Herr Holbach proved as pleasant as his predecessors, but equally elusive on the subject of trout. No, he dealt solely in carp; then came the familiar leitmotiv for which I was waiting--the English soldiers had taken all the trout. But he had a friend, Herr Richard Klassen, at Witzhelden, who had fishing to let and enormous trout. It was very expensive, but the trout were of a size and vigour under which any ordinary rod would bend to breaking point. His advice to us was to go and interview Herr Klassen, recommended to that end by Herr Holbach. The sun was drawing to the west and long shadows were beginning to fall over the hills and glades. If indeed it was to be our fate perpetually to chase trout from one valley to another in this smiling land, there might be a worse lot. We turned our car, and once again, hope triumphing over experience, we set out in search of Herr Klassen. Herr Klassen, so our instructions ran, lived near the church in Witzhelden. We found the house in possession of a girl, who to our surprise showed signs of alarm at the sight of a uniform. However, her face cleared up when we explained we had come about fishing. Herr Klassen was in the hayfield; she would fetch him. Meanwhile, a neatly-dressed elderly man with a lump of putrid meat in his hand came up the road and took off his hat politely. This was Herr Klassen’s brother. The gentleman was, like his niece, a trifle nervous at seeing us, but became garrulous when our errand was revealed. We came from Cologne did we--then of course we knew of the most regrettable incident which had overtaken the Klassen family last week. No? Was it possible we had not heard--they had been fined five thousand marks for having firearms in the house;--the whole family were devoted to sport and they had various shooting guns they had not given up. Hence these tears. We expressed sympathy with the family troubles, but said it was foolish not to have mentioned the various fowling-pieces of whose innocent intentions Herr Klassen spoke with such conviction. However, he showed no resentment that the long arm of British law had touched him in his remote village, though, as the hero of the hour, his feelings were clearly a little hurt that we had no knowledge of his fame. At this moment up came Herr Richard Klassen, hot and perspiring from the hayfield.