object was and how he came to know that I was an American was a mystery
to me. I was glad that the journey would last but an hour or so
longer. The train arrived at the capital late at night. As I went to
inquire about my luggage I saw my late fellow passenger joined by
another officer. The two began talking earnestly, giving me occasional
side-long glances. The mystery was deepening. In passing them I
caught words which sounded like "under another name" and "positive it
is he." This was anything but reassuring to me. At length they
disappeared, only to meet me outside the station. It got into my head
that I was a marked man. A feeling of discomfort took possession of
me. Germans are troublesome when they get an idea. I was glad to get
into the carriage which was to take me to my hotel. The driver seemed
to have some difficulty in starting the horse, but I gave this no
attention. When the vehicle did start it was with a rapidity which
alarmed me. Corner after corner was turned, and the lights went by in
flashes. It was taking a long time to reach my hotel, I thought.
Suddenly it dawned upon me that the direction we were going was
contrary to my instructions. I tried to open the window, but it
refused to move. Then I hammered on the pane, but the driver was deaf,
or purposely so.

"Hi there!" I thoughtlessly yelled in English, "where the devil are you
going?"

No one paid any attention to my cries. It was becoming a serious
matter. The lights grew fewer and fewer, and presently there were no
lights at all. We were, I judged, somewhere in the suburbs. I became
desperate and smashed a window. The carriage stopped so abruptly that
I went sprawling to the bottom. I was in anything but a peaceful frame
of mind, as they say, when the door swung open and I beheld, standing