However, no sign from Colonel Grau was received that day.  Patsy went to bed with a nervous headache and left Uncle John and the captain to smoke more than was good for them.  Both the men had now come to regard their situation as serious and as the American consul was at this time absent in Brussels they could think of no way to secure their freedom.  No one knew when the consul would return; Mr. Merrick had been refused the privilege of using the telegraph or mails.  During one of their strolls they had met the correspondent of an American newspaper, but when the man learned they were suspects he got away from them as soon as possible.  He did not know Mr. Merrick and his own liberty was too precarious for him to argue with Colonel Grau.

“I’m beginning to think,” said Uncle John, “that we’re up against a hard proposition.  Letters and endorsements from prominent Americans seem to have no weight with these Germans.  I’d no idea our identity could ever be disputed.”

“We must admit, sir,” returned the captain, reflectively, “that the spy system in this war is something remarkable.  Spies are everywhere; clever ones, too, who adopt every sort of subterfuge to escape detection.  I do not blame Grau so much for caution as for lack of judgment.”

“He’s a blockhead!” cried Mr. Merrick testily.

“He is.  I’m astonished they should place so much power in the hands of one so slow witted.”

“He has insulted us,” continued Uncle John.  “He has dared to arrest three free-born Americans.”

“Who came into a troubled country, occupied by a conquering army, without being invited.”

“Well—­that’s true,” sighed the little millionaire, “but what are we going to do about it?”

“Wait,” counseled the captain.

The next day dawned dark and rainy and the weather had a depressing effect upon the prisoners.  It was too damp to stir out of doors and the confinement of the hotel rooms became especially irksome.  Not only were they anxious about their own fate but it was far past the time when they should have heard from Henderson and Rondel.  Patsy’s nerves were getting beyond her control; Uncle John stumped around with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and a frown wrinkling his forehead; the captain smoked innumerable pipes of tobacco and said not a word.  Von Holtz, noting the uneasiness of his charges, discreetly forbore conversation and retired to a far corner where he hid behind a book.

It was nearing evening when a commotion was heard on the stairs, followed by the heavy tramp of feet in the corridor.  A sharp rap sounded on the door of their sitting room.  Uncle John stepped forward to open it, when in stalked a group of German officers, their swords and spurs clanking and their cloaks glistening with rain-drops.  At sight of the young girl off came cap and helmet and with one accord they bowed low.

The leader was a tall, thin man with a leathern face, hooked nose and piercing gray eyes.  His breast glittered with orders.  It was von Kargenbrut, the military governor.