We now felt pretty safe from immediate pursuit, and turning off to the right we made a semicircle round the camp and crossed the causeway between the two lakes. There was a good chance that our absence would not be discovered for another sixteen hours, that is, till the 11.30 roll-call next morning. We had about 16 to 20 kilometres to go to Goslar station, but as it was not yet 7 o'clock, and as our train left at 2.13 a.m., we had heaps of time. Besides this, Kicq knew the first 6 miles or so, having been that way on a walk. The walk to Goslar was almost without incident. We had two compasses, which had been made in the camp by a Belgian, and we had a sketch map of the way, which was mostly through pine forests. We were really overcautious and made wide detours round houses and took great pains not to meet any one on the road. All this was most unnecessary, as our civilian kit was quite good as I afterwards proved, and we both spoke German well enough to pass off as Germans for a few words. After walking fast for a couple of hours we found we were much ahead of time and so halted for half an hour at the foot of the Brechen, a huge tower built for sight-seeing purposes on the highest hill in the neighborhood. Soon after half-past one we entered Goslar and walked boldly through the town, saying what we had to say to each other in German; but we only saw one man, who took no notice of us. The station was easily found, and as there were twenty minutes before the train started we sat on a bench at the side of the road and waited till 2.05 a.m. before entering the station. Kicq wished to buy tickets for both of us, but I insisted on our having nothing to do with one another during the journey. We decided that Kicq was to go in first and buy a ticket for DÜsseldorf if the train went as far, and if not, for Elberfeld. At 2.05 a.m. I followed him at about 150 yards distance into the station, and found that the booking office was not yet open, and that some dozen people were waiting to take tickets. Our appearance apparently caused no suspicion, and we both of us examined the time-tables on the walls in the hope of finding out if the train went to DÜsseldorf. I should very much like to have known how much the ticket would cost, but could get no information on either point. Kicq looked a proper Hun in knee-breeches, dark puttees, brown boots, a German cape, and no hat. The fashion of going bareheaded had scarcely come in then, though hat cards had been lately introduced. Kicq told me afterwards that my own mother would not have known me. I wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and walked with a bit of a stoop and a limp. My clothes were green, with a collar that buttoned right up to the neck. I wore an ordinary black cap, and carried a black mackintosh over my arm. We both of us had our hair cut short, and our moustaches had been training for some time and curled up a bit at the ends. At last the ticket office was opened and we got into the queue. I could not hear what ticket Kicq took, so I said, "Dritte nach DÜsseldorf Schnellzug" when my turn came. The clerk made some remark which I did not catch, so I added another 5 marks to the 20-marks note which I had put down. He had apparently asked if I had any small change, as he pushed back my 5-marks note and gave me a lot of change and my ticket. I pretended to count it and then stuffed it into my pocket and was jolly glad to get that business over. After I had taken my ticket I lost sight of Kicq, but the man who clipped my ticket at the barrier told me from what platform the train for DÜsseldorf went. I put my bag down and sat in a dark corner on one of the benches and lit a German cigar. Kicq was walking up and down, and I did so too, though we took no notice of each other. The train was rather late, and I dared not go near my bag as an officer and a girl were standing close to it. When the train came in and I picked up the bag the girl gave me a suspicious look, but she did not have time to say anything, as I grabbed the bag and scrambled into a third-class coach. I did not see Kicq again till we met once more in prison.

Before I go any farther with my story, I will tell you how Kicq was caught. He told me about it in prison, but I cannot be certain that I have remembered all the details accurately. He got into a third-class coach and stood in the corridor. After he had been there a short time an officer came up and talked to him, and as the train rocked about a good deal they had to shout to make themselves heard. The officer did not seem to suspect anything wrong with the accent. Kicq talked German perfectly fluently, but in my opinion he has rather a curious accent. In answer to a question he told the officer that he had been on a walking tour, during his holiday, in the Harz Mountains, and numerous other lies. When asked if he had served in the army he said he had been paralyzed in the arm from infancy, and then was forced to tell more lies of a complicated nature. Kicq swore the fellow did not suspect anything, but was merely a conscientious ass. Evidently the officer asked to be allowed to look at Kicq's passport. Kicq said he was sorry he had not got it on him; he had never found it necessary to carry a passport, and he had never been asked for it before. The officer said that any letters he had on him would do, just to prove his identity. Kicq answered that for the last few days he had been walking and he had received no letters. The Bosche, apologizing, said he was sorry he would have to ask him to identify himself by telephone from the next station, but that he was officially bound to do so under the circumstances. Kicq said that of course he would be delighted to do so, and went to the lavatory, where he got rid of everything by which it would be possible to identify him as a prisoner of war. At the next station he intended to bolt as soon as the train stopped, but for some reason he had no chance of doing so. At the next station he said he was a Swiss deserter, and refused to give his name for the sake of the honor of his family. During the next twenty hours he told the most amazing number of lies, and at the end was very nearly sent to a civilian camp to be interned there pending investigations. Of course that was just what he wanted, as he had managed to hide money on his person and was quite confident that he would have no difficulty in escaping from any civilian camp. Unfortunately he was identified by an Unteroffizier sent from Clausthal for the purpose. But if he had not succeeded in his main object, he had at any rate concealed his identity for twenty-four hours, and thereby greatly increased my chances.

