When I had reached this conclusion I was much comforted. I had no desire to take unnecessary risks. It seemed certain to me at that time, that the war would not last longer than three months. Koos had thought it would be over in two months, but I felt that he erred on the side of optimism. So that the period of risk was not a very prolonged one, and if I were wise and discreet and succeeded in impressing my subordinates with the necessity for similar discretion, there was no reason why we should not return to the Fatherland with a flawless record to receive those honours which the Supreme War Lord bestowed upon the faithful servants of our beloved Deutschland. At eight o’clock in the morning I was taking my breakfast in the station-buffet at Edinburgh. Von Kahn was awaiting me, and over the meal, served by a sleepy waitress, I had an opportunity of retailing the events which had led to my hasty departure from London. Von Kahn stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “Koos was an impetuous man,” he said, “I am not surprised that he has been detected. You must not forget, my dear Heine, that we Germans have only one thought, only one goal, the welfare of the Fatherland. Koos allowed his penchant for feminine society to overcome his judgment. That is a mistake which I should never make.” I looked at our good von Kahn, with his big red face and his short, well-fed body, and I could not help thinking that it would be indeed a remarkable circumstance if he allowed himself to be lured to destruction in such a manner. He joined the train and went on with me to Dundee. We had not gone far from the station before the train stopped and an attendant came in and pulled down all the blinds, removing, in spite of our protest, all our baggage, which he locked in an empty compartment. “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. “I am very sorry, sir,” said the man, “but those are my orders.” For a moment I had a cold feeling inside me that I was suspected, but his next words reassured me. “We do it to everybody, sir, before we cross the ---- Bridge.” When he had gone I turned to von Kahn. “This is an extraordinary thing,” I said. “I never suspected the English of taking such intelligent precautions.” Von Kahn laughed. “The English here are Scots,” he said, “and they are very cautious.” I should have dearly liked to peep out when the rumble of the wheels told me we were passing the famous bridge, but in the corridor outside the carriage I discovered, to my amazement, a Scottish soldier with fixed bayonet, and for some reason or other his eyes never left us. It was not until we were a very long way past the bridge that the attendant returned my bag and suit-case and pulled up the blind, and not until we reached Dundee that I discussed the matter at all with von Kahn.