neck.

Hatta looked round and nodded, and went on with his bread and butter.

‘Were you happy in prison, dear child?’ said Haigha.

Hatta looked round once more, and this time a tear or two trickled down his cheek: but not a word would he say.

‘Speak, can’t you!’ Haigha cried impatiently. But Hatta only munched away, and drank some more tea.

‘Speak, won’t you!’ cried the King. ‘How are they getting on with the fight?’

Hatta made a desperate effort, and swallowed a large piece of bread-and-butter. ‘They’re getting on very well,’ he said in a choking voice: ‘each of them has been down about eighty-seven times.’