even Conrad
arrived in a motor with Monsieur de Leval. We went out and got in, and
drove in state to the Ecole Militaire, and, although I was boiling with
rage at the entire performance, I could not help seeing some fun in it.

Grant-Watson's butler was ordered to be ready to go at the same time. At
the last minute the butler came down and said perfectly seriously that
he would not be able to go until afternoon, as he had broken the key to
his portmanteau and would have to have another made. The Germans did not
see anything funny in that, and left him behind.

When we got to the Ecole Militaire, we were refused admittance, and had
to wrangle with the sentries at the door. After arguing with several
officers and pleading that we had a man with us who wanted to be put in
prison, we were reluctantly admitted to the outer gate of the building,
where British subjects are kept. When the keeper of the dungeon came
out, I explained to him that the butler had been detained, but would be
along in the course of the afternoon, whereupon the solemn jailer
earnestly replied, "Please tell him that he must be here not later than
three o'clock, or he can't get in!" And nobody cracked a smile until I
let my feelings get the better of me.

I was prepared for an affecting parting with Grant-Watson in consigning
him to the depths of a German jail, but he took it as calmly as though
he were going into a country house for a week-end party. I suppose there
is some chance that they may exchange him for a few wounded German
officers and thus get him back to England.

Since our snow-storm the other day, the weather has turned terribly cold
and we have suffered even with all the comforts that we have. And the
cheerful weather prophets are telling us that without doubt this will be
one of the coldest winters ever known. A pleasant prospect for the boys
at the front! Mrs. Whitlock and everybody else is busy getting warm
clothing for the poor and for the refugees from all parts of Belgium who
were unable to save anything from their ruined homes. It is bad enough
now, but what is coming....

Gustave has just come in with the cheering news that Ashley, our crack
stenographer, has been arrested by the Germans. They are making
themselves altogether charming and agreeable to us.

Max is spread out before the fire, snoring like a sawmill--the only
Englishman in Brussels who is easy in his mind and need not worry.

* *