"I see you do not know what those words mean," said the little landlord, leaning still closer and speaking with twitching lips. "When Germany is in a state of war, all civil authority ceases; the military authority is everywhere supreme. The state takes charge of all railroads, and no private persons will be permitted on them until the troops have been mobilized, which will take at least a week; even after that, the trains will run only when the military authorities think proper, and never past the frontier. The telegraphs are taken and will send no private messages; no person may enter or leave the country until his identity is clearly established; every stranger in the country will be placed under arrest, if there is any reason to suspect him. All motor vehicles are seized, all horses, all stores of food. Business stops, because almost all the men must go to the army. I must close my hotel because there will be no men left to work for me. Even if the men were left, there would be no custom when travel ceases. Every shop will be closed which cannot be managed by women; every factory will shut, unless its product is needed by the army. Your letter of credit will be worthless, because there will be no way in which our bankers can get gold from America. No--at that time, Germany will be no place for strangers." Stewart listened incredulously, for all this sounded like the wildest extravagance. He could not believe that business and industry would fall to pieces like that--it was too firmly founded, too strongly built. "What I have said is true, sir, believe me," said the little man, earnestly, seeing his skeptical countenance. "One thing more--have you a passport?" "Yes," said Stewart, and tapped his pocket. "That is good. That will save you trouble at the frontier. Ah, here is your baggage. Good-by, sir, and a safe voyage to your most fortunate country." A brawny porter shouldered the two suit-cases which held Stewart's belongings, and the latter followed him along the hall to the door. As he stepped out upon the terrace, he saw drawn up there about twenty men--some with the black coats of waiters, some with the white caps of cooks, some with the green aprons of porters--while a bearded man in a spiked helmet was checking off their names in a little book. At the sound of Stewart's footsteps, he turned and cast upon him the cold, impersonal glance of German officialdom. Then he looked at the porter. "You will return as quickly as possible," he said gruffly in German to the latter, and returned to his checking.