At the door the sentry's bayonet barred his entry, but the officer of the guard, on being informed that a man had applied to see the governor on urgent business, came out and spoke to him. A few words were sufficient, and Max was brought inside under a guard of two men while the officer sought the governor with the welcome news that the man who had destroyed the Durend workshops had given himself up. The governor directed that he should be searched to ensure that he was not in possession of firearms and then admitted to his presence. The German governor of Liege was quite a typical Prussian officer, stiffly erect, with bullet-head covered with short bristling grey hair, well-twisted moustache, and fierce aggressive manner. He was the man who had called upon Schenk on the never-to-be-forgotten occasion when Max and Dale had been his uninvited guests underneath his office desk. To say the least of it, he was not a man who was afraid of being too severe. "You are then this rascal who has burned the Durend machine-gun shop?" he cried in a rasping voice as soon as Max had been led before him. "Yes," replied Max, "but I am no rascal. The shop is mine, and I have burned it." "Yours, impudent?" cried the governor angrily, raising a cane which lay upon his desk as though about to slash his prisoner about the face. "Yours? And who are you?" "I am Max Durend, the son of the owner of the workshops, and I would sooner see the place burned from end to end than of use to the Germans." "Ah, that is good!" replied the governor in a voice of satisfaction, dropping his hand and turning towards the officer who had ushered Max into the room. "It will have a salutary effect if we execute the son of Herr Durend. It will aid our cause tremendously." "Yes, General." "I have given myself up that the innocent men you have seized upon may be released," Max interposed. "They know nothing of it. I am solely responsible." "Ja, so. I have now no quarrel with them," replied the governor indifferently. "They are pawns. Now I have the real miscreant I need them not." "I am no miscreant. They are miscreants who would slaughter thirty-nine innocent men because the right one had slipped through their fingers." The governor glared at Max with eyes that goggled with rage. He was clearly unaccustomed to such plain speaking. "I remember that Herr von Schenkendorf once told me that Monsieur Durend had married an Englishwoman. You are half a mad English dog, and your manners proclaim it." "It is true," replied Max steadily. "Ja, you and your countrymen are half barbarian. You know naught of Kultur." "Thank God!" cried Max with an emphasis that caused the governor to spring to his feet, seize the cane anew, and slash the prisoner heavily across the cheek. Max flinched--he could not help it--but he moved neither hand nor foot.