The
lady appealed to the officer.
"I know you," she said. "We have met as equals and friends. How can you
let this be done?"
"This is war," he replied.
No call of chivalry, of the loyalties of guest and host, is to be
listened to. And for the perpetrating of this cold program years of
silent spy treachery were a perfect preparation. It was no sudden
unrelated horror to which Germans had to force themselves. It was an
astonishing thing to simple Belgian gentlemen and gentlewomen to see the
old friendly German faces of tourists and social guests show up, on
horseback, riding into the cities as conquerors where they had so often
been entertained as friends. Let me give you the testimony of a Belgian
lady whom we know. She is now inside the German lines, so I cannot give
her name.
[Illustration: THE HOME OF A GERMAN SPY NEAR COXYDE BAINS, BELGIUM.
He had a deep gun foundation, concealed by tiling, motors, hydraulic
apparatus--a complete fortification inside his villa.
[This photograph would have been better if it had not been developed in
the ambulance of one of the American Field Service, but it shows the
solid construction of the hidden flooring, the supporting pillars, one
of the motors and one of the gas pipes.]]
"When the German troops entered Brussels," she states, "we suddenly
discovered that our good friends had been secret agents and were now
officers in charge of the invasion.
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