British Legation; a portion of the second floor was used by the
Russian Legation; if you dashed into a certain bedroom you could claim
Roumanian protection, and in another you were, theoretically, in Greece;
while on the upper floor extra-territoriality was exercised by the
Republic of China. Every evening all the ministers and diplomats met
in the big rose-and-ivory dining-room--the white shirt-fronts of the
men and the white shoulders of the women, with the uniforms of the
Belgian officers and of the British, French and Russian military
attaches, combining to form a wonderfully brilliant picture. Looking
on that scene, it was hard to believe that by ascending to the roof
of the hotel you could see the glare of burning villages and hear the
boom of German cannon.

As the siege progressed and the German lines were drawn tighter,
the military regulations governing life in Antwerp increased in
severity. The local papers were not permitted to print any accounts
of Belgian checks or reverses, and at one time the importation of
English newspapers was suspended. Sealed letters were not
accepted by the post office for any foreign countries save England,
Russia and France, and even these were held four days before
being forwarded. Telegrams were, of course, rigidly censored. The
telephone service was suspended save for governmental purposes.
At eight o'clock the trams stopped running. Save for a few
ramshackle vehicles, drawn by decrepit horses, the cabs had
disappeared from the streets. The city went spy-mad. If a man
ordered Sauerkraut and sausage for lunch he instantly fell under
suspicion. Scarcely a day passed without houses being raided and
their occupants arrested on the charge of espionage. It was
reported and generally believed that those whose guilt was proved
were promptly executed outside the ramparts, but of this I have my