At Magdeburg we were stopped by the Customs after crossing the bridge over the Elbe. We were made in full glare of the public eye to demonstrate the innocence and inadequacy of our wardrobe. Here, too, the roll of celluloid bought at Osnabruck came under suspicion. The police argued that it could have no possible use on the car and that it must be part of a photographic apparatus, the rest of which we were wilfully concealing. After Keating’s wonderful use of my incomprehensible phrase-book and many vivid gesticulations from myself, the police pretended they understood and reluctantly let us travel onwards. From this place onwards our trouble intensified. So long as we continued to move and showed no hesitation all was well, but no sooner did we stop to examine a signpost at cross roads than we would be surrounded by an excited mob of men and women armed to the teeth with muskets that appeared to date from Waterloo and with spades, picks, and pitchforks of a later date but of no less sanguinary appearance. It was nervous work endeavouring to explain ourselves to the local interpreter, probably the parish priest, while any moment the varied contents of any of these guns might shatter such brains as worry had left us. From Hanover onwards we were stopped at practically every village by patrols of the type described above. That these posts were installed officially was obvious from the attempt at a uniform worn by most of these men. At each place our papers were examined laboriously by the padre or the leading shopkeeper, in each case without much enlightenment, for in accordance with British insularity our passport was entirely in English. From these causes our average speed dropped to eight miles an hour, and our nerves began to show signs of weariness. One never knew from one moment to another when we might be detained and possibly killed in a fit of misplaced enthusiasm. We had heard, how I cannot say, that no motoring was permitted after dark. Consequently, as when darkness fell we had reached Minden, we decided to stay the night at the Hotel Stadt London. This for the second time and under such different conditions. On this day there was doubt whether we should reach home again for years or, if an easy accident came, perhaps never. The hotel was crowded with officers, this time mostly in service kit. The dining-room rang with excited talk as to the future and all were flushed with thoughts of the days to come.