r things settled back into the old rut again, with that never-ending
procession of citizens, refugees, soldiers, and even a sprinkling of
venturesome foreign tourists passing by in both directions.

"Oh! that doesn't cut much figure in the matter," Merritt told him,
"because if you step off this main street into one of the side _gassens_
you'll run across plenty of other milk-venders, who will not turn out to
be something else."

"I see one right now," announced the persistent Tubby, who did not like
to give up anything on which he had set his heart. "And look at the name
of the same, will you: _The Street of the Steen_. Now what does that
stand for, Rob? Is it the same as the German word _stein_?"

"Oh! no, you're away off there, Tubby," he was immediately told by the
patrol leader, who had studied his guide book to some advantage. "This
Steen used ages ago to be a terrible prison, where in the days of the
Spanish Inquisition they tortured people in all sorts of ways. Just now
it's a great museum; and if only we had time, which we don't expect, I'd
like nothing better than to explore it."

"You see," Merritt told them, "if only you would let me go on by myself,
and try to find Steven Meredith, you might stay around here and have a
fairly decent time, unless the Germans do really start to try and
capture Antwerp, after all."

"That'll do for you, Merritt," Rob informed him severely, "you forget
that incident is closed."

"Yes," added Tubby, trying to frown, but as usual making a sorry mess of
it, for the lines of his chubby face refused to take on such an air,
seeing that they were only adapted for smiling, "don't let us hear
another wheeze from you, Merritt. But please come with me, and let's
see if all the old milk-venders of Antwerp are German spies. I hope the
milk isn't poisoned."

"That isn't fair talk, Tubby, because you know the Germans would be away
and above doing anything like that. They have their faults, but nobody
calls them cowards. In fact, they seem to be too brave for their own
good, because we hear how they are shot down like ripe grain, pushing
along in masses straight into the jaws of death, and singing as they
go."

This time they were allowed to quaff their mugs of cool, fresh milk
without any unpleasant incident to interrupt the ceremony. Tubby did eye
the woman who owned the outfit rather suspiciously, and must have
aroused her curiosity by the way he turned his head several times after