“Excuse me ...”  I said in German.

“I won’t excuse you,” he roared.  “Who are you?  What do you want in Germany?  You’ve been to London, I see by this passport.”

“I had no time to get my passport stamped at the Consulate at Rotterdam,” I said.  “I arrived there too late in the evening.  I could not wait.  I am going to Berlin on most important business.”

“That’s nothing to do with it,” the man shouted.  He was working himself up into a fine frenzy.  “Your passport is not in order.  You’re not a German.  You’re an American.  We Germans know what to think of our American friends, especially those who come from London.”

A voice outside shouted:  “Nach Berlin alles einsteigen.”  I said as politely as I could, despite my growing annoyance: 

“I don’t wish to miss my train.  My journey to Berlin is of the utmost importance.  I trust the train can be held back until I have satisfied you of my good faith.  I have here a card from Herr von Steinhardt.”

I paused to let the name sink in.  I was convinced he must be a big bug of some kind in the German service.

“I don’t care a rap for Herr von Steinhardt or Herr von anybody else,” the German cried.  Then he said curtly to a cringing secretary beside him: 

“Has he been searched?”

The secretary cast a frightened look at the sentry.

“No, Herr Major,” said the secretary.

“Well, take him away and strip him and bring me anything you find!”

The sentry spun on his heel like an automaton.

The moment had come to play my last card, I felt:  I could not risk being delayed on the frontier lest Stelze and his friends should catch up with me.  I was surprised to find that apparently they had not telegraphed to have me stopped.

“One moment, Herr Major,” I said.

“Take him away!” The fat man waved me aside.

“I warn you,” I continued, “that I am on important business.  I can convince you of that, too.  Only ...” and I looked round the office.  “All these must go.”

To my amazement the fat man’s anger vanished utterly.  He stared hard at me, then took off his spectacles and polished them with his handkerchief.  After this he said nonchalantly:  “Everybody get outside except this gentleman!” The sentry, who had spun round on his heel again, seemed about to speak:  his voice expired before it came out of his mouth:  he saluted, spun round again and followed the rest out of the room.

When the place was cleared I pulled my left brace out of the armhole of my waistcoat and displayed the silver star.

The fat man sprang up.

“The Herr Doktor must excuse me:  I am overwhelmed:  I had no idea that the Herr Doktor was not one of these tiresome American spies that are overrunning our country.  The Herr Doktor will understand....  If the Herr Doktor had but said ...”

“Herr Major,” I said, endeavouring to put as much insolence as I could into my voice (that is what a German understands), “I am not in the habit of bleating my business to every fool I meet.  Now I must go back to the train.”