The almost unbearable memory of Madden's long horseface put an end to these wandering thoughts. In the midst of my hatred and terror, I knew that the fast-moving and doubtless happy soldier did not suspect that I possessed the Secret - the name of the exact site of the new British artillery park on the Ancre. If only my mouth, before it should be silenced by a bullet, could shout this name in such a way that it could be heard in Germany... My voice, my human voice, was weak. How could it reach the ear of the Chief? The ear of that sick and hateful man who knew nothing of Runeberg or of me except that we were in Staffordshire. A man who, sitting in his arid Berlin office, leafed infinitely through newspapers, looking in vain for news from us. I said aloud, "I must flee." I sat up on the bed, in senseless and perfect silence, as if Madden was already peering at me.