This is a story of high finance as well as high flying. It never would have been written if a couple of Yankee doughs had not found a cache of Jerry marks in a deserted abri near Vaubecourt. You see, a year before Uncle Sam peeled off his coat and spat on his hands to take a poke at Kaiser Bill, the Frog poilus had chased the Heinies out of the aforementioned Frog hamlet. And the Jerry brass hats, evidently very hard pressed, were satisfied to escape with even their skivvies. They left behind them a Boche paymaster