The German Emperor's fit had passed. Even he was appalled when upon that memorable morning he received the joint note of his three Allies and learnt the awful cost of that one night's fighting. Just as he was countersigning the Note of Capitulation in the headquarters at Aldershot, the _Auriole_ swung round from the northward and descended on to the turf flying the flag of truce. He saw it through the window, got up, put his right hand on the butt of the revolver in his hip-pocket, thought hard for one fateful moment, then took it away and went out. At the gate he met Lord Kitchener; they exchanged salutes and shook hands, and the Kaiser said: "Well, my lord, what are the terms?" K. of K. laughed, simply because he couldn't help it. The absolute hard business of the question went straight to the heart of the best business man in the British Army. "I am not here to make or accept terms, your Majesty," he said. "I am only the bearer of a message, and here it is." Then he handed the Kaiser an envelope bearing the Royal Arms. "I am instructed to take your reply back as soon as possible," he continued. Then he saluted again and walked away towards the _Auriole_. The Kaiser opened the envelope and read--an invitation to lunch from his uncle, Edward of England, and a request to bring his august colleagues with him to talk matters over. There was no hint of battle, victory or defeat. It was a quite commonplace letter, but all the same it was one of those triumphs of diplomacy which only the first diplomatist in Europe knew how to achieve. Then he too laughed as he folded up the letter and went to Lord Kitchener and said: "This is only an invitation to lunch, and you have told me you are not here to propose or take terms. That, of course, was official, but personally--" K. of K. stiffened up, and a harder glint came into his eyes. "I can say nothing personally, your Majesty, except to ask you to remember my reply to Cronje." The Kaiser remembered that reply of three words, "Surrender, or fight," and he knew that he could not fight, save under a penalty of utter destruction. He went back into his room, brought back the joint note which he had just received, and gave it to Lord Kitchener, just as it was, without even putting it into an envelope, saying: "That is our answer. We are beaten, and those who lose must pay." Lord Kitchener looked over the note and said, in a somewhat dry tone: "This, your Majesty, I read as absolute surrender." "It is," said William the Second, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. Lord Kitchener shook his head, and said very quietly and pleasantly: "No, your Majesty, not that. But," he said, looking up at the four flags which were still flying above the headquarters, "I should be obliged if you would give orders to haul those down and hoist the Jack instead."