At the police station a new and long interrogatory, followed by the seizure of all the money I had on me. Then I was confronted with a spy who had followed me about in my pilgrimage all over Belgium for five days. Not a single one of my moves had been missed from the moment I landed in Antwerp. A sort of long affidavit was drawn up containing all the accusations against me (I do not know exactly even now what they were), as well as my declaration and a complete list of the papers, books, and money I had with me. I asked permission to communicate with one of the neutral Consuls who are still in Brussels, but this was denied me, so I had to wait four or five hours, after which, having had a filthy German meal, always accompanied by my two polizeiern, in the canteen of an infantry regiment, I was taken to the Kommandantur. The canteen was prepared for the celebration of the Kaiser's birthday; flags and pictures of the War Lord were all over the walls, and in a passage were piles of little boxes, sent by the Berlin population to the troops as a homage to the Kaiser, and containing sweets, tobacco, chocolates, and dreadful-looking handkerchiefs with the whole royal family printed on them. The Kommandantur was in possession of the Palais de la Nation, and here I was kept waiting two hours. Then, I suppose, not to rid me of a good habit, I was searched once again, then asked to repeat exactly all that was in my passport. As I could not say the exact date of one or another _visé_ at the different Consulates, I was told that I had stolen the passport and a lot of other nonsense of the kind. I required all my large stock of patience and good humour to stand this trying time. It was getting dark, and I began to think that I should have to pass the night at the Kommandantur, when my adventure suddenly came to an utterly unromantic end by the intervention of a friend of mine who happens to be very influential in Brussels at the present moment. I feel rather ashamed about it. A stout colonel with the unavoidable iron cross, and the baldest head I have ever seen in my life, was interrogating me for the hundredth time, when he was suddenly put into the nicest of dispositions towards me by a letter sealed with a coat-of-arms I know quite well. It was brought to him on a silver tray by a Landsturm man. The colonel began to apologise, saying that he felt certain I should understand things, and that really nothing would have happened "if you had not looked so extremely English." I answered that I could not and did not wish to help my looks, and that I had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. "We happen to stay at the same hotel, I believe," he continued; "won't you dine with us to-night?" I thought it was my turn to have a little of my own back, and, looking straight at him, I answered in my very best argot, "Ah ça non par example!" and I stepped out, enjoying thoroughly the servile bows of the two men who had searched me in the morning.