When he had finished searching my things, the polizeier talked to his chief, and said in German, which language they did not know I understood, that I had evidently concealed the documents somewhere in the room. Lying on the floor or climbing on the chairs, helping himself with an electric torch and with a sort of paper-knife which belonged to the arsenal of his professional belongings, he searched the carpet, the furniture, the bed, the shade of the electric light, the pipes of the bath--in a word, everything. The man seemed so keen on his job that I really felt sorry I had not anything with me which would give him the pleasure of a sensational discovery. He reminded me of a ratter in which the gift of search is sure and instinctive. When he thought he had found something behind the drawer of the dressing-table his eyes shone with delight, and his voice had suddenly an intonation of supreme joy. But he could only produce the catalogue of a furrier, evidently left by one of the former occupants of the room. Finally he had to give up searching, and the whole company departed, taking my passport and all my papers with them, promising another visit on the following morning, and informing me not to try and leave the hotel, or even my room, because such an attempt would be useless. The next morning, at seven o'clock, only the two civilians came back, and told me to dress as quickly as possible, and follow them to the Kommandantur. I said I was quite ready to please them, but, to teach them a little patience, had a comfortable bath, polished my nails to the highest possible brightness, spent as long as possible in shaving, dressing, and having my _petit déjeuner_, while the chambermaid was packing my luggage. When I followed the two polizeiern I said to her, "I hope you don't believe I have taken anybody's pocket-book?" "Certainly not, sir," she answered quite seriously. "All well-to-do people in Brussels have been taken to the Kommandantur this year; _l'arrestation est très portée à présent_." Reassured by the assertion of the witty maid, which I acknowledged with an extra tip, I went with my two companions to a smart motor-car waiting for us outside. I feel indebted to the Germans for the only motor ride I managed to have in Brussels, no public or private car being allowed on the road, unless for military or police service.