Us Spies or We Spies—for we call ourselves both—are thus a race apart. None know us. All fear us. Where do we live? Nowhere. Where are we? Everywhere. Frequently we don’t know ourselves where we are. The secret orders that we receive come from so high up that it is often forbidden to us even to ask where we are. A friend of mine, or at least a Fellow Spy—us Spies have no friends—one of the most brilliant men in the Hungarian Secret Service, once spent a month in New York under the impression that he was in Winnipeg. If this happened to the most brilliant, think of the others.
All, I say, fear us. Because they know and have reason to know our power. Hence, in spite of the prejudice against us, we are able to move everywhere, to lodge4 in the best hotels, and enter any society that we wish to penetrate5.
Let me relate an incident to illustrate6 this: a month ago I entered one of the largest of the New York hotels which I will merely call the B. hotel without naming it: to do so might blast it. We Spies, in fact, never name a hotel. At the most we indicate it by a number known only to ourselves, such as 1, 2, or 3.
On my presenting myself at the desk the clerk informed me that he had no room vacant. I knew this of course to be a mere7 subterfuge8; whether or not he suspected that I was a Spy I cannot say. I was muffled9 up, to avoid recognition, in a long overcoat with the collar turned up and reaching well above my ears, while the black beard and the moustache, that I had slipped on in entering the hotel, concealed10 my face. “Let me speak a moment to the manager,” I said. When he came I beckoned11 him aside and taking his ear in my hand I breathed two words into it. “Good heavens!” he gasped12, while his face turned as pale as ashes. “Is it enough?” I asked. “Can I have a room, or must I breathe again?” “No, no,” said the manager, still trembling. Then, turning to the clerk: “Give this gentleman a room,” he said, “and give him a bath.”
What these two words are that will get a room in New York at once I must not divulge13. Even now, when the veil of secrecy14 is being lifted, the international interests involved are too complicated to permit it. Suffice it to say that if these two had failed I know a couple of others still better.
I narrate15 this incident, otherwise trivial, as indicating the astounding16 ramifications17 and the ubiquity of the international spy system. A similar illustration occurs to me as I write. I was walking the other day with another man, on upper B. way between the T. Building and the W. Garden.
“Do you see that man over there?” I said, pointing from the side of the street on which we were walking on the sidewalk to the other side opposite to the side that we were on.
“The man with the straw hat?” he asked. “Yes, what of him?”
“Oh, nothing,” I answered, “except that he’s a Spy!”
“Great heavens!” exclaimed my acquaintance, leaning up against a lamp-post for support. “A Spy! How do you know that? What does it mean?”
I gave a quiet laugh—we Spies learn to laugh very quietly.
“Ha!” I said, “that is my secret, my friend. Verbum sapientius! Che sara sara! Yodel doodle doo!”
My acquaintance fell in a dead faint upon the street. I watched them take him away in an ambulance. Will the reader be surprised to learn that among the white-coated attendants who removed him I recognized no less a person than the famous Russian Spy, Poulispantzoff. What he was doing there I could not tell. No doubt his orders came from so high up that he himself did not know.
He was inside the tea-case when I saw him; so at least I was informed by the coolies who carried it. Yet I recognized him instantly. Neither he nor I, however, gave any sign of recognition other than an imperceptible movement of the outer eyelid18. (We Spies learn to move the outer lid of the eye so imperceptibly that it cannot be seen.) Yet after meeting Poulispantzoff in this way I was not surprised to read in the evening papers a few hours afterward19 that the uncle of the young King of Siam had been assassinated21. The connection between these two events I am unfortunately not at liberty to explain; the consequences to the Vatican would be too serious. I doubt if it could remain top-side up.
