“I do not remember it.  But if you live in Ghent, why are you in Dunkirk?”

He cast an indignant glance at his questioner, but Uncle John’s serene expression disarmed him.

“Monsieur is not here long?”

“We have just arrived.”

“You cannot see Belgium from here.  If you are there—­in my country—­you will find that the German is everywhere.  I have my home at Brussels crushed by a shell which killed my baby girl.  My land is devastate—­my crop is taken to feed German horse and German thief.  There is no home left.  So my wife and my boy and girl I take away; I take them to Ostend, where I hope to get ship to England.  At Ostend I am arrested by Germans.  Not my wife and children; only myself.  I am put in prison.  For three weeks they keep me, and then I am put out.  They push me into the street.  No one apologize.  I ask for my family.  They laugh and turn away.  I search everywhere for my wife.  A friend whom I meet thinks she has gone to Ypres, for now no Belgian can take ship from Ostend to England.  So I go to Ypres.  The wandering people have all been sent to Nieuport and Dunkirk.  Still I search.  My wife is not in Nieuport.  I come here, three days ago; I cannot find her in Dunkirk; she has vanished.  Perhaps—­but I will not trouble you with that.  This is my story, ladies and gentlemen.  Behold in me—­a wealthy landowner of Liege—­the outcast from home and country!”

“It is dreadful!” cried Patsy.

“It is fierce,” said the man.  “Only an American can understand the horror of that word.”

“Your fate is surely a cruel one, Maurie,” declared Mr. Merrick.

“Perhaps,” ventured Beth, “we may help you to find your wife and children.”

The Belgian seemed pleased with these expressions of sympathy.  He straightened up, threw out his chest and bowed very low.

“That is my story,” he repeated; “but you must know it is also the story of thousands of Belgians.  Always I meet men searching for wives.  Always I meet wives searching for husbands.  Well! it is our fate—­the fate of conquered Belgium.”

Maud brought him a deck chair and made him sit down.

“You will stay here to-night,” she said.

“That’s right,” said Dr. Gys.  “He can’t resume his search until morning, that’s certain.  Such a tumble as he had would have killed an ordinary man; but the fellow seems made of iron.”

“To be a waiter—­a good waiter—­develops the muscles,” said Maurie.

Ajo gave him a cigarette, which he accepted eagerly.  After a few puffs he said: 

“I heard the German bombs.  That means the enemy grows insolent.  First they try to frighten us with bombs, then they attack.”

“How far away do you think the Germans are?” asked Beth.

“Nieuport les Bains.  But they will get no nearer.”

“No?”

“Surely not, mamselle.  Our soldiers are there, awaiting them.  Our soldiers, and the French.”