"This," I said to myself, "means
war." As usual, I was right.
It is needless for me to recount here the life of busy
activity that falls to a Spy in wartime. It was necessary
for me to be here, there and everywhere, visiting all
the best hotels, watering-places, summer resorts, theatres,
and places of amusement. It was necessary, moreover, to
act with the utmost caution and to assume an air of
careless indolence in order to lull suspicion asleep.
With this end in view I made a practice of never rising
till ten in the morning. I breakfasted with great leisure,
and contented myself with passing the morning in a quiet
stroll, taking care, however, to keep my ears open. After
lunch I generally feigned a light sleep, keeping my ears
shut. A _table d'hote_ dinner, followed by a visit to
the theatre, brought the strenuous day to a close. Few
Spies, I venture to say, worked harder than I did.
It was during the third year of the war that I received
a peremptory summons from the head of the Imperial Secret
Service at Berlin, Baron Fisch von Gestern. "I want to
see you," it read. Nothing more. In the life of a Spy
one learns to think quickly, and to think is to act. I
gathered as soon as I received the despatch that for some
reason or other Fisch von Gestern was anxious to see me,
having, as I instantly inferred, something to say to me.
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