Page 178 - A Hero of Liége

Pariset was much depressed.

"We shall cease to exist," he said one day. "The brutes will destroy us all.
They are ruthless. They are fiends. What have we done that we should

suffer so?"

"Cheer up, old man," said Kenneth. "Look here! 'Gallant little Belgium!'"

He pointed to the headline of an article in an English newspaper. "You
might have chosen the easy course; you didn't, and the whole world

admires you."

"But that won't save us."

"No, but you've saved France. You've thrown the German war machine out

of gear, and I bet you you've smashed their chances. Lord Kitchener is
raising a great army. The Kaiser scoffs at our men; he'll sing a different
tune some day. I'm going home, Remi, going to join Kitchener's army.

Sorry to leave you, old man, but we'll meet again, never fear, perhaps soon,
perhaps not until British, French and Belgians meet the Russians in Berlin.

And when the war is over, you may be sure that gallant little Belgium will
rise like the phoenix, and grow stronger and more prosperous than ever."

Four days later Kenneth was in London. He found awaiting him at home a
bulky envelope addressed in a strange hand, the postmark Amsterdam.
Opening it, he took out two letters, dated a week back, and posted in

Konigsborn. One was in the handwriting of Max Finkelstein, the other in
the large round hand of Frieda.

"I hope this will reach you," the former wrote. "I am sending it through my
friend Vandermond. After a few days' detention as a spy, I was released for

want of evidence, and as business is absolutely dead, we have come to
Konigsborn, where we shall rusticate and pinch until this dreadful war is

over. We hear all sorts of tales, and the credence paid them by otherwise
intelligent people makes me think that we as a nation have a good deal to