It wanted but a few minutes to eight, and Bertram Borstal, with steady
nerves, waited for the striking of the cuckoo-clock in the prison tower.
Once again a knock sounded upon the cell door, and with the utmost
_sang-froid_ he drew the key from his pocket and unlocked it. The
honorary secretary of Germany entered, preceded by three cripples and a
Mother-Superior.
"I am ready," declared Bertram, calm but pale, "and resigned to my
fate."
"I am happy to say," said the secretary, "that I am unable to accept
your resignation. We recognise the fact that you are only a spy, and
therefore cannot strictly be said to be bearing arms against us. We have
therefore to apologise for having arrested you; but at the same time I
would ask you kindly to bear in mind that at these times we have much to
think about, and mistakes will happen. You are free."
"Free?" repeated Bertram, unable to believe either of his ears.
"Yes, you are free," said the secretary, "and I am empowered to add that
under the circumstances no charge will be made for your breakfast.
_Hochachtungsvoll._"
He withdrew, and Bertram, picking up his umbrella and gloves, quickly
followed him.