"Can the leopard change his spots?" quoted the other. "A year ago one of my friends, a maker of automobiles, thought I needed a holiday. He took me to England. God has been good to Britain, monsieur! He has given you riches and power. But you are grown careless. I stayed in five big hotels, two in London and three in the provinces. They were all run by Germans. I made inquiries, thinking I might benefit some of my village lads; but the German managers would employ none save German waiters, German cooks, German reception clerks. Your hall porters were Germans. You never cared to reflect, I suppose, that hotels are the main arteries of a country's life. But the canker did not end there. Your mills and collieries were installing German plant under German supervisors. Your banks----" The speaker paused dramatically. "But our God is not a German God!" he cried, and his sunken eyes seemed to shoot fire. "Last night, listening to the guns that were murdering Belgium, I asked myself, why does Heaven permit this crime? And the answer came swiftly: German influences were poisoning the world. They had to be eradicated, or mankind would sink into the bottomless pit. So God has sent this war. Be of good heart. Remember the words of Saint Paul: 'So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption; it is raised in incorruption. It is sown in dishonour; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power.'" The curé's voice had unconsciously attained the pulpit pitch. The clear, incisive accents reached other ears. The landlady crept in, with a face of scare. "Monsieur!" she whispered, "the doors are wide open. It is an order!" Dalroy went rapidly into the street. No loiterer was visible. Not even a crowd of five persons might gather to watch the military pageant; it was _verboten_. And ever the dim shapes flitted by in the night--horse, foot, and artillery, automobiles, ambulance and transport wagons. There seemed no end to this flux of gray-green gnomes. The air was tremulous with the unceasing hammer-strokes of heavy guns on the anvil of Liège. Staid old Europe might be dissolving even then in a cloud of high-explosive gas. The scheme of things was all awry. One Englishman gave up the riddle. He turned on his heel, and lit one of the cheap cigars purchased in Aix-la-Chapelle less than forty-eight hours ago! CHAPTER X ANDENNE