“Jah!  All day!”

“How many?”

“May-be twenty-three!”

“How many have been shot?”

“Ach!  I cannot give prisoners news of that kind.  But I can tell you that there are three left, and you are one of them!”

I smiled to myself at the gaoler’s rigid observance of the letter of German prison law to refuse news to prisoners, yet giving the desired information in an indirect manner.

“When shall I hear the result of my trial?”

“Trial?  You have not been tried yet!”

“What?  You must be mistaken.  I was tried on Wednesday night!”

“That wasn’t the trial.  That was the enquiry!”

“Then when will the trial come off?”

“You’ll learn the result of the trial soon enough!” and he slammed the door to prevent further discussion.

I was completely flabbergasted.  I scratched my head and endeavoured to collect my thoughts.  Surely I could not have heard aright.  Yet the man must know what he was talking about.  The more I pondered the more perplexed I became.  Then the head-gaoler’s stress upon the word “result!” What did that portend?  New fears crept into my mind.  So when M——­, the under-gaoler, came round next morning, I badgered him, but he would say no more than that the trial had not yet come off.

I was completely unnerved and now commenced to fear the worst.  If the ordeal I experienced on the Wednesday night was not the trial, then what on earth was it?  I made up my mind to find out.  I rang the bell wildly and demanded to see the Commandant.  He sent down word to say he could not see me.  But I was insistent, and at last, to avoid further worry, he conceded an audience.

As I entered the office of the Commandant I was surprised to see him handling my little camera.  At my entrance he slipped it into his desk.  He looked at me curiously, and then grunted,

“What do you want?”

“I wish to know when my trial is coming off.  I thought I was tried last Wednesday night.”

“No!  That was the enquiry.  We’ll let you know the result of the trial pretty quickly,” and he grinned complacently, in which little pleasantry at my expense the officer of the guard joined in.

“I don’t want to know the result!  I want to be there!”

“That is impossible.  You gave all your evidence before the enquiry!”

“Then don’t I appear at my trial?”

“Certainly not!”

I was completely non-plussed at this confirmation of the head-gaoler’s statement.  It was a new way, to my mind, of meting out justice to a prisoner to deny him the right to appear at his own trial.  Truly the ways of Teuton jurisprudence or military court procedure were strange.

“Then when will my trial be held?” I asked, determined to glean some definite information.

“Ach!  We cannot be bothered with a single case whilst mobilisation is going on.  We are too busy.  You must wait,” and with that he dismissed me.