rs, with whom a full-bosomed, broad-hipped Flemish girl
exchanged uncouth pleasantries, and it possessed a weird and uncomely
boy, who regarded A----, the Staff officer accompanying me, with a
hypnotic stare. He peered at him from under drooping eyelids, flanking a
nose without a bridge, and my companion didn't like it. "He is admiring
you," I remarked by way of consolation, as indeed he was. "What do you
call it?" said A---- petulantly to a R.A.M.C. officer who was lunching
with us. The latter looked at the boy with a clinical eye.
"Necrosis--syphilitic," he said dispassionately. "And he's handing us
the cakes!" A---- exclaimed with horror. "Fetch me an ounce of civet."
We declined the cakes, and, having paid our _addition_, hastily departed
to resume our quest of the _procureur_.

Eventually we found the legend set out above. It was a placard stuck on
the door of a private house. We entered and found ourselves in a kitchen
with a stone floor; japanned tin boxes, calf-bound volumes, and fat
registers, all stamped with the arms of Belgium, were grouped on the
shelves of the dresser. A courteous gentleman, well-groomed and
debonair, with waxed moustaches, greeted us. It was the _procureur du
roi_. With him was another civilian--the _juge d'instruction_. They
politely requested us to take a seat and to excuse a judicial
preoccupation. The _juge d'instruction_ was interrogating an inhabitant
of Poperinghe. The _procureur_ explained to me that the _prevenu_ (the
accused), who was not present but was within the precincts, was charged
with _calomnie_[27] under Section 444 of the _Code Penal_. "But," I
exclaimed in astonishment, "are you still administering justice?"
"Pourquoi non?" he asked in mild surprise. It was true, he admitted,
that his office at Ypres had been destroyed by shell-fire, the _maison
d'arret_--in plain English, the prison--was open to the four winds of
heaven, and warders and gendarmes had been called up to the colours. But
justice must be done and the majesty of the King of the Belgians upheld.
The King's writ still ran, even though its currency might be limited to
the few square miles which were all that remained of Belgian territory
in Belgian hands. All this he explained to me with such gravity that I
felt further questions would be futile, if not impertinent. I therefore
held my tongue and determined to follow the proceedings closely, being
not a little curious to observe how the judgment would be enfo