The Baron's attitude was that of absolute finality, and in signification of the end of the interview he asked Mr. Gibson to take back the note which he had presented to him. This apparently simple request was typical of the subtleties of Teutonic diplomacy, which cynically repudiates its own 'scraps of paper,' and consequently cannot be expected to hold those of others in very high esteem. Astute as Baron von der Lancken may have imagined himself to be, his idea is patent to an ordinarily unsophisticated mind, which not unnaturally, albeit ungenerously, infers that at some time in the future the Baron may desire to deny that he had received the written appeal of the American Minister, which would be borne out by its absence from the official archives. He is welcome to any satisfaction that the preparation for mendacity may afford an atrophic conscience and a mental attitude that is foreign to honourable diplomacy. For an hour longer the visitors argued and pleaded, only to be informed very positively that 'even the Emperor himself could not intervene'; but even then Mr. Gibson and the Marquis de Villalobar continued to make fresh appeals for delay. Finally the Spanish Minister drew Baron von der Lancken aside in order to express some forcible opinions that he hesitated to say in the presence of the Baron's subordinates and M. de Leval, a Belgian subject; and in the meantime Mr. Gibson and M. de Leval argued desperately with the younger officers--but all in vain. Edith Cavell was doomed to death by that same tyranny that had consummated the horrors of Louvain, that had heaped up atrocity upon atrocity to appal all Christendom. As the bells of the city chimed the midnight hour the victims' friends returned in despair to the American Legation. VII THE BLOOD OF THE MARTYR At eleven o'clock that same night, while Mr. Gibson and the Marquis de Villalobar were expostulating with Baron von der Lancken, the Rev. H. S. T. Gahan, the British Chaplain in Brussels, entered the cell in which Nurse Cavell had spent the last ten weeks of her life. Even in that supreme hour when she was being hurried to the grave by her implacable foes, she knew no fear. She was calm and resigned. Upon her gentle lips was no execration of her enemies, but only sentiments that make us infinitely proud of her, that shall be repeated by generations yet unborn, that shall endure in our national affection and reverence as long as British tongues have speech and words have meaning.