Dead tired, I reached Crefeld that night by the last train. I could not go on. So I went into the first hotel and hired a room. I wrote the name that was on the false paper into the register and went to sleep. At six o'clock in the morning there was a knock at my door. "Who is there?" "The police." "The police?" "Yes; the political police." I opened the door. "Here lives ...? (he mentioned the name in which I had registered). "Yes." "Have you any identification papers?" "If you please," I said, handing him the landsturm certificate. "Everything in order; pardon me for having disturbed you." "You're welcome; you're welcome," I hastened to reply, and thought how polite the police was. That well-known leaden weight fell from my chest, but I had no mind to go to sleep again. Whilst I was dressing I heard him visit all the guests of the hotel. I had not thought of the customary inspection of strangers in frontier towns. It was a good thing I had been armed for that event. Without taking breakfast (my appetite had vanished) I went to the depot and risked traveling to Kempten in spite of the great number of policemen that were about. I calculated by the map that the frontier was still some fifteen miles away. I had not much baggage with me, only a small bag, a raincoat and an umbrella. I marched along the country road and in five hours I reached the village of Herongen. To the left of that place was the village of Niederhofen. Everywhere I saw farmers working in the fields. They would have to inform me of how the line of the frontier ran and how it was being watched. In order to procure that information I selected only those people who, to judge by their appearance, were no "great lights of the church." Without arousing suspicion I got to know that the names of the two places were "Herongen" and "Niederhofen," and that a troop of cuirassiers were quartered at Herongen. The man told me that the soldiers were lodged in the dancing hall of the Schwarz Inn. Presently I met a man who was cutting a hedge. He was a Hollander who went home across the frontier every night; he had a passport. "You are the man for me," I thought to myself, and said aloud that I had met several Hollanders in that part of the country (he was the first one), and gave him a cigar. I mentioned to him that I had visited an acquaintance in the Schwarz Inn at Herongen. "Yes," he said; "they are there." "But my friend had to go on duty, so I am having a look round." "They have got plenty to do near the frontier." "Indeed?" "Every thirty minutes and oftener a cavalry patrol, and every quarter of an hour an infantry patrol go scouting along the frontier." "And how does the frontier run?" I queried, offering him a light for his cigar. He showed me with his hand. "Here in front of you, then right through the woods, then up there; those high steeples towering over the woods belong to the factories of Venlo."