Forthwith I launched out.  I am naturally a rapid speaker and although my interpreter was confronted with a gigantic task, he performed his work magnificently.  Only once or twice did he falter for a moment or two.  But I was never interrupted nor asked to repeat a statement, so that the thread of my story remained unbroken.  For two hours and a half I spoke and I think the readiness and clearness with which I proceeded must have impressed the Court.  As I warmed to the subject my head grew clearer and clearer.  I knew I was fighting for my life, but the whole of the episodes and scenes during the critical fifty odd hours passed through my mind as if delineated upon a continuous cinematograph ribbon of film.

Midnight had passed before I had finished.  The clerks of the Court had been steadily writing during the whole period, and I knew that every word I had uttered had been faithfully recorded.  The Tribunal gave a sigh of relief as I intimated that I had nothing more to say.  I was returned to my cell, accompanied by my interpreter, whom I thanked for his assistance which I could never repay.  The Court might decide what it liked.  I had put up a stiff fight and could do no more.  I thought I was to be left alone for the night.  I was sorely in need of rest, and the nervous tension under which I had been labouring now began to reveal itself.  The reaction commenced to set in.  But there was no rest for me yet.  Hardly had I sat down upon my plank bed before I was re-summoned.  By this time I was so weak that I could hardly stand.  The perspiration was pouring out all over my body.  Indeed, I had to be assisted up the stairs.

To my utter surprise, when I entered the court, I found the record of my defence completed.  There it was in a pile of neatly inscribed sheets, numbered, and secured together.  The Chairman pushed the depositions before me.

“Sign here,” and he indicated the foot of the last page.

I picked up the papers.  They were in German.  I returned them unsigned to the table.

“I decline!” I replied emphatically.

“But you must!”

“Well, I shall not.  I don’t understand German.  I don’t know what it’s about!”

“It’s your defence!”

“So it may be, but I have only your word for that.  I decline to sign anything I do not understand.  It may be my death warrant!”

“If you don’t sign I can tell you that we have means of making you do so,” he continued somewhat menacingly.

“I don’t care.  You can do as you like, but I am not going to sign those papers.”

My determination provoked another animated discussion.  Finally another pile was pushed towards me, I could not curb a start.  It was my defence written throughout in English, and had undoubtedly been written simultaneously with the German version.  I eyed the Clerk of the Court narrowly and he returned the gaze just as keenly.

I ran through the depositions.  They were perfect.  Picking up the pen I signed my name without hesitation.  The signature was inspected, and then the original German papers were once more presented with the invitation to sign.  Again, I refused.