What a commentary it was on "Our Father!" It was a ghastly mockery, a blasphemous farce, a satire on Christianity infinitely more sardonic and mordant than anything I ever wrote or published.

Soon after returning to my cell I was glad of the substantial dinner and drowsy ale to deaden the bitter edge of my scorn.
After tea I settled down to the final preparations for my defence.

My gas was left on for an extra hour to afford me the time I required.

It was half-past nine when I retired to my hammock.

Everything was then finished except the interview I had requested with my co-defendants.
This the Governor was powerless to grant.