Amongst the prisoners who had sojourned for several months with these prisoners there was general rejoicing at their success. Last July I had the great pleasure of meeting Ellison and Keith in London. In the course of a never-to-be-forgotten evening we spent together, they related the events following their third escape. They told of their flight from Berlin to Bremen, from Bremen to the River Ems, then through the marshes a few miles from the German-Holland frontier, and, finally, their calling, at three o’clock in the morning, upon a Dutch farmer, where they learned that they were well out of Germany. It was a delight to hear these two men describe the rejoicing that was manifested in the home of that farmer, at their good fortune. The farmer’s wife, a worthy Dutch woman about sixty years of age, got up from her bed to welcome these two Englishmen. She prepared a hearty meal, after which the farmer, his wife, and my two friends danced together round the room in a delirium of joy. Mr. Ellison has since joined the English army and Mr. Keith the American army. Another sensational escape was that of a Frenchman named B—. This man, a soldier in the French army, formed part of a platoon which, at the beginning of the war, was surrounded in a small wood in Belgium, in the neighborhood of the French frontier. In order to avoid falling into the hands of the Germans, he and some of his friends took refuge with a Belgian peasant. They discarded their uniforms and donned civilian clothes. B— tried to flee to Holland by the north. He was caught and taken to the concentration camp for the French in Germany. After a few months’ time he again succeeded in getting away. He was dressed in a German uniform and even wore on his breast the ribbon of the Iron Cross. He was caught and thrown into a cell, at the Berlin jail. Here he was kept in solitary confinement, but finally was allowed to walk in the corridors just as we were allowed. Then he conceived the daring project of escaping through the roof, from his cell on the fifth floor of the building. The windows of these cells, on the fifth floor, were underneath the roof which slightly overhangs, but which leaves no hold for the hand. The plan of this Frenchman was to saw through and remove an iron bar, get through the opening and climb on to the roof. This operation, which I was to witness, was duly executed. It necessitated, I must admit, a real acrobatic feat. At eleven o’clock at night–so the prisoner informed me in advance–he would begin his attempt to escape. About that hour I stood on a chair so that my head was on a level with my window. In this way I could observe the Frenchman’s movements. We were on the same floor.