_Mannheim, Wednesday, December 2d._ At half-past seven this morning I
was awakened from a sound sleep by a pounding at my door. I climbed
sleepily out of bed and, in pajamas, opened the door to two extremely
polite and suave Secret Service men who, nevertheless, examined my
papers with the greatest thoroughness and as carefully cross-questioned
me as to my race, color, and previous condition. They asked to see my
dispatches, whose seals they studied in order to be certain that I was
really carrying some sort of official messages. Having listened with
close attention to my story, they asked me out of a clear sky where
Donait was and why he had left me. They capped the climax by reminding
me that at Leopoldshöhe I had told the sergeant we were bound for
Berlin, which was exactly what I had told him, not having considered
the brief stop at Mannheim of sufficient importance to be mentioned.
When they had received a satisfactory explanation of the discrepancy
(the conversation having staggered along in German, of which my
knowledge is limited) they thanked me politely and withdrew....