"We should have preferred that it were anything else," said Frieda coldly. "Come, Ken, I’ve something to say to you."
She hurried along the corridor, not heeding Hellwig’s bow as she passed. Kenneth followed her. Hellwig shrugged, and left the house with his friend.
"How did it come out?" asked Frieda, when Kenneth was alone with her in the drawing-room.
"They were talking under my window. He accused me of eavesdropping. I couldn’t help hearing them at first; and when I found out what they were at, of course I listened. You have come back alone?"
"Yes. I met Father. He says that your government has sent us an ultimatum, and war is certain. You must go home at once. Father sent me to tell you."
"All right. He sneered about my doing wonders for my country. I’ll do something better than spying. I’ll volunteer for the Flying Corps."
"No more dangerous than being in the firing line."
"But why do anything at all--of that sort, I mean? War is horrible--horrible!"
"It is, for everyone. I’m sure none of our people wanted it. But if we’re in for it, every fellow who can do anything will be required, and you wouldn’t wish me to skulk at home while others fight?"
"I’d rather you should fight than spy. You must make haste. Martial law is proclaimed. Father called at the station, and found that there will be a train at half-past nine to-night: it will probably be the last. And the stationmaster said that anyone who wanted to secure a seat must be early, for there’s sure to be a great rush. Have you done your packing?"
"Yes; there’s only one bag I need take. The less baggage the better. I’ll run down to the station and get my ticket now, to make sure of it."
"Don’t be long. Father will be back to dinner, and he wants to say goodbye to you, and to give you some messages for business friends in London."
Kenneth hurried to the station. There were signs of new excitement in the streets. Newsvendors were shouting that Belgium was invaded. People thronged the beer-shops, eagerly discussing the situation. Already there were cries of "Down with the English!" Tourists of all nationalities were flocking to the station and to the landing-stage for the Rhine steamers. Soldiers were everywhere.
At the station ticket office there was a long queue of people waiting. Kenneth saw little chance of obtaining a ticket for some time; but being well acquainted with the stationmaster, he sought his assistance and was provided with a written pass.