The Prize Court, presided over by the Germanophobe, Sir Samuel Evans (who has since died) with the collaboration of the Attorney-General, Sir Frederick Smith, who had previously conducted the case for the Crown in the Casement trial, was only a farce. Sir Frederick Smith had just finished a long speech and sat down with a self-satisfied air, squinting alternately at me and at the tail of his wig, which appeared to be annoying him. Judges, interpreters, pressmen, and spectators strained their necks in order to have a good look at me. Then I had to go into the witness box and was allowed to make a few statements, which led to a lively exchange of words between Sir S. Evans and Sir F. Smith on the one hand, and me on the other, for I protested against the treatment accorded me, and against this, in my opinion, illegal interrogation. In a few minutes I was back in the motor-lorry on my way to the prison, conscious of having effected nothing. My food consisted of a couple of slices of bread morning and evening, watery tea, and some thin, greasy soup, which was supplemented by either rotten herrings or a couple of potatoes. The herrings I threw away. The food was served in a dirty mug without a handle. My bed was a torn straw-mattress covered with old blood-stains. This was the only luxury I had. There was not even a towel. I got fresh air only through the draughty cracks of my ill-fitting window--too much fresh air, in fact, for it was bitterly cold November weather. I noticed by the behaviour of the warders that something strange was happening. It was not till afterwards that I learned I had been the subject of lively debates in the House of Commons and in the Press. It was not altogether on account of the _Libau_ affair. A Member of Parliament had asked how it was possible that a Hun officer should breakfast in a restaurant-car in the company of a British officer, and be served by a British waiter? The question referred to my journey to London to the Prize Court (or rather to the detention barracks), during which the English officer escorting me had offered me some refreshment. During this time of national danger the English Parliament debated the silly question for nearly a week! So I was once more the target of satires and cartoons in all the scurrilous papers, under headings such as, 'The Hun officer in the dining-car,' or 'Casement's pal.' Fortunately, when the situation was getting unbearable, I found a sympathetic soul, an Irish soldier of the guard. Also, by means of Morse signals, which we made on the walls and ceilings, I discovered that a number of German seamen were interned here. Bit by bit I learned that they had been taken from submarines which had recently been destroyed. The poor fellows were very badly treated. My acquaintance with the Irish soldier then became very useful, for I was able to buy food and cigarettes for them, as well as for myself, restoring somewhat our lost strength.