He did not at first report, because he did not believe, the rumors of atrocities at Visé and elsewhere which were current in those early days. Few responsible men did take account of such fantastic nightmares. They were whispered in the prison nevertheless. But there came a Sunday in September when Roche, making a little pause after his summary, began again, gravely: "It is stated, and I believe it to be true, that the German army in Belgium is committing, by order and in cold blood, the foulest abominations. The old university town of Louvain and its splendid library have been burned to the ground and the inhabitants massacred. The same sort of thing is reported from other towns and villages. The men—peaceable working men—are driven out in batches and shot. The women are given to the soldiery and then bayoneted. Children have been shot, stabbed, mutilated, crucified. In the little town of Dinant—"
There was a slight disturbance. A prisoner in one of the back rows struggled to his feet and called out something; a couple of warders popped instantly out of their sentry-boxes and hustled him away. The chapel door closed upon them; Mr. Roche continued his address. The only person who recognized the brawler, and saw the significance of the incident, was Dr. Scott; and even he, though he had heard of the Bellevue, had never heard of Lettice Smith.
"Is the doctor within, mistress?"
"What d'ye want him for?"
"I would like a word with him."
"Well, you'll have to go without it, then. Think I'm goin' to rout him out from his breakfast for the likes of you? No fear!"
"I'm thinkin', mistress, he'll maybe no' be pleased if ye refuse. The thing is pressing—"
"And so's his breakfast pressing, ain't it? I've no patience with the lot of you—comin' trapesin' round here at all hours, never letting him get a bite in peace—"
"What's the matter, Katie?" asked Dr. Scott himself, coming out into the passage with his napkin in his hand. "Who wants me? Oh, it's you, Mackenzie, is it? What's brought you round here at this time of day?"