e only
balm in that period of stress. I had little further desire to accept
hospitality from a stranger simply because I happened to be from the
same country as his granddaughter.

But greatest of all reasons why I should leave was because I had now
completely recovered from my wound, and the War of the World was waging
within 100 miles of me.

My job was "action on the firing line" and not lolling in security as a
guest of an enemy! Now that my wound had healed and my strength had
knitted firmly again, I felt I was a traitor in giving my parole not to
escape.

That August morning, when I made my first daily call at the barracks, I
stated to the officer to whom I generally reported, that I was going to
try and escape. He first seemed somewhat surprised, but soon broke into
a laugh. Turning, he spoke laughingly to another officer, who joined in
the hilarity.

"So you're going to escape, eh?" he said. "Well, we don't think you
will. If you intended to escape you would not be so foolish as to tell
us about it; and then, if you did attempt it, you could not get out of
Cologne with an English face like yours. That's alright," he repeated,
"you will report this afternoon as usual."

I stood awhile.

"There is the door," he said. "Good morning, we are busy."

I returned and acquainted Miss Goche of my action.

I explained there were two reasons for my giving notice. I could now
attempt to get away without breaking my parole; and now no blame could
be placed on the Goche household for my escape.

I need not here mention the scene that followed, but I may state I was
aware that my departure had taken on a new aspect. I knew I was leaving
one for whom I had now more than friendship, one whom I found had risked
much to make me secure. She admitted that, without doubt, my duty lay
beyond the Rhine.

"But you will please me greatly if you will report at the barracks this
afternoon, as usual," she said.

I did so, and was met by an officer with an "I told you so" smile.

I left the Goche home that afternoon at dusk. I did not intend to cross
the river at Cologne. The way west would be too black with grim
forebodings. The best opportunity of escaping seemed to be south, down
the right bank of the Rhine to Coblenz, then crossing to the Rhine
mountains, going south into Luxembourg, and then keeping east, trusting
to good fortune to get through the German lines into the Vosges.

Miss Goche accompanied me as far as the pa