To return to my story. After getting into the third-class coach I made my way along the corridor, looking for a seat. The train was rather crowded, and the first carriage I tried to get into was half full of soldiers. I asked if there was a seat free, and was told, "Nur militÄrisch." By this time I had completely got over all feelings of nervousness, and was thoroughly enjoying the whole situation. A little farther on a young fellow saw I was looking for a place, and coming out into the corridor said he was getting out next station and I could have his corner place. This suited me very well, as I got a seat next to a woman. So I sat in the corner, pulled the curtain over my face, and went to sleep. I did not wake up again till we got to Elberfeld about 6 a.m. At Elberfeld a number of people got in, and the carriage was crowded with business men. A pretty lively discussion started, and I was afraid of being asked for my opinion, so I buried myself in the paper I had bought at Elberfeld and soon pretended to be asleep again. We got to DÜsseldorf between 8 and 9, I think. I could see no signs of Kicq as I got out, and not caring to loiter about too much on the platform I went through the barrier and waited about in the main hall, through which he would have to pass to leave the station. After waiting for ten minutes I became anxious about him, and turned over all the probabilities in my mind. (1) He might have been recaptured in the train. (2) He might have taken a ticket to Elberfeld, under the impression the train only went as far as that. In this case he would come on soon, and I searched the time-tables without much success to find out when the next train from Elberfeld to DÜsseldorf came in. (3) He might be waiting for me in some other part of the station, but as it was obviously easier for him to come out through the barrier than for me to go in, I decided that I was waiting in the most suitable place and had better stay there for a bit. In the meantime, according to our scheme, I asked for a plan of the town from a bookstall. The old man who sold it to me had to get it from the main bookstall, and then chatted very pleasantly to me on the weather, the war, and the increase of paper money with every new war loan. I confined my remarks to "Ja wÜnderschÖn," "Da haben Sie recht," "Ja wohl, es geht nicht so schlimm," "Kolossal," etc., but nevertheless began to get enormous confidence in my German. I also bought a local time-table. After waiting for about half an hour I did not like the way an old fellow in uniform, a sort of station official, was looking at me, so with the help of my plan I made my way to the river. I spent the next four hours in DÜsseldorf, going to the station at intervals to see if Kicq had turned up. Our plan was to get hold of a Dutch bargee, so that I thought I had almost as good a chance of meeting him on the riverside as at the station, besides which the aforesaid old man at the station had got a nasty suspicious look in his eye. I bought some apples from an old lady in the market-place by the river, and then went to a quiet spot and ate some sandwiches and considered the situation. As far as I could see, there was nothing at all promising in the way of bargees on the river. I knew that an English officer had escaped from Crefeld, and that from Crefeld to the frontier was only about twenty or thirty miles. I soon saw from my time-table that I could get a tram to Crefeld across the Rhine, so I inspected the bridge over the Rhine, and as far as I could see no passes were asked for, from those going over in the tram. Before I did anything more, it seemed to me absolutely necessary to have some sort of map of the frontier, so I determined to try to buy one. I walked back once more along the riverside, and, as it was hot, tried to buy some milk in a milk shop. The woman said something about a milk card, so I said, "Ah, I forgot," and walked out. I went back once more to the station by tram (I was getting tired of lugging my bag about, and used the trams pretty freely). On the way there I went into a bookshop and bought a map of Nord Deutschland and then asked for a Baedeker. The woman said she did not think she was allowed to sell that, and called her husband, who turned out to be a German N.C.O. He said that, owing to the number of suspicious persons, spies, prisoners of war, etc., he had to be very careful to whom he sold maps. I said, "NatÜrlich, das verstehe ich wohl" (Naturally, I can well understand that). Just then I caught sight of a map marked "Umgebungen von Krefeld" (The Neighborhood of Crefeld), and asked to look at it. It was just what I wanted, an excellent map of Crefeld to the frontier, about 1:100,000. I bought this and cleared out, without, I think, arousing any suspicion. My confidence in my German was now "kolossal"! There was, of course, no sign of Kicq at the station, so I took the tram for the park in order to have lunch and a quiet look at my map. After I had been there a short time and had made up my mind as to my plan of campaign, I noticed an old gentleman observing me in a suspicious manner. He was obviously stalking me and trying to get a better look at me and my map. I waited till he had gone round a bush and then packed up rapidly, walked round another bush, and going through a sort of shrubbery got out of the park and boarded the first tram I saw. After traveling I know not where on this, I got out, and making my way to the river, strolled once more along the docks, keeping a lookout for Kicq, and then walked up the main street (always carrying my bag) to Prince Afold Platz, from where my tram to Crefeld started. A pointsman showed me the place from which the trams left every half-hour, so after one more visit to the station I caught the one o'clock tram. The girl conductress on the tram said I was on the wrong tram when I asked for my ticket. She gave me the ticket, however, and told me to get out at the first station over the Rhine and get into the next tram. At the first station over the Rhine I got out, and seeing a Bierhalle asked for a glass of beer. I had just given the woman a mark when my tram came in, so without waiting for the change I grabbed my bag and made off. She ran after me, but I pointed to the tram and called, "It does not matter, I have no time," and boarded the tram.