I was completely unnerved and now commenced to fear the worst. If the ordeal I experienced on the Wednesday night was not the trial, then what on earth was it? I made up my mind to find out. I rang the bell wildly and demanded to see the Commandant. He sent down word to say he could not see me. But I was insistent, and at last, to avoid further worry, he conceded an audience.
As I entered the office of the Commandant I was surprised to see him handling my little camera. At my entrance he slipped it into his desk. He looked at me curiously, and then grunted,
"What do you want?"
"I wish to know when my trial is coming off. I thought I was tried last Wednesday night."
"No! That was the enquiry. We'll let you know the result of the trial pretty quickly," and he grinned complacently, in which little pleasantry at my expense the officer of the guard joined in.
"I don't want to know the result! I want to be there!"
"That is impossible. You gave all your evidence before the enquiry!"
"Then don't I appear at my trial?"
"Certainly not!"
I was completely non-plussed at this confirmation of the head-gaoler's statement. It was a new way, to my mind, of meting out justice to a prisoner to deny him the right to appear at his own trial. Truly the ways of Teuton jurisprudence or military court procedure were strange.