extended. The force of this case gave him such a burning sense of
justice as to carry him, this time, safely past the policeman.

Five rows of barbed wire, two of them electrified, would be but a
poor substitute for the barriers of the W.O. Before you set foot
on the staircase you have to produce a ticket, and it is supposed
that the porter, who has the forms to be filled in, forfeits a
day's pay every time he parts with one. Hubert, gradually losing
confidence, wrote upon the form all he could think of about
himself, and handed it to the porter, who received it with
reluctance, read it with suspicion, and disappeared with a grunt.
What he did with it is not known; probably someone got into
communication with the B.E.F. to know if such a person as Hubert
existed, and, if so, why? Meanwhile Hubert had good time to
realise that no one loved him and that this was cold brutal war at
last.

Bit by bit the porter drifted back and gave Hubert his form, now
stamped and become his ticket. The porter having finished with
him, he passed on and, after many wanderings, found the door of
the room where his sentence would be passed. Bracing himself
up and clearing his throat, he prepared to knock and enter.
Fortunately, however, his audacious intention was observed by an
official and frustrated. He was commanded to write something more
about himself in the book provided for that purpose, and to go on
waiting. Being now an expert at writing and waiting he did as he
was bid, spending the next few hours of his life remodelling his
case in less fierce and glowing terms.

At last the door of the room persuaded itself to open and let out