One curious thing he noticed at once about the great house. No flag was
flying from it, though it boasted a sort of turret from which a flag
might well have been flung out to the wind. All the other big houses he
had seen had had flags out and the absence of a standard here seemed
significant, somehow.

When he entered the village he found that there was no inn. He saw the
usual notice of mobilization and the proclamation of war, but the people
were not stirring yet. He had to wait for some time before he found a
house where people were up. They looked at him curiously, but grudgingly
consented to give him breakfast. There was an old man, and another who
was younger, but crippled. And this cripple was the one who seemed most
puzzled by Fred's appearance in the place. He surveyed him closely and
twice Fred caught him whispering, evidently about him.

Then the cripple slipped away and came back, just as Fred was finishing
his meal, with a pompous looking, superannuated policeman, recalled to
duty since the younger men had all gone to war. This man asked many
questions which Fred answered.

"You are American?" asked the policeman, finally. "You are sure you are
not English?"

All at once the truth came over Fred. They thought he was English! Then
England must have entered the war! They would think that he was an
enemy, perhaps a spy! Yet, though he knew now the cause of the
suspicious looks, the mutterings, he couldn't utter a word in his
defence. He hadn't been formally accused of anything.