on the coarse barley-meal bread and goats' milk cheese. They
had had nothing since their 'emergency' breakfast and they finished the
food to the last crumb.

'That's better,' said Roy. 'Now I'm ready for anything.' As he spoke the
key turned in the lock, the door opened, and in stumped Henkel. He closed
the door behind him, and stood facing the two young fellows.

'So we meet again, Kenneth Carrington,' he said. Like most German
officers, he spoke excellent English, though with a thick, unpleasant
accent.

Ken did not answer. It did not seem worth while. He stood facing the
other, watching him with a slightly contemptuous expression in his clear
blue eyes.

'We meet under different conditions from the last time,' continued Henkel.
'There is now no Othman Pacha to protect you from your just fate.'

Ken shrugged his shoulders.

'Why talk that sort of rot? You know just as well as I do that the last
thing we shall get is justice.'

Henkel flushed slightly, but he kept his temper.

'What! Do you not shoot spies in your own army?'

'We are not spies. We went too far in the charge yesterday when we smashed
up your people. We could not get back. We are prisoners of war and should
be treated as such.'

'That is your story,' replied Henkel. 'We have plenty of evidence to the
contrary. Any commanding officer would be justified in shooting you out of
hand.'

'The evidence against us,' said Ken, 'is that of Kemp, late bathroom
steward aboard the "Cardigan Castle," a man who has a personal grudge
against me because I caught him signalling to an enemy submarine.'

'Again your unsupported statement,' said Henkel.

'It's the truth,' growled Roy from the background.

'Your evidence in a case like this is valueless,' said Henkel shortly. He
turned to Ken again.

'Have you heard from your father since you last saw him?' he asked
suddenly.

The question took Ken unawares.

'From my father?' he said, with sudden eagerness. 'No. Is he alive?'

There was a gleam of triumph in Henkel's prominent eyes.

'Yes,' he answered. 'He is alive and--under the circumstances--well.'

'I--I thought' began Ken and stopped.

'You thought that he had been shot,' said Henkel grimly. 'That would
indeed have been his fate but for my interference. I used my influence to
get his sentence altered to a term of imprisonment.'

Ken changed colour. He found it desperately difficult to keep a cool head.
The news that his father was alive had