nto the
open and practise as a barrister--and me, again, as your clerk. It
was our damned Government that made you go abroad and get locked up
'ere. And once I realized you couldn't get away, thinks I to meself,
_I'll_ find a way..."

It was here that Vivie began questioning him as to how he had
reached Brussels from the War zone; and as, towards the end of his
story--some of which he said she would find he had written down in
case they wouldn't let him see her--the reference to the Emperor
came in, she sprang up and tried the door of the cell. It was
fastened without, but a face covered the small, square opening
through which prisoners were watched; and a rough voice asked her
what she wanted. It was the German police agent or spy, who, perched
on a stool outside, next this small window, was there to listen to
all they said. As they naturally spoke in English and the rough
creature only knew "God-dam," and a few unrepeatable words, he was
not much the wiser for his vigil.

"I want--I _must_ see the Director," said Vivie.

Presently the Director came.

"Oh, sir," said Vivie, "give me paper and an envelope, I _implore_
you. There is pen and ink here and I will write a letter to the
Emperor, a petition. I will tell him briefly the true story of this
poor young man; and _then_, if you will only forward it he may grant
a reprieve."

The Director said he would do his best. After all, you never knew;
and the Kaiser, though he said he hated them always, had a greater
regard for the English than for any other nation. As he glanced
from Vivie and her face of agonized appeal to the steadfast gaze
which Bertie fixed on her, as on some fairy godmother, his own eyes
filled with tears--as indeed they did many, many times over the
tragic scenes of the German Terror.

Another request. Could Vivie see or communicate with Graefin von
Stachelberg?--with Pasteur Walcker?

Here the police agent intervened--"Nothing of the kind! You're not
going to hold a salon here. Far too many concessions already. Much
more fuss and trouble, and I shall take you back to the Kommandantur
and report. Write your letter to the All Highest, who may deign to
receive it. As to Pastor Walcker, he shall come to-morrow, Sunday,
to prepare the Englishman for his death, on Monday--"

Vivie wrote her letter--probably in very incoherent language. It was
handed to the German police agent. He smiled sardonically as he took
it in his horny hand with its dirty