I tried to keep myself thinking normally, but the thought would come pushing in upon me, like a ghostly face at a window, that the guard had forgotten us.  I told myself over and over again that we had come in at noon, and this was the first day; it was bound to be long, I must wait!  They—­had—­not—­forgotten us.

* * *

I knew exactly what I should look like when they found me.  My hair would be long, falling over my shoulders, and my beard—­not red, but white—­would be down to my waist,—­for people live for weeks on water, and my nails would be so long they would turn back again... and my hands would be like claws, with the white bones showing through the skin, and the knuckles knotted and bruised.  I remembered seeing a cat once that had been forgotten in a cellar...  It had worn its claws off, scratching at the wall.

Then a chill seized me, and I began to shiver.  That frightened me, so I made a bargain with myself—­I must not think, I must walk.  Thinking is what sends people crazy.

I got up then and began to pace up and down.  Twelve feet each way was twenty-four feet.  There were five thousand two hundred and eighty feet in a mile—­so I would walk a mile before I stopped—­I would walk a mile, and I would not think!

I started off on my mile walk, and held myself to it by force of will, one hundred and ten rounds.  Once I lost the count and had to go back to where I did remember, and so it was really more than a mile.  But when it was done, and I sat down, beyond a little healthy tingling in my legs I did not feel at all different.  I was listening—­listening just the same.

Ted and I had agreed that if we were side by side, we would pound on the wall as a sign.  Four knocks would mean “I—­am—­all—­right.”  I pounded the wall four times, and listened.  There was no response.

Then, for a minute, the horror seized me—­Ted was dead—­every one was dead—­I was the only one left!

If the authorities in our prisons could once feel the horror of the dark cell when the overwrought nerves bring in the distorted messages, and the whole body writhes in the grip of fear,—­choking, unreasoning, panicky fear,—­they would abolish it forever.

* * *

After an eternity, it seemed, the key sounded in the lock and the guard came in, letting in a burst of light which made me blink.  He came over to the window, swung open the iron door, and the cell was light!

“What time is it?” I asked him in German.

He knew his business—­this guard.  He answered not a word.  What has a prisoner to do with time—­except “do” it.  He handed me a broom—­like a stable broom—­and motioned me to sweep.  It was done all too soon.

He then took me with him along the hall to the lavatory.  At the far end of the hall and coming from the lavatory, another prisoner was being brought back with a guard behind him.  His clothes hung loose on him, and he walked slowly.  The light came from the end of the hall facing me, and I could not see very well.