Our last hope was to go mad, and try for exchange. We came to the decision reluctantly, after a discussion that went on far into the night. Then a thing happened that went far to restore my ebbing human nature. Hill got up from his chair, and after pacing the room a little while, he stopped, facing me.

“I will stand down, old chap,” he said. “If two of us go mad together it will lessen the chances of each not by half, but a hundredfold, and one man, on his own, has a poor enough chance against the Constantinople specialists. So I will stand down, and good luck to you!”

“We have agreed that the mad stunt is now our best—our only chance,” I objected.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But think of it—two fellows from the same camp going mad at the same time. It is hopeless. I’d love to join you, but I’m not going to spoil your chance. Your only hope is to go alone.”

I like to think of the half hour that followed, and of the depths it revealed in Hill’s friendship for me. We were at the gloomiest period of the war—April 1918. The German successes lost nothing in the recounting in Turkish newspapers. To every appearance our imprisonment might last for years. Yet Hill tried hard to sacrifice his last faint hope of liberty for my sake. In the end I reminded him that we had pledged ourselves to stick together, and threatened that if he returned to camp I would fulfil my part of the contract by going back with him.

“Well, Bones,” he said. “I’ll come. I don’t know what special kind of miseries the Turks keep for malingering lunatics, but I promise you that without your permission they’ll never find out through me.”

I made him the same promise. Three months later I was to regret it most bitterly, for Hill then lay at death’s door in Gumush Suyu hospital, and forbade me to say the few words of confession that would have got him the humane treatment he required.

Our Spook had a delicate task regaining its full authority over Kiazim. It began by developing the Commandant’s own plan—a process to which he could hardly object—and laying stress on its desire to keep Kiazim in the background. It reminded us that in order to avoid OOO’s interference it was better for us not to know what method would be ultimately adopted. But there was no harm in preparing for a trip to Constantinople to read the thoughts of AAA. And if we failed, which was unlikely, we could try some other method when we returned to Yozgad. Meantime, Kiazim need do nothing but tell the truth, in which there was never any harm. It did not reprove Kiazim for lack of faith, or pretend to know anything about his temporary secession, but went on quietly as if nothing had occurred.

The Commandant was perfectly ready to tell the truth, but wanted to know to whom he was to tell it, and what he was to say! The Spook told him. He was to call in the Turkish doctors and make them the following statement, which he should learn by heart:

“I am anxious about two of my prisoners, and I want your professional advice that I may act on it. I have reason to believe they are mentally affected, and that the English doctor is endeavouring to conceal the fact.^[41] A certain number of the prisoners, amongst whom Jones and Hill were prominent, have been studying occultism ever since they arrived. They admittedly practise telepathy, and were arrested for communication with people outside on military matters. For direct evidence as to their conduct during their confinement I refer you to my Interpreter (MoÏse) and my orderly (the Cook) who have seen a good deal of them. If they have become mentally unhinged I fear they may do something desperate, and would like you to send them to Constantinople where they can be properly looked after, or do whatever you think is best for them.”

The Commandant would then produce the Cook. His story to the doctors was to be as follows:

“By the Commandant’s orders I attended Hill and Jones in their imprisonment, as they were not allowed to communicate with other prisoners. I took them their food (from Posh Castle). At first I noticed nothing peculiar. After a few days, in brushing out their room, I began to find bits of meat hidden away in the corners. I used to give these to my chickens. I do not know why the meat was thus thrown away because the prisoners cannot talk Turkish. I also found charred remains of bread and other food in the stove. A few days ago the prisoners forbade me to sweep out their room. I do not know why. They usually look depressed and silent. That is all I know.”

Then the Pimple:

“I know both Jones and Hill well. When they first arrived they were both smart and soldierlike. They have gradually become more and more untidy and slovenly. For over a year they have been studying occultism, and I know they achieved some extraordinary results, e.g., they got the first news that came to Yozgad of the taking of Baghdad. There were many other things. At one time spirit-communiquÉs were published in the camp. All the other prisoners knew of it and many believed in it. The first peculiarity I noticed was that occasionally one or the other of them would write an extraordinary letter, abusing certain officers and the camp in general. I thought at the time these letters were due to drink, and tore them up. This was many months ago. I remonstrated with them for using such language about their fellow-officers.^[42] I do not know when they began what they call ‘telepathy,’ but I used to come upon them studying together. I was present at their public exhibition (description follows). Nobody has ever given me a satisfactory explanation of their powers.

“When Hill and Jones were imprisoned on March 7th it was my duty to visit them every day and try to elicit the name of their correspondent, which the Commandant wanted. Sometimes they were rude to me, sometimes polite, sometimes sullen. At first they got food sent in from Major Baylay’s mess (Posh Castle). I now remember that soon after they were locked up they began to ask me if Major Baylay was abusing them. About 20th March or a little before they began to beg to be allowed to cook their own food, or for the Turks to cook it. When I asked why, they first said they did not want to cause trouble in the camp. I saw Major Baylay and Price, of the Posh Castle mess, who said it was no trouble, and they would continue sending food. When I told this to Hill and Jones they got excited, insisted that they must not give trouble, and finally told me in confidence that Major Baylay was putting poison in the meat, and that they were afraid he would poison the other food too. I thought they were joking about the poison, and that the real reason was they did not wish to give trouble, but I arranged for them to cook their own food. I now understand that they did not intend it as a joke—their belief explains why they hid the meat which the Cook found.

