In Washington, where tourists were thick as the pink blossoms on the Japanese cherry trees last week, a shabby, middle-aged woman attracted no attention when she entered the line of sightseers winding through the White House one morning. Tucked under her arm was a folded newspaper; in the fold were three matchboxes, a crumpled packet of cellophane and paper napkins.
While the rest of the tourists enjoyed the elegance and peeked around hopefully for a glimpse of the tenants, Mrs. Hilda Marie Marks leaned over a velvet guide rope in the chandeliered Red Room, dropped the newspaper on a chair...
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