Part 9 (2/2)

”Well,” he went on, ”you can have what you like.”

Thump went my heart again. The verdict had certainly gone against me.

For what other reason had I been offered what I liked to eat? It sounded ominous. It recalled our practice in Britain where a condemned man is given his choice of viands on the morning of his execution. Most a.s.suredly I was going to be shot on the following morning, and daybreak was not far distant.

”I should certainly have something to eat if I were you,” suggested the officer.

”Oh, very well,” I replied resignedly, ”I'll have a roll, b.u.t.ter, and a black coffee.”

Directly the officer had gone I rang the emergency bell. M----, the under-gaoler, answered it. With a tremendous effort I pulled myself together.

”So I'm going to be shot in the morning,” I ventured, in the hope of drawing some comment.

”Ach! What? Lie down and keep quiet!” was his stolid retort.

”Look here! I want to write to my wife. Can you get me a pencil and a sheet of paper?”

”Impossible!”

”But I must write. She does not know where I am, and she will not know what has become of me!”

[*large gap]

German military prisons hold their secrets tightly.

But the time crept on and no guard appeared as I had been dreading. My drooping spirits revived because the hour of the day when prisoners were customarily shot had pa.s.sed. When I went out into the yard on the Tuesday morning I chanced to meet the two Hindoos who had been arrested with me. Then I realised that they were two out of the three remaining spies. I was the third. They were in high spirits. When the guard was not looking they told me they had been acquitted of the espionage charge, and expected soon to be taken as far as the frontier to be released.

I was the only one left, and I had not been told the result of my trial.

Yet these two Hindoo students who also had been before the Court on the Wednesday had learned the verdict in their cases. But I had been denied all communication. I regained my cell in a kind of stupor. To me it seemed that all was lost, and I fell into the depths of despair. When the friendly M---- came with my breakfast I pestered him with questions.

”Has the court been sitting?”

”Yes, all day Monday and all last night.”

”Have you heard the result of my trial?”

”No.”

”But the two Hindoos have been acquitted. Have I?”

”I cannot say,” he replied sullenly.

The manner in which he avoided my eager look served to confirm my worst fears. I strove hard to draw something further from him, but he briefly remarked that he was forbidden to speak to prisoners.

I scarcely knew what to think. To me it was extraordinarily strange that the two Hindoos should have heard of their acquittal and yet no one seemed to know anything about my case. No! There was only one construction to be placed upon the situation. The Court had gone against me. My thoughts throughout that day were most unenviable. I fretted and fumed, wondering when it would all be over. My nerves started to twitch and jump, and within a short while I could not keep a limb still. The fearful suspense was certainly driving me mad.

Later in the day an escort arrived, and to my surprise and intense relief the officer informed me that I was not going to be shot. I took this for an acquittal, but I was speedily disillusioned. I was taken to the office of the Commandant.

Reaching this official I was surprised to see among a stack of other baggage my own belongings. The Commandant sharply ordered me to sort my things out, and to run through them to see that everything was intact. I could have danced for joy. Like an excited child I fell upon the baggage, disentangled my belongings, and ran through the contents. Two purses and a camera were missing. I reported my loss, and there was a terrific hullaballoo. Who had touched a prisoner's goods? The purses were brought in by the gaoler, who declared to me that, finding they contained money, he had put them in his pocket for safety. I smiled at his ingenuous excuse. Now I worried about the missing camera, but this defied discovery. Suddenly I remembered where I had seen it last and kept quiet.

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