“On the 1st of April the order came from Constantinople to release them. When I told them of this they were very frightened. They asked me to keep the door locked, and said this order did not really come from Constantinople, but was an arrangement between Major Baylay and the postmaster who had been paid ten liras to forge a telegram. They said the real object of the telegram was to stop them writing to the British War Office about Baylay (it forbade them write any letters), and to get them outside so that they could be murdered. This alarmed me, as they were obviously serious. I fetched in the English camp doctor, but did not tell him my suspicions about their sanity. I was present during the doctor’s examination, and noticed the two prisoners were reticent and said nothing about Baylay. The doctor seemed puzzled. He paid several visits and was vague when I questioned him. He mentioned neurasthenia, but when I asked if that meant nervous trouble he shut up and did not answer. He was obviously alarmed about them. To please them and give the doctor a chance, the door was kept locked for several days, in spite of the War Office order to liberate them. Then I had to inform the camp that they were free, Hill and Jones were terrified and begged me not to allow any English officers to visit them.

“When visitors came Hill and Jones got very excited. They were rude to many of their friends. They complained to me that these officers had been sent by Major Baylay and Colonel Maule to murder them. They complained that one officer—Captain Colbeck—had asked them to come out, with the object of killing them, and when they refused to go had threatened to take them by force.^[43] I found out that the truth was their visitor was alarmed by their altered appearance, and thought it would do them good to have tea in Baylay’s garden. Hill and Jones thought they were being enticed out to be killed. They also complained to me that Baylay had visited them,^[44] and had scattered poison about the room, and had poisoned some bread, which they had to burn in consequence. When asked why they would not allow the Cook to sweep the room they said if he did so it would liberate the poison which Baylay had put in the dust. They next began to distrust the English doctor and to think he was an emissary of Baylay’s. They pretended to take his medicine, but confided to me that they dared not do so, and showed me a bottle of Dover Powder which the doctor had given them, pointing out that it was labelled ‘POISON.’” (O’Farrell had provided us with medicines for his “neurasthenia” diagnosis, but had instructed us not to take them.)

“When Constantinople, in their telegram of April 1st, prohibited Hill and Jones from writing to England, they began to write extraordinary letters to high Turkish officials and also to the Sultan. This alarmed me. I could get no satisfaction from the English doctor. I therefore asked you gentlemen to tell me the early symptoms of madness”—(This was true enough. MoÏse had done so, acting under instructions from the Spook)—“and learned enough to make me fairly certain that the English doctor was concealing the truth. With the Commandant’s consent I then questioned the English doctor.” (This interview was also ordered by the Spook, O’Farrell having been previously warned by us.) “He was again vague, said the two men could be treated and looked after here, and appeared to be afraid of a Turkish asylum. I reported what O’Farrell had said to the Commandant, and he decided he must have proper medical advice, as they are gradually getting more violent.”

MoÏse was then to produce the letters we had written to the “high Turkish officials.” The Spook told us these letters were written by himself. We pretended, at the time of writing them, that we were “under control” and quite unconscious of what we were writing. MoÏse and the Commandant, of course, quite believed this.

I give below two specimens of the many letters we wrote. In my letters the handwriting was very scrawly and hurried, there were frequent repetitions, and occasionally words were left out. The first is to the Sultan, the second to Enver Pasha. Hill was supposed to be forced to write by me.

Such was the case that was laid before the two official Turkish doctors in Yozgad, Major Osman and Captain Suhbi Fahri, by the principal officials of the prisoners’ camp on the morning of April 13th, 1918. We knew nothing of the medical attainments of Major Osman or Captain Suhbi Fahri, but we calculated that if the officers in charge of a camp of German prisoners in England made similar statements about two prisoners to the local English doctors, and told them (as the Turks were told) that the German doctor in the camp was trying to conceal the true state of affairs with a view to keeping the two men from the horrors of an English asylum, it ought to create an atmosphere most favourable to malingerers. In Yozgad we had the additional advantage that the Turkish doctors were very jealous of O’Farrell, whose medical skill had created a great impression amongst the local officials, and were only too delighted at a chance of proving him wrong. But the outstanding merit of the scheme was that it avoided implicating O’Farrell. We would face the Constantinople specialists purely on the recommendation of the Turks, and O’Farrell’s disagreement with the local doctors would make him perfectly safe if we were found out. Also O’Farrell’s whole attitude towards us, his fellow-prisoners, would help us to deceive the specialists, because it would be a strong argument against the theory that we were malingering, for it would be natural to suppose that the English doctor would seek to help rather than hinder us to leave Yozgad. The Turks are not sufficiently conversant with Poker to recognize a bluff of the second degree.

The Spook had promised the Commandant to place us under control and make us seem mad when the doctors visited us. It succeeded to perfection, for we had left no stone unturned to deceive the Turks.

