under Stevens' nose and went through the process of loading it,
meanwhile telling him that if he moved an inch his brains would be blown
out. A sergeant gently edged Stevens back out of the danger belt, and,
from behind the officer's back another man, so Stevens said, tapped
himself gently upon the forehead to indicate that the Herr Lieutenant
was cracked in the brain.

After this Stevens was taken into an improvised barracks in a deserted
Belgian gendarmerie and locked in a room. At nine o'clock the
lieutenant came to him and told him in a mixture of French and German
that he had by a court-martial been found guilty of being an English spy
and that at six o'clock the following morning he would be shot. "When
you hear a bugle sound you may know that is the signal for your
execution," the officer added.

While poor Stevens was still begging for an opportunity to be heard in
his own defense the lieutenant dealt him a blow in the side which left
him temporarily breathless. In a moment two soldiers had crossed his
wrists behind his back and were lashing them tightly together with a
rope.

Thus bound he was taken back indoors and made to sit on a bench. Eight
soldiers stretched themselves upon the floor of the room and slept
there; a sergeant slept with his body across the door. A guard sat on
the bench beside Stevens.

"He gave me two big slugs of brandy to drink," said Stevens, continuing
his tale, "and it affected me no more than so much water. After a
couple of hours I managed to work the cords loose and I got one hand
free. Moving cautiously I lifted my feet, and by stretching my arms