“Most probably it is just another scare,” said Stewart. “War seems scarcely possible in these days—it is too cruel, too absurd. An agreement will be reached.”
“I am sure I hope so, sir; but it looks very bad. For three days now our troops have been passing through Aachen toward the frontier.”
“How far away is the frontier?”
“About ten miles. The customhouse is at Herbesthal.”
“Ten miles!” echoed Stewart in surprise. “The frontier of France?”
“Oh, no—the frontier of Belgium.”
“But why should they concentrate along the Belgian frontier?” Stewart demanded.
“Perhaps they fear an attack from that direction. Or perhaps,” she added, calmly, “they are preparing to seize Belgium. I have often heard it said that Belgium should belong to Germany.”
“But look here,” protested Stewart, hotly, “Germany can’t seize a country just because it happens to be smaller and weaker than she is!”
“Can’t she?” inquired the landlady, seemingly astonished at his indignation. “Why is that?”