I have a German princess's[75] jewels in our safe--$100,000 worth of them in my keeping; I have an old English nobleman's check for $40,000 to be sent to men who have been building a house for his daughter in Dresden--to be sent as soon as the German Government agrees not to arrest the lady for debt.

I have sent Miss Latimer[76] over to France to bring an Austrian baby eight months old whose mother will take it to the United States and bring it up an American citizen! The mother can't go and get it for fear the French might detain her; I've got the English Government's permission for the family to go to the United States.

Harold[77] is in Belgium, trying to get a group of English ladies home who went there to nurse wounded English and Belgians and whom the Germans threaten to kidnap and transport to German hospitals--every day a dozen new kinds of jobs.
London is weird and muffled and dark and, in the West End, deserted.

Half the lamps are not lighted, and the upper half of the globes of the street lights are painted black--so the Zeppelin raiders may not see them.

You've no idea what a strange feeling it gives one.