"Yes."

"Fall in!"

With a shriek of anguish, the woman threw her arms about him and strained him close.

"My boy!" she moaned. "My youngest one—my baby—they are taking you also!"

"I shall be back, mother, never fear," he said, and loosened her arms gently. "You will write me when—when it is over."

"Yes," she promised, and he took his place in the ranks.

"March!" cried the sergeant, and the section tramped away with Gronau in its midst. At the corner, he turned and waved his hand in farewell to the old woman. For a moment longer she stood clutching at the door and staring at the place where he had vanished, then turned slowly back into the house.

CHAPTER IV

THE MYSTERY OF THE SATIN SLIPPERS

Stewart, awakening from the contemplation of this poignant drama—one of thousands such enacting at that moment all over Europe—realized that he was lingering unduly and hastened his steps. At the end of five minutes, he was again in the wide Franzstrasse, and, turning the last corner, saw his landlady standing at her door, looking anxiously up and down the street.

Her face brightened with relief when she saw him—a relief so evidently deep and genuine that Stewart was a little puzzled by it.

"But I am glad to see you!" she cried as he came up, her face wreathed in smiles. "I was imagining the most horrible things. I feared I know not what! But you are safe, it seems."

"Quite safe. In fact, I was never in any danger."

"I was foolish, no doubt, to have fear. But in times like these, one never knows what may happen."

"True enough," Stewart agreed. "Still, an American with a passport in his pocket ought to be safe anywhere."

"Ah; you have a passport—that is good. That will simplify matters. The police have been here to question you. They will return presently."

"The police?"

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