ening, had hung out a blackboard with the proud device: "_Fritz
est Luxembourgeois, mais sa Maison est Belge._" He was taking no chances
on having the place smashed.

* * * * *

_August 6th._--This morning when I came into the Legation I found the
Minister of Justice in top hat and frock coat waiting to see somebody.
He had received a report that a wireless station had been established on
top of the German Legation and was being run by the people who were left
in the building. He came to ask the Minister's consent to send a judge
to look, see and draw up a _proces verbal_. In our own artless little
American way we suggested that it might be simpler to go straight over
and find out how much there was to the report. The Minister of Justice
had a couple of telegraph linemen with him, and as soon as Mr. Whitlock
could get his hat, we walked around the corner to the German Legation,
rang the bell, told the startled occupants that we wanted to go up to
the garret and--up we went.

When we got there we found that the only way onto the roof was by a long
perpendicular ladder leading to a trap door. We all scrambled up
this--all but the Minister of Justice, who remained behind in the garret
with his top hat.

We looked the place over very carefully, and the workmen--evidently in
order to feel that they were doing something--cut a few wires which
probably resulted in great inconvenience to perfectly harmless people
farther along the street. But there was no evidence of a wireless
outfit. One of the men started to explain to me how that proved nothing
at all; that an apparatus was now made that could be concealed in a hat
and brought out at night to be worked. He stopped in the middle of a
word, for suddenly we heard the rasping intermittent hiss of a wireless
very near at hand. Everybody stiffened up like a lot of pointers, and in
a minute had located the plant. It was nothing but a rusty girouette on
top of a chimney being turned by the wind and scratching spitefully at
every turn. The discovery eased the strain and everybody laughed.

Then there was another sound, and we all turned around to see a trap
door raised and the serene, bemonocled face of my friend Cavalcanti
looked out on us in bewilderment. In our search we had strayed over
onto the roof of the Brazilian Legation. It seemed to cause him some
surprise to see us doing second-story work on their house. It was a
fu