Dutch and Belgian names we could think of. We suspected that Jack
Rose and the man at our side understood more English than they
pretended. At all events, it had its effect. In half an hour we were
taken before the commissioner.

Two cigars lay on the edge of the table nearest us. I could see at a
glance that we were free.

"Do you speak English?" I asked him.

"No," he answered in our native tongue; "only French, Flemish,
German, and Italian--but not English." And with a grin he asked for
our passports.

"You are for the American newspapers?"

"Yes," I answered--"one of us is a lawyer who writes occasionally. I
am correspondent for a New York and a Boston paper, but I won't
cable anything from here." For this reason, I explained, no
movements of troops or news of military value could leak out.

"Ah, I see," said the commissioner who could not talk English. "An
amateur correspondent and a slow correspondent. But correspondents are
not at all tolerated in this province. It is five o'clock. You will
board the train leaving this province at 5.16 P.M."

From Maastricht to the Dutch capital is, under usual conditions, a
four-hour run to the north. During this trip we passed encampments
and fortifications of the 400,000 well-drilled but poorly equipped
troops which the Kingdom of the Netherlands, in the spirit of no