On the fifth week of my imprisonment I was talten to the office of the
Governor of the prison. As I entered I saw a slight, soldierly
looking English gentleman of the cavalry type--(a cavalry officer has
certain mannerisms that invariably give him away to one who knows).
The Governor spoke first:
"Graves, here is a gentleman who wishes to see you."
The stranger nodded to the Governor and said:
"I may be quite a while. You have your instructions."
"That's all right, sir," replied the Governor.
The Governor left and we were alone. The stranger rose.
"My name is Robinson, Doctor. Please take a seat."
Of course, being a prisoner, I had remained standing.
Robinson began some casual conversation.
"How are they treating you?"
"I have no complaints to make."
"Is the confinement irksome to you?"
"Naturally." I looked him straight in the face. "I am a philosopher.
Kismet, Captain."
"Oh--ho" he exclaimed. "You address me as Captain. Wherefor this
knowledge? We have never met."
"No," I replied. "But I have associated too long with various types
of army officers not to be able to detect a British cavalry officer.
Formerly of an Hussar regiment, I take it?"
He laughed for some time. He continued feeling his way in this
manner. Then suddenly he changed front. Point blank he asked me:
"Now, old chap, we know that you worked for Germany against us.
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