I saw the great Palace of Justice that towers above the city with the same emotions that one beholds the Statue of Liberty, but not until we had reached the inner boulevards did I feel safe.

There I bade my friend a grateful but hasty adieu, and in a taxicab, unwashed and unbrushed, I drove straight to the American legation.

To Mr.Whitlock I told this story, and with one hand that gentleman reached for his hat and with the other for his stick.

In the automobile of the legation we raced to the Hotel de Ville.

There Mr.Whitlock, as the moving-picture people say, "registered" indignation.