"There was one strike a little while ago, not for more money, but because the men felt they were not getting the food they were entitled to. Do you know what we did?--We put them all in uniform, and sent them on to the Somme, and we sent back from the Somme an equal number of soldiers to replace them in the factory." "When do you think the war will be over?" I asked. "When each side realises that it can't exterminate the other. Look what we've done on the Somme! You've lost, let us say, 700,000 men, and we have lost, say 500,000; and how far have you got? You'll never beat us. If you bend us back more, all we shall have to do is to retire to a new line, and you will have to begin your work all over again. You can bend, but you can't break us." "Well, you tried it, and now it's our turn." "Yes; but it will never end that way. Do you know that for months past we've been digging a new line, a straight line between Lille and Verdun, which will shorten our line by half? And if you bend that we will build another farther back. It can go on for ever at that rate." "What about the blockade?" "Of course, that's a farce. You've been doing your best to starve us for over two years. Do I look starved? We may not get as good food as we should like, but we get enough to live on, because we've got it properly systemised; whereas you let your people eat what they like." Yes, there was truth in that; and after drinking all his wine, I turned into bed; for to-morrow I was to be free! At 7 o'clock on the following evening motor-cars, each with two trailers, went towards the station, filled with totally disabled soldiers, en route for England. Even their captors thought it was not worth while to keep them. War is a monstrous machine of the devil. At one end the manhood of Britain was pouring into its fiery cauldron; and here at the other end the devil was raking out the cinders. My story is drawing to a close. The hospital-train, bearing its human freight, passed through Namur, Liége, Brussels, and Antwerp to the Dutch frontier. All who could do so looked eagerly out of the window for the moment when they would pass into freedom. The train stopped at a small station right on the frontier, and some formalities were gone through. It started again--there was a German sentry--there was a Dutch sentry--we were over. Hurrah!!! Cheer after cheer rang out from that long line of prostrate men. The train pulled up at a little station just across the border. The door of my carriage was flung open and a number of Dutch girls came to my bed, and a shower of things came tumbling all about me as they passed one after the other, saying: "Cigarettes, pleeze; apple, pleeze; cigar, pleeze; cake, pleeze; sweets, pleeze----" I was in heaven. My story is told. I am back in my own home now; and as I conclude this record the postman brings me a letter. It is from my solicitors; I have torn it open, and find an account. The irony of fate closes the chapter: