I proceeded vehemently to point out my innocence, when he interrupted my story by asking, “But why did you make that Schreibfehler on your paper?” He followed my recital anxiously and sympathetically, and, looking me full in the face, asked, “Can you tell me on your Ehrenwort (word of honor) that you are not a spy?  Remember,” he added, solemnly, “on your Ehrenwort.”

Grasping both of his hands and looking him in the eye, I said, most fervently, “On my Ehrenwort, I am not a spy.”

There was an earnestness in my heart that must have communicated itself to my hands, because he winced as he drew his hands away; but he said, “I shall try to put in a word for you; I can’t do much, but I shall do what I can.  I must go now.  Good-by.”

Chapter III

A Night On A Prison Floor

“Prisoners are to be taken over into the left wing for the night,” said an orderly to the guards.

We had scarcely turned the corner, when an officer cried:  “Not that way, Dummkopf!”

“Our orders are for the left wing, sir,” said the orderly.

“Never saw such a set of damned blockheads!” yelled the officer in exasperation.  “Can’t you tell the difference between right and left?  Right wing, right wing, and hurry up!”

A little emery had gotten into the perfect-running machine.  The corridors fairly clanged with orders and counter orders.  After much confusion the general mix-up of prisoners was straightened out and we were served black bread and coffee.

The strain of the day, along with the fever I had from exposure on the battlefields, made the rough food still more uninviting, especially as our only implements of attack were the greasy pocketknives of the peasants and canteen covers from the soldiers.  The revolt of my stomach must have communicated itself to my soul.  I determined for aggressive action on my own behalf.  I resolved to stand unprotesting no longer while a solid case against me was being constructed.  Not without a struggle was I to be railroaded off to prison or to Purgatory.  Pushing up to the next officer appearing in the room, in firm but courteous tones I requested, as an American citizen, the right to communicate with the American authorities.

He replied very decently that that was quite within my privileges, and forthwith the opportunity would be accorded me.  I was looking for paper, when there came the order for all of us to move out into the courtyard.  With a line of soldiers on either side, we were marched through labyrinthine passages and up three flights of stairs.  Here we were divided into two gangs, my gang being led off into a room already nearly filled.  We were told that it was our temporary abode, and we were to make the best of it.  It was an administrative office of the Belgian Government now turned into a prison.  There were the usual fixtures, including a rug on the floor and shelves of books.  Ours was only one of many cells for prisoners scattered through the building.  The spy-hunters had swooped down upon every suspect in Belgium and all who had been caught in the dragnet were being dumped into these rooms.