Every afternoon the other men in solitary confinement and I spent an hour--from three to four o’clock--walking in single file round the yard. An N.C.O., with a big gun strapped to his waist, kept guard over us, and had been ordered to see that we did not talk together. With an indulgent man on guard it was occasionally possible to get in a word or two, even to carry on a conversation for ten minutes or so. In this way I made the acquaintance of all the other Englishmen who were in the same position as I. As I became more cheerful, I began to relish the books which were sent to me by the other English prisoners, and to look about for means of snatching what enjoyment I could under the circumstances. Two visits to the prison doctor for the treatment of “sleeplessness” gave me opportunities of chatting for half an hour with my friend Ellison, who faked up some complaint on the same days. My punishment diet was to end on the 8th of May. That over, I expected another four months under lock and key, until the 10th of September. On the 7th of May, while tramping round the yard, the sergeant-major, second in command, came in and beckoned me to him. “You’ve finished your ‘solitary’!” he said. “Do you mean to say to-day?” I asked. “Am I to have my cell door open, and may I see the other men?” When the hour of exercise was over, I sped up the stairs, taking four steps at a stride, and searched for Kindman. “I’m out of ‘solitary,’” I bawled. “I’m going to see the other chaps!” “Hey, wait a moment,” he cried. “I must lock your cell door first.” “But I tell you I’m out of ‘solitary’!” “I believe you, though I don’t know officially. I’m not going to lock you in, but lock the door I will. If we leave it open, you’ll find all your things gone when you come back. These Poles would take anything they can lay their hands on, and small blame to them. Most of them haven’t a shirt to their back.” I did not return to my cell until lock-up time, feeling comfortably replete from various teas I had had, and my throat raw from incessant talking. The part of our block reserved for men in solitary confinement, one side of the triangle, was separated from the rest by iron gates on each landing. These gates barred access to the military part as well. They were always kept locked. To clamber over them was easy enough; to be seen doing so spelled seven days’ cells. My first care, consequently, was to get a cell “in front of the gate.” This term was equivalent among us for ordinary confinement as opposed to solitary, for, in ordinary circumstances, nobody would willingly stay in a cell “behind the gate” if not in “solitary,” and was, in fact, not supposed to do so. An unexpected physical phenomenon, which I afterward observed in others, made itself unpleasantly felt in my case. The first days following my release from “behind the gate” I was extremely nervous and restless; at times I longed to be back in “solitary” with the cell door securely locked upon me.