Alone of the Pitt Escape League he literally did not progress a yard; not one foot did he advance. In broad daylight he was arrested where he stood, or rather, where he sat, for it was in that position that he was discovered.

The plan was not elaborate. Once a week a cart from the laundry came to collect dirty linen from the camp and take it away to be cleaned. And to keep a check on the returns, a British orderly always went with it. Colonel Wright’s scheme was to impersonate the orderly, to get himself conducted safely outside the gates, and once there to rely on his own speed and ingenuity to effect an escape. It might have come off; there was an outside chance, remote certainly, but still a chance; however, he was given no opportunity of gauging his share of the two requisite abilities. It is true he got into the cart and sat quietly in a far corner; but before even the harness had begun to jingle, he had been recognised and arrested. A grey business, but he was in no wise daunted. And within a few weeks he had his hand to the wheel again.

His second scheme was considerably more elaborate, but was none the less sufficiently obvious. Zero hour was fixed for half-past five, and at five o’clock in a far corner of the square preparations were begun for a boxing match. Towels and chairs were set out, sponges and bowls of water appeared, and two brawny Scotsmen shivered in greatcoats. There had been no previous notice of this engagement, but interest was speedily kindled, and within a quarter of an hour quite a large crowd had assembled. The close of the opening round was the signal for a marked display of enthusiasm. And it was in the middle of the second round that Colonel Wright made his dash. No one noticed him. The sentries were absorbed in the boxing, and those whose attentions showed signs of wandering were engaged in conversation by two field officers who could speak German. And Colonel Wright, clad in a suit of civilian clothes, cut through the wire netting of the first entanglement, and dashed across the open. In a few seconds he had swarmed over the second series and was out of sight. It was a most daring and brilliant piece of work. All that remained for him now was to lie till nightfall in the shadow of the wall. Then when it was dark he could choose an auspicious moment and lower himself to the ground.

It was a plan that certainly deserved success, and as the hours passed we began to hope that some one had at last got clean away. There was some anxiety lest his absence should be spotted at roll-call, but when nine o’clock came and went, we felt that all was well. And then just before ten o’clock the two whistle blasts rang out. Colonel Wright had been retaken.

And if the story that we heard afterwards is true, chance was outrageously unkind. He had waited till it was quite dark, and had carefully watched for the moment when the beat of the outside sentry carried his warders out of earshot. He had then lowered himself from the wall; and it was here that his luck deserted him. For a couple of lovers had selected that particular part of the battlements as a shelter for their amorous dalliance. And the point at which Colonel Wright would have landed was removed from them by scarcely a dozen yards. He was instantly detected. Yet, with a very little luck, things might still have turned out favourably; for the man, who seemed sufficiently intrigued with his partner, gave him only a cursory glance and returned to the matter in hand; but the woman, with an eye to advertisement, characteristic of her sex, gave expression to her feelings in a series of piercing shrieks. Colonel Wright was instantly arrested.

The sentries found on him a hundred marks of German money, and a railway ticket to Frankfurt. And if he could only have got clear of the camp, I believe he would have had little difficulty in getting to the frontier. For he spoke German excellently and had friends in that part of the country. He had also the nerve and ingenuity which alone could have rendered such a feat possible. This the authorities must have realised; for a few days later he was moved to another camp. What he did there, we do not know. But rumour has it that on the journey he made three more attempts to break away. And doubtless in a camp with fewer natural defences he would sooner or later have succeeded in outwitting his captors.

But as regards Mainz the gloomy record of its impregnability still stands. At one time or another it has been the temporary home of Russians, French and English; all three have in their turn tried to escape, and all have failed. After four years of warfare Mainz is still the inviolable citadel.

CHAPTER XI
THE ALCOVE

Each week the Pitt League posted up on the walls of the theatre a notice of the times and places of the various classes that were to be held. There were some six rooms at the disposal of this enterprising society. There was the attic at the top of Block I, a noisy room because the dramatic society would probably be found rehearsing next door; then there was the theatre, an impossible room; in the first place because it was too big, and in the second because the scenic artists behind the curtain carried on a continual dialogue to the tune of: “Where is that blue paint?” “Have you put up the wings?” “Where the hell’s the hammer?” which dialogue the scene-shifters accompanied with suitable crashes and landslides. It was a poor room for study—the