"Prisoner, stand up!" he commanded.
Chester arose from the chair in which he had been seated. His arms were bound behind him and his feet had been tied together; still he found that he could stand.
"Prisoner," continued the chief, "your name!"
"Chester Crawford," was the lad's firm reply.
"And what are you doing in Belgium in these troublous days?"
"I am attached to the staff of the Belgian commander at Liège," was the boy's prompt response.
"But what are you doing in Louvain?"
"I came here with dispatches."
"So? And yet you are not a Belgian, I take it; nor yet, French. What, then? An Englishman?"
"No; I am an American," said Chester proudly.