of sufficient calibre to bring him into our Avenue. He was well built,
of attractive personality, and was well dressed in a blue suit complete
with clean collar, tie and other details.

Who was he? What was he doing with us? Was he a spy? My curiosity was
thoroughly aroused. I became interested in him, and strange to say the
sentiment was mutual because he could not take his eyes from me. I
keenly wanted to speak to him but this was frankly out of the question.
Yet we seemed to be drawing together.

I did not attempt to speak but contrived by sundry movements and
shuffling on one pretext or another to get closer to him. Then I
resorted to subterfuge. Standing with my hands in front of me I began to
twiddle my fingers rapidly. The action appeared to be natural and did
not arouse the slightest suspicion. Within the limitations available I
was forming some of the letters of the deaf and dumb alphabet with which
I am fully acquainted and dexterous. Did he understand the language? I
watched him closely. Presently I saw his fingers begin to move with
apparent equal aimlessness. I watched intently. He was answering me and
to my joy I discovered that he understood English.

Our fingers were now working briskly and we carried on a brief
monosyllabic conversation while the other prisoners were completing
their work. From him I learned that I was certainly in great danger. But
he urged me to cheer up. Then he asked me the number of my cell, which I
gave. He replied that he was directly opposite me, and he told me to
look out for him whenever I got a chance, which, needless to say, under
the stringency of my life, was not likely to be often. He had such a
frank open face that I felt as if I could trust him, although I had come
to regard every German, no matter how apparently innocent his