Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-02-11
Continued from page 9

not necessary IN this place to catalogue or
detail its revolving sanitary condition. its
appalling lack of space, nor the deliberately
cruel regulations by which it is governed.
If those who care can picture thirty men,
or even more, spending the night shut up in
a cell of about five wards square, with one
pail and one water jug between them, no
light, and only tiny hole in the wall tor
ventilation, they will get a faint idea of the
place. No more than an idea, however, for
there are lacking the most elementary pro-
visions and safeguards for ordinary human
existence, with results impossible to describe,
but which justify the description of the
general cells of the prison as "pits of pesti-
1ence." The single cells are better in that
they contain but one occupant, and he has
a space at his disposal of about nine feet
by three, in which he must exist, sleeping
and waking, space but little larger than a
stone coffin.
1t was to such single cell that Belmont
was bounded, to await his brief appearance
before the Colonel of the regiment. After
that he would be sent to Oran for an almost
equally brief appearance before the court
martial and thence to the inhuman tasks
of the penal battaiions in the far south,
where men are w.~ked as no slaves in the
world were ever worked, and without a
tenth of the slaves reward or food.
He sat on the tiny, dirt incrusted wooden
bench waiting, dazed and dumb, for the day
light.
Outside, the steps of the sentry beat
steadily in time to the intolerable throbblng
in his brain that the journey behind the fast
horses of the Arab gendarmes had started,
which seemed now as though it would never
cease. Now and then the sound of subdued
curses and of groans from the packed gen.
oro1 ca1lc WOULD rapat 61111v throne oh the
ventilating hole over the door.
HOW long this had continued-each sec
u ond dragging out into an age of horror
Belmont was in no condition to judge; but
after thousand years in hell, as it seemed,
he heard sound that conveyed meaning to
him. 1t was the heavy thud of rifle butt
on the floor of the corridor outside. Bel
mont knew it's import. It was signal from
the sentry outside the nearest general cell
who doubtless had experienced its horrors
himself that Sergeant was approaching.
Instantly the sounds of torment, the cries
and curses, died out in uncanny silence. No
man dared face the extra punishment that
would follow if he was discovered breaking
the prison rule of absolute silence at night.
The approach of the sentry meant moth
ing to Belmont: he knew that the worst
that could befall him would be accomplished,
and he had nothing to fear now. In any case
it was not likely that the Sergeant would
enter any of the dreadful cells. Belmont,
resting his head on his hands, ignored the
sounds of the colloquy between the Sergeant
and the sentry outside.
But it seemed that the usual order was
changed that night; for presently the door
of the Englishman's cell opened softly and
the Sergeant, carrying bundle and lamp,
entered noiselessly.
Belmont looked up duly. The Sergeant,
brutal faced Austrian, whispered softly.
"Be silent, your and passed a flask.
"Drink this!" Belmont drank. 1t was
brandy and it ran through the veins of the
prisoner like fire. Accustomed as he was
only to the sweet, heavy wine of the cantecn
or the hot, tasteless coffee of the cheap cafes,
the stimulant came as an elixir of life to the
WORKOUT man. He drained the flask to the
last dregs. Slowly the throbbing behind his
forehead slackened its remorseless beat, dy
ing down, and Belmont stood up.
The Sergeant grinned, without feeling.
He had not come here to this poor devil out
of pity: he had come for sake of the bribe
he had already received and the further
bribe he would receive tomorrow. The
Shoulder had lost no time in carrying out his
promise to Perdita of the Cafe du Legion.
"Strin!" said the Sergeant c,lrtlV opening