In the cell tortured and dizzy after a sleepless night facing the fact that a throw of the dice may place him before a firing squad within hours Rudolph Frohl gazes in horror at the man who stands over his bunk, clad as a priest but whose face is the face of the friend . he just murdered. Or is it, for to his fevered gaze the face seems to swirl and shift  and take on many forms until Ruddy is sure of nothing...