A gendarme suddenly appeared, carrying a pigeon crouching in a woman's hat. He was followed by a wretched-looking woman in tears, with dishevelled hair, and by a shifty-looking individual. Both of them had a shrinking attitude as they were hustled along. The man kept repeating in a mechanical way: "Let us go! Let us go!"
"Down with all spies!" yelled the crowd and fists threatened the two Boches, as they disappeared under the archway. Several carts, under the care of a sub-officer, followed. They were full of weapons and war equipment of various kinds. The news soon spread that fifteen thousand guns had just been discovered in a cellar in St. Marguerite Street and more than fifty thousand lances, saddles, revolvers, and machine-guns in a house in Jonckeu Street, which, from cellar to attic, had been converted into a veritable arsenal. A thrill of anger ran through the whole crowd.
Inside the house which was the Headquarters of the Staff, feverish activity reigned. Night and day, without ceasing and without any rest, the officers had been at work, for, we may as well confess it, we had had too much faith in the loyalty of our neighbours, and the ultimatum had taken us by surprise. Everything had to be thought of and everything organised within a few days. Motor-cars, horses, cattle, and fodder had to be requisitioned. Houses in the firing line would have to be destroyed, trenches and shelters must be constructed. There were, in fact, thousands of things to be done, in order to complete and improve the defence of the Forts.
The telephone bell kept ringing and couriers rushed off every minute along the various routes, carrying orders from the Governor to the various points threatened.
Towards midnight, St.-Foi Street was silent again. At the Military Headquarters, the officers continued their work and, at the door of the building, a bureau carriage and several motor-cars were stationed.
Suddenly, shouts and cries of "Hurrah!" were to be heard. Surrounded by a crowd, wild with delight, an open motor-car appeared.
Standing on the cushions, Engineer Hiard was to be seen waving a German flag. It was the flag of the 89th Regiment of the Mecklenburg Grenadiers, which a soldier, Fernand Lange, had just taken at the Wandre bridge, at Herstal. Windows opened, and faces, with eyes puffed up with sleep, appeared. Bare arms were to be seen waving handkerchiefs, and the enthusiasm was beyond all words.
Gradually the tumult ceased once more and there was silence again. Day broke and a dim light illumined the street. Suddenly a motor-car appeared through the morning mist, and two lancers, who were seated in it, cried out, "The English are here!" Behind them were five German officers, preceding soldiers in grey uniform marching in two ranks and shouldering guns.[3]
A crowd of men and women of the people accompanied them, shouting joyfully: "Long live the English!" Commander Marchand was standing in the doorway of the Headquarters building, smoking a cigarette. He looked at the procession in amazement, wondering whether the men were truce-bearers or deserters. He advanced a few steps to meet them in a hesitating way.
Inside the building, the officers were still at work, taking no notice of the noise in the street. By chance, Commander Delannoy went to the window. His office is on the second floor and looks on to St. Leonard Street. He saw about thirty Germans in this street. He rushed back to the landing shouting: "The Germans are here!" Commander Vinçotte, who was on the first floor, loaded his revolver and rushed down the stairs. Commander Buisset and Lieutenant Renard followed him.