“Frau Ritter,” said the officer in German, “you will take this lady into the office and disrobe her. Bring her clothing to me here—all of it.”
Again Stewart started to protest, but the officer silenced him with a gesture.
“It is useless to attempt resistance,” he said, sharply. “I must do my duty—by force if necessary. It will be much wiser to obey quietly.”
The girl rose to her feet, evidently reassured by the benevolent appearance of the woman.
“Do not worry, Tommy,” she said. “It will be all right. It is of no use to argue with these people. There is nothing to do but submit.”
“So it seems,” Stewart muttered, and watched her until she disappeared through the door.
“Now, sir,” said the officer, sharply, “your clothes.”
Crimson with anger and humiliation, Stewart handed them over piece by piece, saw pockets turned out, linings loosened here and there, the heels of his shoes examined, his fountain-pen unscrewed and emptied of its ink. At last he stood naked under the flaring light, feeling helpless as a baby.
“Well, I hope you are satisfied,” he said, vindictively.
With a curt nod, the officer handed him back his underwear.