had left the
cafe.

So engrossed had I been, indeed, in the great enterprise on which I was
embarked, that my actions throughout the morning had been mainly
automatic. Yet how uniformly had they tended to protect me! I had bought
my ticket in advance; I had given my overcoat and bag to a porter that I
now knew to have been my saviour in disguise; I had sallied forth from
the station and thus given him an opportunity for safe converse with me.
The omens were good: I could trust my luck to-day, I felt, and, greatly
comforted, I began to look about me.

I found myself, the only occupant, in a first-class carriage. On the
window was plastered a notice, in Dutch and German, to the effect that
the carriage was reserved. Suddenly I thought of my bag and overcoat.
They were nowhere to be seen. After a little search I found them beneath
the seat. In the overcoat pocket was a black tie.

I lost no time in taking the hint. If any of you who read this tale
should one day notice a ganger on the railway between Rotterdam and
Dordrecht wearing the famous colours of a famous regiment round his neck
you will understand how they got there. Then, wearied out with the
fatigues of my sleepless night, I fell into a deep slumber, my verdant
waterproof swathed round me, Semlin's overcoat about my knees.

* * * * *

I was dreaming fitfully of a mad escape from hordes of wildly clutching
guides, led by Karl the waiter, when the screaming of brakes brought me
to my senses. The train was sensibly slackening speed. Outside the
autumn sun was shining over pleasant brown stretches of moorland bright
with heather. The next moment and before I was fully awake we had glided
to a standstill at a very spick and span station and the familiar cry
of "Alles aussteigen!" rang in my ears.

We were in Germany.

The realization fell upon me like a thunderclap. I was in the enemy's
country, sailing under false colours, with only the most meagre
information about the man whose place I had taken and no plausible tale,
such as I had fully intended to have ready, to carry me through the
rigorous scrutiny of the frontier police.

What was my firm? The Halewright Manufacturing Company. What did we
manufacture? I had not the faintest idea. Why was I coming to Germany at
all? Again I was at a loss.

The clink of iron-shod heels in the corridor and an officer, followed
closely by two privates, the white cross of the Landwehr in t