From these strange discoveries I was prompted to make inquisitive enquiries.  I discreetly and in apparent idleness cross-questioned the guards and any other sources of information which were likely to prove fruitful.  My interrogations were so seemingly innocent as to draw immediate and comprehensive replies.  Stringing these fragments of information together, it was impossible to come to any conclusion other than that I had formed in my own mind, namely, that the straw upon which we had been lying for six months had been whisked off to the granary and had re-appeared among us in the guise of the staff of life!  It was not conducive to our peace of mind to think we had probably been eating our beds!

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During the early days, owing to the insufficiency of nutritious food, we were hard-pressed.  There were no canteens, but presently these appeared and we were able to purchase further limited supplies of food, at an all but prohibitive price I might mention, because the rascally German speculators had paid heavily for the privilege of being able to fleece the British.  When, at a later date, we received a weekly allowance of five shillings, the plight of everyone became eased materially, although, unfortunately, this sum went a very short way owing to the extortionate prices which prevailed.

One particularly atrocious scandal was associated with the arrival of some big crates of comforts sent out to us by one of the philanthropic missions at home.  The local stores suddenly blossomed forth with a huge and extremely varied stock of wearing apparel—­mufflers, socks, and other articles of which we were in urgent need.  I, among others, did not hesitate to renew my wardrobe, which demanded replenishment, particularly as the prices appeared to be attractive.  We were ignorant as to the origin of this stock, but it did not trouble our minds until my purchase of a pair of socks.  This precipitated an uproar, because within one of the socks I found a small piece of paper on which was written, undoubtedly by the hand which had diligently knitted the article, “With love from——.  To a poor British prisoner of war in Germany,” followed by the name of the Mission to whom the articles had been sent, doubtless in response to an appeal.

This discovery revealed the maddening circumstance that what had been sent out to Ruhleben for free distribution among the prisoners was actually being sold.  There was an enquiry which yielded a more or less convincing result according to one’s point of view.

There was also an outcry over the crates in which these articles were sent to us.  The party of which I was a member had removed from the loft to a horse-box beneath which had been vacated.  When we entered this attractive residence the walls were still covered with manure—­they were not given a dressing of whitewash until later—­while lying upon the bare floor, with only a thin sack of doubtful shavings between us and the stone, did not heighten our spirits.  But as we were becoming reconciled to our captivity, we decided to make our uninviting stall as homely as we could.  We decided upon a wooden bed apiece.  The authorities, after persistent worrying, only partially acceded to our demands by providing three primitive single beds for occupation by six men.