"In other words, you are an American with all the Belgian aristocracy's sense of responsibility to race and tradition. You are a good American, but there are inherited instincts which sent you back to serve two years with the colours--to serve a country which for ten hundred years your race has defended. And--the Guides alone was open to a Gueldres--where, in America, a Guild was free to choose. Monsieur, you are Belgian; and, as a Belgian, you were properly seized as a hostage and properly sentenced to pay the penalty for the murderous misbehaviour of your own people! I approve the sentence. Have you anything to say?" "No." The general regarded him closely, then rose, came around the end of the desk, walked across the room and halted directly in front of Guild. "So you see there is no chance for you," he said, staring hard at him. Guild managed to control his voice and speak clearly: "I see," he said. "Suppose," said von Reiter, still staring at him, "I ask you to do me a favour?" Guild's face was marble, but he managed to force a smile: "You ask a favour of a prisoner a few moments before his execution?" "I do. Will you grant it?" "What is it?" "Nothing dishonourable to a good--American." "That is not enough; and you know it." "Very well. I shall tell you then. I have a daughter in England. I can't get her away from England--I can't get word to her. I--" suddenly his dry, blond features twitched, but instantly the man had them under iron control again, and he cleared his throat: "She is in England near London. We are at war with England. I want my daughter out of the country. I can't get her out. Go and get her for me!" For a full minute the two men gazed at each other in silence. Then von Reiter said: "I know enough of you. If you say you'll do it I'll free the Burgomaster and the others in there--" he jerked his bony thumb toward the hallway outside--"If you say you'll do it--if you say you'll go to England, now, and find my daughter, and bring her here to me--or conduct her to whatever point I designate, I'll not have those men shot; I'll not burn the rest of Yslemont; I'll see that you are conducted to the Dutch frontier unmolested after you carry out your engagements with me. Will you do it?" [Illustration: "'If you say you'll do it, ... I'll not have those men shot'"] Guild met his intent gaze with a gaze as searching: "What is your daughter's name?" "Her name is Karen." "Where am I to find her?" "Thirty miles out of London at Westheath. She is known there as Karen Girard." "What!" said Guild sharply. "She chose to be so known in her profession." "Her profession?" "She has been on the stage--against my wishes. She is preparing herself further--contrary to my wishes. Until she disassociates herself from that profession she will not use the name of von Reiter." Guild nodded slowly: "_That_ is why your daughter is known as Karen Girard?"