Sluggishly the mass moved forward. Presently I saw it divide half-way
down the room, to pause before two openings at which six soldiers
waited, like ticket takers in a circus. I was near enough now to
observe the lantern light dimly shining upon two crude desk tops,
slanting down from the wall which gave entrance through a doorway to a
larger room beyond; and everywhere gleamed the glint of gun barrels,
the red and blue or gray of military hats, while an increasing flow of
German, punctuated with "_Donnerwetter!_" and "_Das ist genug_," was
heard above the shuffle of feet and the thumping of trunks and bags on
the counters in the room beyond. I wondered what two men in civilian
clothes were doing among the soldiers; I saw them dart about, notebooks
in hand. Later I learned more of these men who seemed to have it in
their power to make the passengers they challenged either comfortable
or uncomfortable.
And then it was my turn. Having seen the passenger in front throw both
hands over his head, unconsciously inviting the kind of search given a
criminal, I decided such submissiveness a blunder. As I expected, the
soldier was a perfectly sane human being who did not begin punching a
revolver against me--which certain printed words I had read in New York
implied was the usual prelude to a German searching party--rather this
soldier most courteously asked to see my wallet. I gave it to him. I
would have given him anything. Our coöperation was perfect. There was
no need for me to bring my exhaustive knowledge of the German language
into play. Talking fluently with my hands, now and then uttering
"_danke_," I tried to assist his search, meanwhile hopelessly looking
about for the courier. I was depending not only upon his fluent German
but also upon his superior knowledge of the situation to help me to
pass serenely through this ordeal. Alas, the crowd hid him.
Suddenly my soldier grunted something. Until now we had been getting
along splendidly and I could not conceal my surprise when he took from
my wallet a handful of letters and stared at them in bewilderment. The
more he stared the more his regard for me seemed to vanish. Although
he could not understand English he could recognize a proper name, for
the letters bore the addresses of decidedly influential men in Germany.
They challenged his suspicion. Thoroughly puzzled he opened the letters
and tried to read them. When he compared my passport with a letter I
saw his face light up. I realized that he had recognized my name in the
contents. Whereupon, greatly relieved, assured now that everything was
all right, I held out my hand for both letters and wallet. Not yet. A
rumble of words and the soldier called one of those busy civilians
with the notebooks.
This person spoke a little English. The letters interested him. Where
had I found them?... My spine began to feel cold. I replied that they
had been given me in New York and remembering that I had the courier
to rely on, I suggested that they have a word with him. It was then
that I heard an excited deluge of words and, glancing over my shoulder,
I observed that the courier was thoroughly flanked and surrounded by
five _Landwehr_ who apparently were much in earnest about something.
Concluding that some cog had slipped I racked my wits to make the best
of what was rapidly becoming a difficult situation.
The soldier having turned me over to the civilian I noticed several
suspicious glances in my direction, and blessed the luck that had
impelled me to go to the American Legation and the German Consulate in
Copenhagen for visés. That the civilian who was taking such an interest
in me belonged to the secret service, I was certain. I appealed to his
sense of discretion.
"Your passport seems all right," he thoughtfully observed, and opened
a little book. "Where are you going?"
I told him to Hamburg but could not tell him where I would stay, for
the excellent reason that not the name of a single Hamburg hotel was
known to me.
"Only for a few days, though," I said, adding hopefully; "after that I
go to Berlin to Hotel Adlon."
As fast as his pencil could move he wrote the address in his book.
"These letters," he said reluctantly, tapping them on his hand, "I
must take now. If everything is all right, they will be sent to you in
Berlin."
"But it is important that I have them," I protested, "they are my
introductions. You cannot tell me how long I may have to wait for them?
You can see from them that I am a responsible person known to your
people."
"I know," he replied, "but they are written in English, and to bring
letters written in English into Germany is forbidden. I am sorry."
He was thus politely relieving me of all my credentials when I happened
to think that in my inner waistcoat pocket lay a letter I had yet
to show them--a communication so important to me that I had kept it
separate from the others. Moreover I remembered it was sealed and that
properly used it might save the day. It was worth a trial.
Realizing that the thing had to be staged I impressively drew the
police spy aside and employing the familiar "stage business" of side
glances and exaggerated caution I slowly took the note--it was a mere
letter of introduction to the Foreign Office--from my waistcoat. If
the soldier's eyes had opened wide at the other addresses, the police
agent's now fairly bulged. Handing him the envelope I pointed to
what was typed in the upper left-hand corner--_Kaiserliche Deutsche
Botschaft, Washington, D. C._--and simply said "_Verstehen sie?_"
He _verstehened_. Being an underling he understood so well that
after a few moments he returned all the letters he had appropriated
and instantly changing his manner, he facilitated the rest of the
inspection. After my baggage was examined by more soldiers (and those
soldiers did their duty, even going through the pockets of clothes in
my trunks) I was told I might go.
"_Gute reise_," the police agent called--"Good journey."
Although treated with all courtesy I was afraid somebody might change
his mind, so hurrying out of the last room of the long wooden shed I
proceeded down the platform to the train at a pace that must have
shown signs of breaking into a run. There in my compartment the
thoughts that came to me were in this order:
There must be reason for such a rigid inspection; no doubt spies must
have been caught recently trying to enter Germany at Warnemunde.
If I hadn't lost the courier in the crowd there would have been plain
sailing.