You'd have no chance on earth.

My own name is Arnheim, Wilhelm von Arnheim." "And mine's John Scott," said John, as he walked straight ahead.
They passed through a wood and into another field, where a large body of Prussian cavalry was waiting.

A tall man, built heavily, stood beside a horse, watching a distant corner of the battle through glasses.

John knew that uncompromising figure at once.

It was von Boehlen.
"A prisoner, Captain," said von Arnheim, saluting respectfully.
Von Boehlen turned slowly, and a malicious light leaped in his eyes when he saw John on foot before him, and wholly in his power.
"And so," he said, "it's young Scott of the hotel in Dresden and of the wireless station, and you've come straight into my hands!" The whimsical humor which sometimes seized John when he was in the most dangerous situation took hold of him again.