Inside The Lines w/ Direct link technology (A Romantic Detectiv Story)

The girl plumped herself down on top of the unhasped trunk and folded her arms truculently. With a quizzical smile, the customs guard looked down into her brown eyes, smoldering dangerously now, and began all over again his speech of explanation.
"Wagon-lit?" She caught a familiar word. "Mais oui; that's where I want to go--aboard your wagon-lit, for Paris. Voilá!"--the girl carefully gave the word three syllables--"mon ticket pour Paree!" She opened her patent-leather reticule, rummaged furiously therein, brought out a handkerchief, a tiny mirror, a packet of rice papers, and at last a folded and punched ticket. This she displayed with a triumphant flourish.