I began to see what they hoped to gain by the trick of
detaining me, but how they got word of my mission I have never been
able to learn. I must have been shadowed from my lodging to the
Wilhelmstrasse and subsequently lain in wait for on general
principles.
According to the time-table, the Orient Express stops at Cologne nine
minutes. This time it stopped eleven. The station master held it up.
After the party in the next compartment made their charge, we all
hurried to his office. I called the station master aside and showed
him my Secret Service card.
I showed him a package addressed and sealed to the German Embassy at
Paris. It was an official linen envelope tied with a black and white
silk cord and with the Foreign Office seal on the back. He was
impressed.
"This is a ridiculous charge," I declared. "Telephone the
Wilhelmstrasse at my expense. Detain me and you do so at your own
peril. That is all. I have given you the facts. I put no obstacle
in the path of your duty. I judge, though, that you are a man of
discretion."
The station master _was_ a man of discretion. I could imagine what
was going through his mind:
"This fellow who says he is the Emperor's messenger," he doubtless
thought, "has three more hours on that train before he crosses the
German border. If he isn't what he claims to be, we can catch him at
the Frontier.
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