In my haste I inadvertently infringed another rigid regulation--I boarded a tram-car in motion. For this misdemeanour I was rated severely by the conductor. But as I emphasised my deaf and dumb infirmity he ceased, doubtless feeling that his energy was being wasted. To my consternation a friend of mine boarded this car, which was proceeding toward his home, and he at once commenced a conversation. I was on my guard, and by a surreptitious whisper, I told him of my deaf and dumb subterfuge. When we reached our destination I related my adventure, revealing my soiled and blood-stained shirt cuff as corroboration. As I described the incident he burst into uncontrollable laughter, but then his face became grave. He felt convinced that a complaint would be lodged, and that investigation would follow. If I were detected in the street trouble would ensue, so he urged me to return to my new home and to lie low for a few days to permit things to blow over. Another day I was alighting from a tram, when I heard a voice calling quietly but firmly, "Mein Herr! Mein Herr!" There was no mistaking the tones. They were so palpably official as not to raise a moment's doubting. I refrained from looking round, proceeding as if I had not heard the hail, although I did not quicken my step. But the "Mein Herr!" continued to ring out persistently, and at last the speaker touched me on the arm. I turned and, as I had anticipated, was confronted by an officer. He demanded to know why I was walking about Cologne. He saw that I was a Britisher and so responded to the call of his inquisitorial duty. I produced my "pass" without a word of comment. He looked at it and gave me a queer glance, but I never turned a hair, and while he was looking at me I calmly withdrew the "pass" from his hands and slipped it into my pocket. At this action there was an excited outburst, but I firmly and resolutely told him that I could not surrender my "pass." I had been told to keep it at all hazards, and I intended to do so. It was my sole protection. Not being able to dispute the truth of my assertions, he merely told me to come with him. I did not like the turn of events but had to obey. He stopped short before a box, possibly a telephone, outside which a sentry was standing. He said something to the sentry, told me to wait outside, and disappeared within the box. I waited patiently for a few minutes, thinking hard to discover some ruse to get away, but retaining a perfectly calm and collected demeanour. If I moved I feared the sentry would raise the alarm. Yet as I stood there it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps the sentry, with typical Teuton denseness of thought, might consider that I was a friend of the officer, and that I was only waiting for him. I glanced anxiously up and down the street, listened at the box, and fidgeted with papers as if fearing that I should miss an appointment unless my friend soon re-appeared.