By this time the Chef de Gare had come to answer our questions and we waved our persecutors aside while we talked to him. They kept quiet and meekly stood aside, as we bade them. While we talked with our functionary, I looked out on the square and saw that we were a real sensation. The Garde Civique had been called out and was keeping the place clear. The crowd was banked up solid around the other three sides of the square. They looked hopeful of seeing the German spies brought out and shot. By signing our names on a scrap of paper, which the amateurs compared with the signatures on different papers we had about us, we convinced them that we were harmless citizens, and were allowed to go. The crowd seemed greatly disappointed to see us walk out free. The Garde Civique let them loose as we got in the car, and they came thronging around for a good close look at us. We honk-honked our way through them, thanking our lucky stars we had not had a worse time of it. At the edge of the town we looked up and saw two German aeroplanes snooping around. A minute later a crowd of people surged across the street to bar our way, shouting that we must go no farther, as the Germans were approaching the town and that it was dangerous to proceed. Two young officers came across the street to tell us in great glee that they had made a dash in a motor at the first German outpost and had brought in four prisoners. They were bursting with joy in their exploit, but by this time they may themselves be prisoners. In a few minutes we came to the first German outpost, and had our papers carefully examined. From then on we were held up every few yards and nearly had our papers worn out from much handling. At one place a young Lieutenant looked over our papers and burst out into roars of laughter at the name of von Jarotzky. He called to other officers. They came up, looked at the signature, and also burst out into loud laughter. I asked them what the joke was, but they were not telling. We got in about seven o'clock, without incident. Went to see von Herwarth after dinner on behalf of a poor Belgian woman whose husband, a Major in the Grenadiers, is dangerously wounded and in the military hospital at Antwerp. The Germans are going to send her up to-morrow on a motor with some Belgian officers, who are being exchanged. I saw the aide-de-camp who is going through with the car and asked him to be nice to her. Then to her house, to shut up a lot of old women of both sexes who were trying to dissuade her from going, on the ground that the Germans would hold her as a hostage. I suppose she will be off. Mrs. Bridges,[5] wife of the former British Military Attache, was in this evening for help. A British prisoner told of seeing Colonel Bridges fall from his horse at Mons, mount again, ride a little way and fall. She cannot get to Mons, so we are getting her off to France via England, in the hope that she may find him on that side.