We were unshaven, unwashed, and looked utterly disreputable. For over three weeks we had been living on a very short ration of dry bread and tea. For the last three days we had eaten next to nothing, and by the 13th April we were literally starving. We sat up all night on the 12th, that our eyes might be dull when the doctors came, and we took heavy doses of phenacetin at frequent intervals, to slow down our pulses. All night we kept the windows and doors shut, and the stove red-hot and roaring, and smoked hard, so that by morning the atmosphere was indescribable. We scattered filth about the room, which had already remained a week unswept, and strewed it with slop-pails, empty tins, torn paper, and clothing. Near the door we upset a bucket of dirty water; in the centre of the floor was a heap of soiled linen, and close beside it what looked like the remains of a morning meal. Over all we sprinkled a precious bottle of Elliman’s Embrocation, adding a new odour to the awful atmosphere. An hour before the doctors were due, Hill began smoking strong plug tobacco, which always makes him sick. The Turks, being Turks, were ninety minutes late. Hill kept puffing valiantly at his pipe, and by the time they arrived he had the horrible, greeny-yellow hue that is known to those who go down to the sea in ships.

It was a lovely spring morning outside. The snow had gone. The countryside, fresh from the rains, was bathed in sunlight, and a fine fresh breeze was blowing. We heard MoÏse and the doctors coming up our stairs, laughing and chatting together. Captain Suhbi Fahri, still talking, opened the door of our room—and stopped in the middle of a sentence. It takes a pretty vile atmosphere to astonish a Turk, but the specimen of “fug” we had so laboriously prepared took his breath away. The two doctors stood at the door and talked in whispers to MoÏse.

Hill, with a British warm up to his ears and a balaclava on his tousled head, sat huddled motionless over the red-hot stove, warming his hands. On the other side of the stove I wrote furiously, dashing off sheet after sheet of manuscript and hurling them on to the floor.

Their examination of us was a farce. If their minds were not already made up before they entered, the state of our room and our appearance completely satisfied them. Major Osman never left the door. Captain Suhbi Fahri tiptoed silently round the room, peering into our scientist-trapping slop-pails and cag-heaps, until he got behind my chair, when I whirled round on him in a frightened fury, and he retreated suddenly to the door again. Neither of them sought to investigate our reflexes—the test we feared most of all—but they contented themselves with a few questions which were put through MoÏse in whispers, and translated to us by him.

They began with me.

I grew more and more excited, and burst into a torrent of talk about my good friend Baylay’s “enmity,” waving my arms and raving furiously. The two doctors looked on aghast, and I noticed Captain Suhbi Fahri changed his grip on his silver-headed cane to the thin end. It took them quite a time to quieten me down again. At last I gathered up my scattered manuscript and resumed my writing. Hill had never moved or paid the slightest attention to the pandemonium. They turned to him.

Major Osman. “Why are you keeping the room so hot? It is a warm day.”

(MoÏse had to call Hill by name and repeat the question several times before Hill appeared to realize that he was being addressed. Then he raised a starving, grey-green, woebegone face to his questioners.)

“Cold,” he said, and huddled an inch nearer the stove.

“Why don’t you go out?” asked Major Osman.

“Baylay,” said Hill, without lifting his head.

“Why don’t you sweep the floor?”

“Poison in dust.”

“Why is there poison in the dust?”

“Baylay,” said the monotonous voice again.

“Is there anything you want?” Major Osman asked.

Hill lifted his head once more.

“Please tell the Commandant to lock the door and you go away,” then he turned his back on his questioners.

The two doctors, followed by MoÏse, tiptoed down the stairs. We heard the outer gate clang, listened carefully to make sure they had gone, and then let loose the laughter we had bottled up so long. For both the Turkish doctors had clearly been scared out of their wits by us.

MoÏse came back later with our certificates of lunacy. They were imposing documents, written in a beautiful hand, and each decorated with two enormous seals. The following is a translation as it was written out by the Pimple at our request:—

Both reports were signed and sealed by

“Major Osman, Bacteriologist in charge of Infectious Diseases at Yozgad.”

“Captain Suhbi Fahri, District Doctor in charge of Infectious Diseases at Yozgad.”

“Your control,” said MoÏse to us, “was wonderful—marvellous. Your very expressions had altered. The doctors said your looks were ‘very bad, treacherous, haine.’ You, Jones, have a fixed delusion—(idÉe fixÉe)—and Hill has melancholia, they say. They have ordered that a sentry be posted to prevent your committing suicide and that you and your room be thoroughly cleaned, by force if necessary. Do you remember the doctors’ visit?”

Our memories, we said, were utterly blank, and we got the Pimple to relate what had occurred.

“It was truly a glorious exhibition of the power of our Spook,” the Pimple ended, “and the Commandant is greatly pleased. I trust you suffer no ill-effects?”

We were only very tired, and very anxious that the doctors’ suggestions as to cleaning up should be carried out. Sentries were called in. Our bedding and possessions were moved to a clean room, and we were led out into the yard and made to bathe in the horse-trough. Then we slept the sleep of the successful conspirator till evening.