A quarter of an hour later Kenneth found himself alone in a gloomy cell. The prospect was not a pleasing one. Even with a clear conscience as far as the charge of espionage went, the lad realized the terrible position in which he and Rollo were placed. They were British subjects; they were not in uniform; they had no documents to prove the truth of their statement that they were corporals in the Belgian army. There was no one, excepting the thoroughly-terrified Madame Hirondelle, to speak a word in their favour. For half an hour he paced the limited expanse of floor, pondering over the difficulties of the situation. Then, without any thought of attempting an escape, he began examining the walls and floor of his cell. The place was roughly twenty feet in length and nine in breadth. The walls were of brick, set in hard, black cement. They had, at some previous time, been coated with yellow limewash, but most of the colour had been worn off. The floor was paved with irregular stone slabs. Eight feet from the ground was a small unglazed window, with two rusty and slender vertical bars. Opposite the window was the door of worm-eaten oak. The floor was half a dozen steps lower than the level of the ground without. A sentry was posted outside the window. Although standing erect, the only part of him visible from within was from his knees to his belt, so Kenneth knew that on that side the ground was about five or six feet above the floor of his cell. It also appeared likely that the room was not generally used as a place of confinement. It had no furniture. On the stone floor were wisps of straw and hay. It might, but for the steps from the doorway, have been used as a stable. "The Germans don't surely mean to keep me in this rotten hole," thought Kenneth. "It isn't fit for a dog." Slowly the morning passed. At noon the sentry without was relieved. The sergeant's guard made no attempt to look through the window. The new sentry seemed ignorant of the presence of the English lad. There he stood, as rigid as a statue, while the minutes ran into hours. Not once did the grey-coated soldier "walk his beat". No one passed by. The sentry was to all intents and purposes posted in a totally unnecessary position. Just as the clocks chimed the hour of two, the door of the cell was opened and a sergeant and file of Prussian infantrymen entered. Silently the non-commissioned officer pointed to the open door. Preceded and followed by the soldiers, Kenneth set out to be tried for his life. CHAPTER XXII The Sack of Louvain