When we drew near, a cry broke from him—­

“Sim!” he cried.  “Good God!...  I thought you were in Holland.”

It was Bromley!

Then the guard poked him in the back and sent him stumbling past me. 
I turned and called to him, but my guard pushed me on.

* * *

I put in as much time washing as I could, hoping that Ted would be brought out, but I did not see him that day or the next.

At last I had to go back, and as the guard shoved me in again to that infernal hole of blackness, he gave me a slice of bread.  I had filled my pitcher at the tap.

This was my daily ration the first three days.  I was hungry, but I was not sick, for I had considerable reserve to call upon, but when the fourth day came I was beginning to feel the weariness which is not exactly a pain, but is worse than any pain.  I did not want to walk—­it tired me, and my limbs ached as if I had la grippe. I soon learned to make my bread last as long as it would, by eating it in instalments, and it required some will-power to do this.

Thoughts of food came to torture me—­when I slept, my dreams were all of eating.  I was home again, and mother was frying doughnuts....  Then I was at the Harvest-Home Festival in the church, and downstairs in the basement there were long tables set.  The cold turkey was heaped up on the plates, with potatoes and corn on the cob; there were rows of lemon pies, with chocolate cakes and strawberry tarts.  I could hear the dishes rattling and smell the coffee!  I sat down before a plate of turkey, and was eating a leg, all brown and juicy—­when I awakened.

There is a sense in which hunger sharpens a man’s perceptions, and makes him see the truth in a clearer light—­but starvation, the slow, gnawing starvation, when the reserve is gone, and every organ, every muscle, every nerve cries out for food—­it is of the devil.  The starving man is a brute, with no more moral sense than the gutter cat.  His mind follows the same track—­he wants food...

Why do our authorities think they can reform a man by throwing him into a dark cell and starving him?

* * *

There was a hole in the door, wide on the inside and just big enough on the outside for an eye, where the guards could spy on us.  We could not get a gleam of light through it, though, for it was covered with a button on the outside.

On the fourth day I had light in my cell, and it was aired.  Also, I got soup that day, and more bread, and I felt better.  I saw Ted for a few seconds.  He was very pale, but bearing it well.  Though the sunburn was still on his face, the pallor below made it ghastly; but he walked as straight as ever.

I climbed up to the window, by standing on the platform, and could just see over.  Down below in the courtyard soldiers were gathering for roll-call, and once I saw recruits getting their issue of uniforms....  Sometimes the courtyard was empty, but I kept on watching until the soldiers came.  At least they were something—­and alive!  During the light day, probably as a result of the additional food, I slept nearly all day.