"She must, or risk annihilation. She will not dare oppose us. If she does, we shall crush her into the dust. She will belong to us, and we will take her. Moreover, we shall not repeat the mistake we made in Alsace-Lorraine. There will be no treason in Belgium!" Stewart felt a little shiver of disgust sweep over him. So this was the German attitude--treaties, solemn agreements, these were merely "scraps of paper" not worth a second thought; a small nation had no rights worth considering, since it lacked the power to defend them. Should it try to do so, it would "risk annihilation!" He did not feel that he could trust himself to talk any longer, and rose suddenly to his feet. "What are we going to do to-night?" he asked. "Not sit here in this shed, surely!" "Certainly not," and the officer rose too. "I have secured a lodging for you with the woman who searched Madame. You will find it clean and comfortable, though by no means luxurious." "That is very kind of you," said Stewart, with a memory of the rabble he had seen crowded into the waiting-room. And then he looked at his luggage. "I hope it isn't far," he added. "I've carried those bags about a thousand miles to-day." "It is but a step--but I will have a man carry your bags. Here is your passport, sir, and again permit me to assure you of my regret. You also, madame!" and he bowed ceremoniously above her fingers. Three minutes later, Stewart and his companion were walking down the platform beside the pleasant-faced woman, who babbled away amiably in German, while a porter followed with the bags. As they passed the station, they could see that it was still jammed with a motley crowd, while a guard of soldiers thrown around it prevented anyone leaving or entering. "How fortunate that we have escaped that!" said Stewart. "Even at the price of being searched!" "This way, sir," said the woman, in German, and motioned off into the darkness to the right. They made their way across a net-work of tracks, which seemed to Stewart strangely complicated and extensive for a small frontier station, and then emerged into a narrow, crooked street, bordered by mean little houses. In front of one of these the woman stopped and unlocked the door with an enormous key. The porter set the bags inside, received his tip, and withdrew, while their hostess struck a match and lighted a candle, disclosing a narrow hall running from the front door back through the house. "You will sleep here, sir," she said, and opened a door to the left. They stepped through, in obedience to her gesture, and found themselves in a fair-sized room, poorly furnished and a little musty from disuse, but evidently clean. Their hostess hastened to open the window and to light another candle. Then she brought in Stewart's bags.