"Can you give us a complete and detailed narrative of your journey, say
from the time you left Brighton by the 5.10 p.m. train, on Saturday,
August 1, up to your arrest."

I nodded affirmatively.

"Well, go ahead!"

Forthwith I launched out. I am naturally a rapid speaker and although my
interpreter was confronted with a gigantic task, he performed his work
magnificently. Only once or twice did he falter for a moment or two. But
I was never interrupted nor asked to repeat a statement, so that the
thread of my story remained unbroken. For two hours and a half I spoke
and I think the readiness and clearness with which I proceeded must have
impressed the Court. As I warmed to the subject my head grew clearer and
clearer. I knew I was fighting for my life, but the whole of the
episodes and scenes during the critical fifty odd hours passed through
my mind as if delineated upon a continuous cinematograph ribbon of film.

Midnight had passed before I had finished. The clerks of the Court had
been steadily writing during the whole period, and I knew that every
word I had uttered had been faithfully recorded. The Tribunal gave a
sigh of relief as I intimated that I had nothing more to say. I was
returned to my cell, accompanied by my interpreter, whom I thanked for
his assistance which I could never repay. The Court might decide what it
liked. I had put up a stiff fight and could do no more. I thought I was
to be left alone for the night. I was sorely in need of rest, and the
nervous tension under which I had been labouring now began to reveal
itself. The reaction commenced to set in. But there was no rest for me