representatives?"
"We were all in the dining-room of the Hotel Poste under guard. At the Burgomaster's dictation I was writing out a proclamation warning the inhabitants of Yslemont not to commit any act of violence against the German soldiery and explaining that we were held as hostages for their good behaviour and that a shot fired at a German meant a dead wall and a squad of execution for us and the destruction of Yslemont for them—" He flushed, hesitated.
"Continue," said the general.
"While I was still writing the shots were fired. We all went to the window and we saw Uhlans galloping across the fields after some peasants who were running into the woods. Afterward two stretchers came by with Germans lying in them. After that an officer came and cursed us and the soldiers tied our hands behind our backs. We sat there in the dining-room until the Uhlans came riding into the street with their prisoners tied by ropes to their saddles. Then a major of infantry came into the dining-room and read our sentence to us. Then they marched us out into the fog."
The general crossed his spurred boots under the desk and lay back in his chair, looking at Guild all the while.
"So you are American, Mr. Guild?"
"Yes, General."
"In business in New York?"
"Yes."
"What business?"
"Real estate."
"Where?"
"Union Square, West."
"What is the name of the firm in which you are associated?"
"Guild and Darrel."
"Is that your partner's name?"
"Yes. Henry Darrel."
"Why are you here in Belgium?"
"I was making a foot tour in the Ardennes."
"Your business vacation?"
"Yes. I was to meet my partner in Luxembourg and return to New York with him."
"You and your partner are both absent from New York at the same time?"
"Yes."
"How is that?"
"Real estate in New York is quiet. There is practically no business now."
The general nodded. "Yes," he said, "much of what you tell me has been corroborated. In the Seegard Regiment of Infantry Number 569 you were recognized by several non-commissioned officers and men while you stood with the hostages awaiting—ah—justice," he added drily.
"Recognized?" repeated Guild.
"The soldiers who recognized you had served in New York hotels as clerks or waiters, I believe. The captain of that company, in consequence, very properly reported the matter to Colonel von Eschbach, who telephoned to me. And I am here to consider the matter."
Then, folding his arms and looking hard at Guild out of narrowing eyes that began to slant again:
"The hostages of Yslemont have justly forfeited their lives. Two of my officers have been murdered there in the streets. The law is plain. Is there any reason why these hostages should not pay the proper penalty?"
"The Burgomaster was in the act of dictating——"
"He should have dictated faster!"
"These gentlemen did not fire the shots——"
"But those over whom they exercised authority did!"
Guild fell silent and his features paled a little. The general watched him in silence for a moment and an inquiring expression came into his narrow eyes.
"Well?" he said at length.
Guild lifted his eyes.
"Well, sir," repeated the general. "I have said that there is no reason why the hostages taken at Yslemont should not be turned over to the squad of execution outside there in the hallway."
"I heard you say it."
The general looked at him curiously. "You have nothing to say?"
"No."
"Not for yourself?"
"No."
"As a matter of fact, Mr. Guild, what was your ultimate object in passing through Yslemont?"
"I have already told you that I had intended to make a foot tour through the Three Ardennes."
"Had intended?"
"Yes."
"Was that still your intention when you were made prisoner?"
After a moment's hesitation: "No," said Guild in a low voice.
"You altered your plan?"
"Yes."
"You decided to employ your vacation otherwise?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I decided to enlist," said Guild. He was very white, now.
"Enlist?"
"Yes."
"In the British army?"
"The Belgian."
"Oh! So now you do not remind me that, as an American, you claim exemption from the execution of the sentence?"
"I have said enough," replied Guild. A slight colour showed over his cheek-bones.
"If I shoot the Burgomaster and the notary and the others in there, ought I to let you go—on your own representations?"
"I have said enough," repeated Guild.
"Oh! So you refuse to plead any particular exemption on account of your nationality?"
No answer.
"And you, by your silence, permit yourself to be implicated in the responsibility of your fellow-hostages?"
No reply.
"Why?—Mr. Guild. Is it, perhaps, after all because you are not an American in the strictest sense of that often misused term?"
There was no response.
"You were born in America?"
"Yes."
"Your father, perhaps, was born there?"
"Yes."
"Oh! And his father?"
"No."
"Oh! You are, I see, quite candid, Mr. Guild."
"Yes, when necessary."
"I see. Very well, then. Where do you get your Christian name, Kervyn? Is it an American name?"
"No."
"The name, Guild—is that an American name?"
"Yes."
"But—is it your name?"
"Yes."
"Was it, by chance, ever spelled a little differently—in times gone by, Mr. Guild?"
"Yes."
"Oh! And how, in times gone by, was it spelled by your—grandfather?"
Guild looked him calmly in the eyes. "It was spelled Gueldres," he said.
"I see, I see. That is interesting. Gueldres, Kervyn Gueldres. Why, it sounds almost Belgian. Let me see—if I remember—there was such a family inscribed in the Book of Gold. There was even a Kervyn of Gueldres—a count, was he not?—Comte d'Yvoir—Count of Yvoir, Hastière, and Lesse. Was he not—this Kervyn of Gueldres, many, many years ago?"
"I