “you go to the garage and find out. Then come back and I’ll give you the order.”

I went to the garage to find out. There was no license.