It is extremely doubtful, in view of what happened afterwards, if the authorities would have permitted the presence of a neutral spectator of the administration of German “justice.” What induced Mr. de Leval to give way was the consideration of Miss Cavell’s interests. Mr. Kirschen urged that the presence of an American at the trial would prejudice the prisoner’s chances. The judges would feel they were under supervision, and would be likely to be more severe in consequence. Mr. Kirschen declared that there was not the least chance of a miscarriage of justice, and promised to inform Mr. de Leval of every development of the case. We may judge of the value of his advocacy from the fact that he afterwards broke all these promises except one. He did tell Mr. de Leval when the trial was coming on. He never made any report of the progress of the trial, although it took two days. He never disclosed what the sentence was. He never informed the only powerful friends of his unhappy client that she was to be executed unless outside intervention came. And when Mr. de Leval tried to find him he had disappeared. CHAPTER IX. TRIAL IN SECRET. The conspirators had thus succeeded in drawing an impenetrable veil across their wicked purposes. Practically the only accounts of the trial are those printed in the German newspapers a fortnight after the execution. These tell us that the court-martial was held in the Court of the Brussels Senate-House. The judges are not named. The principal person accused (says the _Hamburger Fremdenblatt_, which in the true German way assesses titles higher than all personal characteristics) was Prince Reginald de Croy, of Belignies, but he had not been found. The Princess Maria, his wife, stood, however, in the dock with Edith Cavell beside her. Miss Cavell was in the nurse’s uniform in which she had been arrested. The white cap covering the back of the head and disclosing the neat dark waved hair beginning to go grey at the sides, was tied beneath the chin with a starched bow. The stiff collar surmounted the white apron. On the nurse’s arm was the red cross of her merciful calling. Her clear eyes looked out on a group of enemies. Overfed officers, with thick necks and coarse eyes, faced her from the judge’s bench. Soldiers with fixed bayonets stood between the prisoners. Although she knew her danger, Nurse Cavell did not flinch before her accusers. There was nothing defiant in her look. It was too serene for anger. But the judges must have noted the weakness of the woman they were condemning. She was fragile almost to delicacy. Two months of prison had made her complexion ashy white. She looked about the court with curiosity, and even in this supreme hour had time for a compassionate smile for those who were sharing her peril.