I kept on thinking out plans, and when an officer appeared I had one to submit.

I offered to give the money I had with me to any one who would motor back to Brussels and take a note to the American minister, Brand Whitlock.
My proposition was that if in five hours, or by seven o'clock, he did not arrive in his automobile and assure them that what I said about myself was true, they need not wait until midnight, but could shoot me then.
"If I am willing to take such a chance," I pointed out, "I must be a friend of Mr.Whitlock.If he repudiates me, it will be evident I have deceived you, and you will be perfectly justified in carrying out your plan." I had a note to Whitlock already written.

It was composed entirely with the idea that they would read it, and it was much more intimate than my very brief acquaintance with that gentleman justified.
But from what I have seen and heard of the ex-mayor of Toledo I felt he would stand for it.
The note read: "Dear Brand: "I am detained in a house with a garden where the railroad passes through the village of Ligne.

Please come quick, or send some one in the legation automobile.
"Richard." The officer to whom I gave this was Major Alfred Wurth, a reservist from Bernburg, on the Saale River.

I liked him from the first because after we had exchanged a few words he exclaimed incredulously: "What nonsense! Any one could tell by your accent that you are an American." He explained that, when at the university, in the same pension with him were three Americans.
"The staff are making a mistake," he said earnestly.