the two hours since we had left headquarters a
complete change had been made in the staff. At any rate, an
officer whom we had not seen before came out and addressed us
in English. We told him that we were Americans.

"Well, let's see what you know about New York," he said.

We displayed an intensive knowledge of Coney Island and the
Great White Way, which he deemed satisfactory.

"Nothing like them in Europe!" he assured us. "I did enjoy those
ten years in America. I would do anything I could for one of you
fellows."

He backed this up by straightway ordering our release, and
authenticated his claim to American residence by his last shot:

"Now boys, beat it back to Brussels."

We stood not on the order of our beating, but beat at once.

One may pick out of such an experience precisely what one
wishes to pick out: the imbecile hatred in the Teuton--the perfidy of
the British--the efficiency or the blundering of the German--or
perchance the foolhardiness of the American, just as his
nationalistic bias leads him.

So, from the narratives in this book, one may select just the
material which supports his theory as to the merits or demerits of
any nation. To myself, out of these insights into the Great
Calamity, there has come re-enforcement to my belief in the
essential greatness of the human stuff in all nations. Along with
this goes a faith that in the New Internationalism mankind will lay
low the military Frankenstein that he has created, and realize the
triumphant brotherhood of all human souls.

Part I
The Spy-Hunters Of Belgium

Chapter I

A Little German Surprise Party

"Two days and the French will be here! Three days at the outside,
and not an ugly Boche left. Just mark my word!"

This the patriarchal gentleman in the Hotel Metropole whispered to
me about a month after the Germans had captured Brussels. They
had taken away his responsibilities as President of the Belgian
Red Cross, so that now he had naught to do but to sit upon the
lobby divan, of which he covered much, being of extensive girth.
But no more extensive than his heart, from which radiated a genial
glow of benevolence to all--all except the invaders, the sight or
mention of whom put harshness in his face and anger in his voice.

"Scabbard-rattler!" he mumbled derisively, as an officer
approached. "Clicks his spurs to get attention! Wants you to look
at him. Don't you do it. I never do." He closed his eyes tightl