At the Palais de Justice the adjutant was not to be seen; so our guide
volunteered to write a note of introduction for us. Standing in a
doorway of the building, where a light burned, he opened a small flat
leather pack that swung from his belt, along with the excellent map of
Belgium inclosed in a leather frame which every German officer carried.
We marveled that the pack contained pencils, pens, inkpot, seals,
officially stamped envelopes and note paper, and blank forms of various
devices. Verily these Germans had remembered all things and forgotten
nothing. I said that to myself mentally at the moment; nor have I had
reason since to withdraw or qualify the remark.

The next morning I saw the adjutant, whose name was Renner and whose
title was that of major; but first I, as spokesman, underwent a search
for hidden weapons at the hands of a secret service man. Major Renner
was most courteous; also he was amused to hear the details of our
taxicabbing expedition into his lines. But of the desire which lay
nearest our hearts---to get back to Brussels in time haply to witness
its occupation by the Germans--he would not hear.

"For your own sakes," thus he explained it, "I dare not let you
gentlemen go. Terrible things have happened. Last night a colonel of
infantry was murdered while he was asleep; and I have just heard that
fifteen of our soldiers had their throats cut, also as they slept. From
houses our troops have been fired on, and between here and Brussels
there has been much of this guerrilla warfare on us. To those who do
such things and to those who protect them we show no mercy. We shoot
them on the spot and burn their houses to the ground.

"I can well understand that the Belgians resent our coming into their