At length I went to the German Pass office in Brussels. It was called the "Pass-Zentrale," up in the Rue Royale, only a block from the King's palace. I there applied for a pass to LiÉge. I was told by the sentry to come back in the afternoon, at three o'clock. The office is only open from nine till twelve and from three to six. I went back at three. A young "smart aleck" of the name of Klenkum took my American passport from me and told me to come back the next morning between ten and eleven, giving me, as he spoke, a slip of paper which read, Zwischen zehn und elf. I went back next day and handed Klenkum the slip of paper, which he saucily laid on the other side of the desk and wrote another, telling me to come back in two days, or Sunday between ten and eleven. I was angry. He saw it, and said, "Prisoner, eh?" I did not answer. And so as I opened the door he rubbed it in, saying, Sehr gut, eh? With a sickly smile on my face, I replied, "Yes, very good," and went out. But I was simply boiling. I went to the office of Von Bissing and had quite a talk with him, but nothing came of it. I then went up to Mr. Whitlock and told him what they were doing with me. I said the Germans were keeping my American passport, which was a breach of international law, and playing a kind of "cat and mouse" game with me. Immediately he wrote a letter curtly demanding my passport and ordering them to give me a pass where I wanted to go. I took this letter up and delivered it at headquarters. Well, they ignored the letter entirely, and the pass was given me at the last moment Klenkum had indicated, namely, eleven o'clock on Sunday. But Klenkum was not the particular man who handed it to me. He sent me into another room to a higher officer. My pass was handed me by an important personage.

I was then given some instructions by no less a person than Von Bissing himself. But I had kept the road hot in front of the King's palace, between Mr. Whitlock's office, corner Rue de TrÈves and Rue Belliard, and the German Pass-Zentrale in the Rue Royale. This heckling, harassing policy of duplicity was the one which the German Government constantly employed, and when one reflects a moment and makes comparisons, he finds that it is the same policy which they have used in their diplomatic notes and business with the United States ever since the war began. It is almost impossible to pin them down to anything, and have any guarantee that they will keep their word.

As Viellaur, the officer in charge, finally handed me the passports, I jokingly said to him, "There's a good deal of red tape about getting a pass from the German Government, isn't there?"

"Well," he said, "of course we think you people are friendly to us, otherwise you wouldn't be able to get a pass at all. We conclude," he continued, "that you are friends, from what we see in the newspapers." I replied, "Well, that's about all a person has to go by, just what he sees in the newspapers." I left him to draw his own conclusions, while I caught the train.