heir
helmets, stood at the door.

"Your papers, please," he said curtly but politely.

I handed over my American passport.

"This has not been vised," said the officer.

With a pang I realized that again I was at fault. Of course, the
passport should have been stamped at the German Consulate at Rotterdam.

"I had no time," I said boldly. "I am travelling on most important
business to Berlin. I only reached Rotterdam last night, after the
Consulate was closed."

The lieutenant turned to one of his guards.

"Take the gentleman to the Customs Hall," he said and went on to the
next carriage.

The soldier appropriated my overcoat and bag and beckoned me to follow
him. Outside the platform was railed off. Everyone, I noticed, was
shepherded into a long narrow pen made with iron hurdles leading to a
locked door over which was written: Zoll-Revision. I was going to take
my place in the queue when the soldier prodded me with his elbow. He led
me to a side door which opened in the gaunt, bare Customs Hall with its
long row of trestles for the examination of the passengers' luggage. In
a corner behind a desk was a large group of officers and subordinate
officials, all in the grey-green uniform I knew so well from the life in
the trenches. The principal seemed to be an immense man, inordinately
gross and fat, with a bloated face and great gold spectacles. He was
roaring in a loud, angry voice:

"He's not come! There you are! Again we shall have all the trouble for
nothing!"

I thought he looked an extraordinarily bad-tempered individual and I
fervently prayed that I should not be brought before him.

The doors were flung open. With a rush the hall was invaded with a
heterogeneous mob of people huddled pellmell together and driven along
before a line of soldiers. For an hour or more babel reigned. Officials
bawled at the public: the place rang with the sounds of angry
altercation. After a furious dispute one man, wildly gesticulating, was
dragged away by two soldiers.

I never saw such a thorough examination in my life. People's bags were
literally turned upside down and every single object pried into and
besnuffled. After the customs' examination passengers were passed on to
the searching-rooms, the men to one side, the women to the other. I
caught sight of a female searcher lolling at a door ... a monstrous and
grim female who reminded me of those dreadful bathing women at the
seaside in our early youth.

The fat