"I am carrying one of your letters of credit," Stewart explained, and produced it. "I got these notes on it at Heidelberg just the other day. Now it seems they're no good." "They are perfectly good," the cashier assured him; "but some of the tradespeople, who are always suspicious and ready to take alarm, are demanding gold. How long will you be in Germany?" "I go to Belgium to-night or to-morrow." "Then you can use French gold," said the cashier, with visible relief. "Will one hundred marks in German gold carry you through? Yes? I think I can arrange it on that basis;" and when Stewart assented, counted out five twenty-mark pieces and twenty-four twenty-franc pieces. "I think you are wise to leave Germany as soon as possible," he added, in a low tone, as Stewart gathered up this money and bestowed it about his person. "We do not wish to alarm anyone, and we are not offering advice, but if war comes, Germany will not be a pleasant place for strangers." "Is it really coming?" Stewart asked. "Is there any news?" "There is nothing definite--just a feeling in the air--but I believe that it is coming," and he turned to the next in line. Stewart hastened back to the hotel, where his landlord received with reiterated thanks the thirty marks needed to settle the bill. When that transaction was ended, he glanced nervously about the empty office, and then leaned close. "You leave this morning, do you not, sir?" he asked, in a tone cautiously lowered. "Yes; I am going to Aix-la-Chapelle." "Take my advice, sir," said the landlord earnestly, "and do not stop there. Go straight on to Brussels." "But why?" asked Stewart. "Everybody is advising me to get out of Germany. What danger can there be?" "No danger, perhaps, but very great annoyance. It is rumored that the Emperor has already signed the proclamation declaring Germany in a state of war. It may be posted at any moment." "Suppose it is--what then? What difference can that make to me--or to any American?"