The room into which he was shown was a very pleasant one, scrupulously clean, and as he made his toilet, Stewart reflected how much more of comfort and how much warmer welcome was often to be had at the small inns than at the big ones, and mentally thanked the officer of police who had recommended this one. He found he had further reason for gratitude when he sat down to lunch, served on a little table set in one corner of a shady court--the best lunch he had eaten for a long time, as he told the landlady when she came out presently, knitting in hand, and sat down near him. She could speak a little English, it appeared, and a little French, and these, with Stewart's little German, afforded a medium of communication limping, it is true, but sufficient. She received the compliments of her guest with the dignity of one who knew them to be deserved. "I do what I can to please my patrons," she said; "and indeed I have had no cause to complain, for the season has been very good. But this war--it will ruin us innkeepers--there will be no more travelers. Already, I hear, Spa, Ostend, Carlsbad, Baden--such places as those--are deserted just when the season should be at its best. What do you think of it--this war?" "Most probably it is just another scare," said Stewart. "War seems scarcely possible in these days--it is too cruel, too absurd. An agreement will be reached." "I am sure I hope so, sir; but it looks very bad. For three days now our troops have been passing through Aachen toward the frontier." "How far away is the frontier?" "About ten miles. The customhouse is at Herbesthal." "Ten miles!" echoed Stewart in surprise. "The frontier of France?" "Oh, no--the frontier of Belgium." "But why should they concentrate along the Belgian frontier?" Stewart demanded. "Perhaps they fear an attack from that direction. Or perhaps," she added, calmly, "they are preparing to seize Belgium. I have often heard it said that Belgium should belong to Germany." "But look here," protested Stewart, hotly, "Germany can't seize a country just because it happens to be smaller and weaker than she is!" "Can't she?" inquired the landlady, seemingly astonished at his indignation. "Why is that?" Her eyes were shining strangely as she lowered them to her knitting; and there was a moment's silence, broken only by the rapid clicking of her needles. For Stewart found himself unable to answer her question. Ever since history began, big countries had been seizing smaller ones, and great powers crushing weaker ones. If Austria might seize Bosnia and Italy Tripoli, why might not Germany seize Belgium? And he suddenly realized that, in spite of protests and denials and hypocrisies, between nation and nation the law of the jungle was, even yet, often the only law!