caught sight of me.

The excitement was intense and the chant "Bring him out! Give him to us!
Let us lynch him! Down with the English spy!" even began to grate upon
me. At the time it appeared to me to be somewhat extraordinary, seeing
that we were not at war with Germany, but it conveyed a graphic
illustration of the anti-British sentiment prevailing in the military
centre. Indeed, the crowd became so menacing that my guard became
apprehensive of my safety, and I was hurriedly thrust into an inner
room. My removal there was more abrupt than dignified. I was hustled to
the door. Then a German soldier, by an adroit movement of his rifle
which he held reversed, pricked my leg with the bayonet and at the same
time brought the butt against my head with a resounding thwack!
Simultaneously he let drive with his heavily-booted foot in the small of
my back. I discovered afterwards, from actual experience, that this is a
very favourite movement of the rifle by the Germans, and is used on
every possible occasion.

The outcome of this action was to send me sprawling headlong into the
room to pull up with a crash against the floor. The entrance was
rendered additionally dangerous to myself because I stumbled over the
legs of several sleeping soldiers. I felt inclined to remonstrate with
the officer-in-charge of the escort at the treatment I was receiving,
but the uninviting armed sentry at the door frustrated my efforts very
effectively.

It was an improvised guard-room. The soldiers sprawled upon the straw
littering the floor, striving to snatch a brief rest before going on
duty, sleepily raised themselves to ascertain the cause of the
disturbance. The sentry told them excitedly the charge upon which I had