ver
got farther than the office waste-paper basket.

Other officers in the camp would have written about him to their
friends, so that the information could be passed on to Jim's father;
but in all probability their letters also would have been suppressed,
and Jim refused to allow them to take the risk. Letters were too
precious, and went astray too easily; it was not fair to add to the
chances of their failing to reach those who longed for them at home.
And then, there was always the hope that his own might really have got
through, even though delayed; that some day might come answers,
telling that at last his father and Norah and Wally were no longer
mourning him as dead. He clung to the hope though one mail day after
another left him bitterly disappointed. In a German prison-camp there
was little to do except hope.

Jim would have fared badly enough on the miserable food of the camp,
but for the other officers. They received parcels regularly, the
contents of which were dumped into a common store; and Jim and another
"orphan" were made honorary members of the mess, with such genuine
heartiness that after the first protests they ceased to worry their
hosts with objections, and merely tried to eat as little as possible.

Jim thought about them gratefully on this last night as he slipped out
of the cupboard and made his way upstairs, moving noiselessly as a cat
on the bare boards. What good chaps they were! How they had made him
welcome!--even though his coming meant that they went hungrier. They
were such a gay, laughing little band; there was not one of them who
did not play the game, keeping a cheery front to the world and meeting
privation and wretchedness with a joke and a shrug. If that was
British spirit, then Jim decided that to be British was a pretty big
thing.

It was thanks to Desmond and Fullerton that he had been able to join
the "syndicate." They had plenty of money, and had insisted on
lending him his share of the expenses, representing, when he had
hesitated, that they needed his strength for the work of
tunnelling--after which Jim had laboured far more mightily than they
had ever wished, or even suspected. He was fit and strong again now;
lean and pinched, as were they all, but in hard training. Hope had
keyed him up to a high pitch. The last night in this rat-hole;
to-morrow----!

A light flashed downstairs and a door flung open just as he reached
the landing. Jim sprang to his dor