A signal station was established on one of the highest buildings, and on the approach of a Taube a gun was fired to give the inhabitants timely warning, though the usual effect of this warning at first was to bring crowds into the streets to catch a glimpse of what was going on aloft rather than induce the people to make for safety. After a few of these alarms the novelty wore off, and though it cannot be said that scarcely any notice was taken of them, there was certainly no undue excitement when the signal gun was heard. As will be gathered, therefore, the war, beyond transforming Udine from a picturesque, sleepy, little provincial town into a bustling and important military centre, had not effected so much change in it materially as might have been expected, so it was a sort of haven to return to after one had been in the zone of actual operations for a time. I had now been up at the Front for six weeks, and was beginning almost to consider myself as settled permanently at Headquarters. How I managed to stay so long undisturbed I could not understand, considering the stringency of the police regulations. It may have been that the authorities winked complacently at my presence during all these weeks in consequence of my being an artist as distinct from a journalist, for by this time I made no attempt at secrecy since no one took any notice of me apparently, and I went about everywhere as freely as if I had an official permit from the General himself. I recollect one day meeting Colonel Lamb, the British Military Attaché, in the street. He had just arrived from Rome. He expressed his surprise at seeing me in Udine, and asked how long I had been there; when I told him he laughingly said: “You’ll end by being sent to prison and perhaps shot one day.” I replied in the same vein that I had been expecting it to happen every day for weeks past, so should not be surprised when it did. Well, whatever the reason, I had no unpleasant attention shown me until the last few days of my stay, and then it was suddenly brought home to me that I had overstayed my welcome. It was really the last thing I was expecting to happen, as I had got on quite friendly terms with the Commandant of the Carabinieri, and only a few days previously the Commissaire of Police had given me his official sanction to remain in Udine. The order for what now took place must therefore have emanated from someone in higher authority than either of these gentlemen, so there was absolutely no appeal from it, as will be seen. It came about in this wise. I was leaving the restaurant where I usually lunched when a tall, well-dressed civilian came up to me, and, as far as I could make out, since I hardly understood a word of Italian, asked me if I were Mr. Price, and if I were that person would I do him the inestimable favour to walk with him as far as the Questura, as they had something of importance they desired to communicate to me at once.