wailed. "It will kill her. She does not know a soul in Wesel. We are
utter strangers. I was summoned back from London only a week or two
ago." He gave vent to another outburst of sobbing.

"Cheer up!" I said soothingly, "you'll see her when you come back!"

"Come back?" he echoed bitterly. "No! I shall never come back. I shall
never see her again! Good-bye! Remember that I always thought kindly of
the English. But I won't forget you before I go!"

His fatalistic resignation somewhat moved me. He was inwardly convinced
that he was going to his death. But I appreciated his sparing a little
of his bare ten minutes to give me a parting visit. I also thank him for
remembering me as he had promised. Shortly after he had gone the gaoler
came to my cell with a sack of fresh straw to serve as a mattress. The
young officer had paid him to extend me this slight privilege. To me it
was like a Heaven-sent blessing, because it enabled me to seek a little
repose without subjecting my bleeding hips to further damage.

During the following day, Wednesday, I was enabled to snatch a peep of
the corridor without, owing to the gaoler paying me a visit in response
to my summons. To my utter astonishment, looking across the corridor, I
saw the mysterious prisoner with whom I had been talking by aid of the
mute alphabet, lounging at the door of his open cell smoking a cigar.
This discovery startled me, and I decided to be more than ever on my
guard. To my mind, which was becoming distracted, everyone appeared to
be spying upon my actions. The mysterious prisoner looked across the
corridor and saw me. Instantly his fingers commenced to move rapidly. I
was talking to the gaoler, but was looking beyond him at the prisoner
opposite, greedily taking in the signs. I almost jumped as I read off