"I had no time to get my passport stamped at the Consulate at
Rotterdam," I said. "I arrived there too late in the evening. I could
not wait. I am going to Berlin on most important business."

"That's nothing to do with it," the man shouted. He was working himself
up into a fine frenzy. "Your passport is not in order. You're not a
German. You're an American. We Germans know what to think of our
American friends, especially those who come from London."

A voice outside shouted: "Nach Berlin alles einsteigen." I said as
politely as I could, despite my growing annoyance:

"I don't wish to miss my train. My journey to Berlin is of the utmost
importance. I trust the train can be held back until I have satisfied
you of my good faith. I have here a card from Herr von Steinhardt."

I paused to let the name sink in. I was convinced he must be a big bug
of some kind in the German service.

"I don't care a rap for Herr von Steinhardt or Herr von anybody else,"
the German cried. Then he said curtly to a cringing secretary beside
him:

"Has he been searched?"

The secretary cast a frightened look at the sentry.

"No, Herr Major," said the secretary.

"Well, take him away and strip him and bring me anything you find!"