It was at the beginning of the third year of war. Among the forlorn creatures he took under his protection was a young lad below military age, a Belgian on the paternal side, whose mother, a widow American-born, was then in the States. The lad and his sister had been left in Brussels to await her return, but as she was unable to do so, the two were soon reduced to deplorable straits. The sister found a home through marriage, but no other improvement of circumstances. The boy was taken into the consulate to assure him some means of support, besides what the Consul personally allowed him. But when the Germans began to seize young civilians, and send them to work in the trenches or in Germany, the boy’s mother sent heart-broken appeals to have her son, delicate and wholly unfit for such labour, shipped on to join her. Although this appeared hopeless, the Consul, as representative of a country still neutral, did his best to accomplish it. After much labour and long argument he succeeded; the youth received a pass, and was ready to leave on a certain date. The evening before his departure for Holland, the Consul received a hastily-scrawled note from the lad, stating that he had been arrested, and was then locked up, he knew not why. It was too late to do anything that evening, but the following morning the Consul went to German headquarters to obtain an explanation. He was received by a stout, red-faced superior officer, who at first refused to answer questions, but finally announced that the boy was suspected of espionage. “May I ask upon what ground?” the Consul demanded politely. “Upon several suspicious indications,” was the evasive reply; “he must be held for further examination.” “But his passage to America is booked for the day after to-morrow,” urged the Consul. “He must leave Brussels to-day if he is to catch the ship.” The other shrugged, saying indifferently, “I regret that is impossible.” “But his pass has been given him, sir, and as I have personally vouched for his integrity, I consider it only fair you should tell me on what ’suspicious indications’ you hold him.” After a lengthy and needless discussion, it was asserted that the boy’s notebook betrayed he had carried letters, and delivered them to several persons in the city. At this Mr. Watts looked amazed. “Certainly,” he retorted; “he was in my employ for that purpose, and I can prove to you that every letter he conveyed related to legitimate consular business.” After some more wrangling the notebook was produced, and this proven to be true, but the stubborn tyrant showed no sign of yielding. The proof could not be held as satisfactory until investigated. And so forth and so forth, until, after another half-hour of futile talk, the officer suddenly announced that the boy could on no condition be liberated without the payment of a fine.