could relate one of the most fascinating and sensational stories
concerning the treatment meted out to our compatriots by the German
authorities. I also learned that a closely written diary and a mass of
other papers were on their way to me; that they were in safe keeping
just over the frontier, the bearer waiting patiently for the most
favourable moments to smuggle them into safety. This diary and other
documents contained material which he desired me to make public with all
speed in order to bring home to the British public a vivid impression of
what our fellow-countrymen were suffering in the German prison camps.

The papers never reached me. Why, is related in the following pages. In
prosecuting discreet enquiries to discover their whereabouts I learned,
early in October 1915, that "Mahoney will be home before Christmas." My
informant declined to vouchsafe any further particulars beyond the
cryptic remark, "He's got something smart up his sleeve."

Knowing full well that my friend was a man of infinite resource and
initiative I was not surprised to learn a week or two later that
"Ruhleben knew Mahoney no longer." He had got away. His plans had proved
so successful as to exceed the sanguine anticipations which he had
formed.

On December 9, 1915, the day after his return to his wife and children,
who had been keyed up to the highest pitch of excitement by the welcome
news, we met again. His appearance offered convincing testimony as to
the privations he had suffered, but I was completely surprised by the
terrible tale he unfolded.

When the story narrated in the following pages was submitted to the
publishers they received it with incredulity. After making enquiries