h me. On its weighted canvas bag
is written in ink: "Urgent! You are requested to forward this at once
to the inclosed address. From His Majesty's airship ----."

The sight of the press-censor stamp reminded an English officer, who
had lived in Belgium, of the way letters to and from interned Belgians
have been taken over the frontier into Holland and there dispatched.
Men who are willing to risk their lives for money collect these
letters. At one time the price was as high as two hundred francs for
each one. When enough have been gathered together to make the risk
worth while the bearer starts on his journey. He must slip through the
sentry lines disguised as a workman, or perhaps by crawling through
the barbed wire at the barrier. For fear of capture some of these
bearers, working their way through the line at night, have dragged
their letters behind them, so that in case of capture they could drop
the cord and be found without incriminating evidence on them. For
taking letters into Belgium the process is naturally reversed. But
letters are sent, not to names, but to numbers. The bearer has a list
of numbers which correspond to certain addresses. Thus, even if he is
taken and the letters are found on him, their intended recipients will
not be implicated. I saw a letter which had been received in this way
by a Belgian woman. It was addressed simply to Number Twenty-eight.

The fire was burning better behind its automobile hood. An orderly had
brought in tea, white bread, butter, a pitcher of condensed cream, and
an English teacake. We gathered round the tea table. War seemed a
hundred miles away. Except for the blue uniforms and brass buttons of
the officers who belonged to the naval air service, the orderly's
khaki and the bayonet from a gun used casually at the other end of the
table as a paperweight, it was an ordinary English tea.

CHAPTER XXII

THE WOMEN AT THE FRONT

It was commencing to rain outside. The rain beat on the windows and
made even the reluctant fire seem cosy. Some one had had a box of
candy sent from home. It was brought out and presented with a
flourish.

"It is frightful, this life in the trenches!" said the young officer
who passed it about.

Shortly afterward the party was increased. An orderly came in and
announced that an Englishwoman, whose automobile had broken down, was
standing on the bridge over the canal and asked to be admitted. She
did not know the password and the sen