Shortly before lunch a Lieutenant Kellerman of a reserve unit of Garrison Artillery called to see us. He said that he had been told that two Englishmen were detained in the town, and that as he admired the English and spoke our language fluently he had come to see what assistance he might be able to render. We were glad to see him. It relieved the monotony, and also he would be able to translate the mystic newspapers to us. But that was not his mission. He talked of England and of America. All good Germans seem to have travelled in America either North or South! It was some little time before we realised that most of his questions were asked with other reasons than that of benevolence. He said that a diary of our travels would be interesting in years to come. Surely we had kept one? And photographs, too, what pleasure they would give to our friends in England when we reached home! But as our visitor would neither drink nor smoke—what honest German does not drink and smoke?—with us we did not care to answer his questions quite as simply as he would have wished. After a space he left us and returned no more. He may have meant well, but in the light of after events it is more probable that he was intended to trap us into some unconsciously guilty admission. At lunch time the Commandant appeared. He told us that no reply had come from Berlin and that he feared we should find it difficult to get away. His pleasant face showed that he really felt sorry and that it was not pretence. At his request we lunched with him, though the conversation was of necessity spasmodic, since neither party spoke the other’s tongue. Yet it was a kindly thought, which counts for much at times of tension. He, in common with most officers of the garrison, lunched daily at the Hotel Stadt London, and our presence at his table went far to make our position more comfortable. The glances of suspicion from other officers in the room died away, and we felt less like escaped convicts than we had during the morning. Through the kindly offices of a neighbour who spoke English the Commandant asked if we thought England would take part in the war. We said that we did not think our country would interfere, as at that time we imagined the opening war to concern France, Russia, and Germany alone. The Commandant gravely said that he was not optimistic, for he did not think that England would stand by inactive. War would be bad for both countries. He implied that Germany had for many years desired an alliance with England. United the two nations could sweep the world. This was the view taken by many to whom we spoke during the journey and illustrates in some degree the aims of Modern Germany. The picture of an uncivilised world waiting for enlightenment by the Apostles of Culture in the form of German Army Corps is pathetic to us, but it is, or was, doubtless very vivid to sincere German officers.