ay he came to my cell in the
uniform of a warder. Consequently I saw a good deal of him, and, he
being friendly, we had many brief snatches of surreptitious
conversation. He was highly intelligent, well-educated and sympathetic.
I enquired as to how he happened to be in our unsalubrious avenue. He
informed me that he was awaiting the Kaiser's pardon. His offence was
not heinous. He had not responded to his country's call, upon
mobilisation, with the celerity which the officials declared he should
have shown. As a punishment he was committed to the cells for three
days. Upon the expiration of this sentence he had been made
under-gaoler. His name was M----, and he told me he had a prosperous
business outside Germany.

I was on the tip-toe of anticipation and suppressed excitement
throughout Thursday and Friday, hoping for news concerning the decision
of the Tribunal. But when Friday passed without my receiving any tidings
I commenced to get fidgety and anxious. My feelings were not assuaged by
hearing volleys ring out every morning, followed by a death-like
stillness. These reports appeared to stifle the cries and groans of the
prisoners a little while. To me the sounds presaged serious news.
Apparently there were several prisoners condemned for spying, and each
volley, I was told, signified the flight of one or more hapless souls.
My spirits were not revived by noticing the cells on either side of me
rapidly emptying, while the little party which went down into the yard
in the morning began to dwindle in numbers very rapidly.

When the head-gaoler came round on Friday night I decided to tackle him.
The suspense was becoming intolerable. By this time he had become
somewhat more friendly towards me, and if in the mood would talk for a
brief while.

"Were any other prisoners tried on Wednesday as spies?" I asked
innocently.

"Jah! All day!"

"How many?"

"May-be twenty-three!"

"How many have been shot?"

"Ach! I cannot give prisoners news of that kind. But I can tell you that
there are three left, and you are one of them!"

I smiled to myself at the gaoler's rigid observance of the letter of
German prison law to refuse news to prisoners, yet giving the desired
information in an indirect manner.

"When shall I hear the result of my trial?"

"Trial? You have not been tried yet!"

"What? You must be mistaken. I was tried on Wednesday night!"

"That wasn't the trial. That was the enquiry!"

"Then when will