These, however, are but passing incidents in a life filled with danger and excitement. They would have remained unrecorded and unrevealed, like the rest of my revelations, were it not that certain recent events have to some extent removed the seal of secrecy from my lips. The death of a certain royal sovereign makes it possible for me to divulge things hitherto undivulgeable. Even now I can only tell a part, a small part, of the terrific things that I know. When more sovereigns die I can divulge more. I hope to keep on divulging22 at intervals23 for years. But I am compelled to be cautious. My relations with the Wilhelmstrasse, with Downing Street and the Quai d’Orsay, are so intimate, and my footing with the Yildiz Kiosk and the Waldorf-Astoria and Childs’ Restaurants are so delicate, that a single faux pas might prove to be a false step.
It is now seventeen years since I entered the Secret Service of the G. empire. During this time my activities have taken me into every quarter of the globe, at times even into every eighth or sixteenth of it.
It was I who first brought back word to the Imperial Chancellor24 of the existence of an Entente25 between England and France. “Is there an Entente?” he asked me, trembling with excitement, on my arrival at the Wilhelmstrasse. “Your Excellency,” I said, “there is.” He groaned26. “Can you stop it?” he asked. “Don’t ask me,” I said sadly. “Where must we strike?” demanded the Chancellor. “Fetch me a map,” I said. They did so. I placed my finger on the map. “Quick, quick,” said the Chancellor, “look where his finger is.” They lifted it up. “Morocco!” they cried. I had meant it for Abyssinia but it was too late to change. That night the warship27 Panther sailed under sealed orders. The rest is history, or at least history and geography.
In the same way it was I who brought word to the Wilhelmstrasse of the rapprochement between England and Russia in Persia. “What did you find?” asked the Chancellor as I laid aside the Russian disguise in which I had travelled. “A Rapprochement!” I said. He groaned. “They seem to get all the best words,” he said.
I shall always feel, to my regret; that I am personally responsible for the outbreak of the present war. It may have had ulterior causes. But there is no doubt that it was precipitated28 by the fact that, for the first time in seventeen years, I took a six weeks’ vacation in June and July of 1914. The consequences of this careless step I ought to have foreseen. Yet I took such precautions as I could. “Do you think,” I asked, “that you can preserve the status quo for six weeks, merely six weeks, if I stop spying and take a rest?” “We’ll try,” they answered. “Remember,” I said, as I packed my things, “keep the Dardanelles closed; have the Sandjak of Novi Bazaar29 properly patrolled, and let the Dobrudja remain under a modus vivendi till I come back.”
Two months later, while sitting sipping30 my coffee at a Kurhof in the Schwarzwald, I read in the newspapers that a German army had invaded France and was fighting the French, and that the English expeditionary force had crossed the Channel. “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 lull31 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 contented32 myself with passing the morning in a quiet stroll, taking care, however, to keep my ears open. After lunch I generally feigned33 a light sleep, keeping my ears shut. A table d’hote dinner, followed by a visit to the theatre, brought the strenuous34 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 peremptory35 summons from the head of the Imperial Secret Service at Berlin, Baron36 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 despatch37 that for some reason or other Fisch von Gestern was anxious to see me, having, as I instantly inferred, something to say to me. This conjecture38 proved correct.
The Baron rose at my entrance with military correctness and shook hands.
“Are you willing,” he inquired, “to undertake a mission to America?”
“I am,” I answered.
“Very good. How soon can you start?”
“As soon as I have paid the few bills that I owe in Berlin,” I replied.
“We can hardly wait for that,” said my chief, “and in case it might excite comment. You must start to-night!”
“Very good,” I said.
“Such,” said the Baron, “are the Kaiser’s orders. Here is an American passport and a photograph that will answer the purpose. The likeness39 is not great, but it is sufficient.”
“But,” I objected, abashed40 for a moment, “this photograph is of a man with whiskers and I am, unfortunately, clean-shaven.”
“The orders are imperative,” said Gestern, with official hauteur41. “You must start to-night. You can grow whiskers this afternoon.”
“Very good,” I replied.
“And now to the business of your mission,” continued the Baron. “The United States, as you have perhaps heard, is making war against Germany.”
“I have heard so,” I replied.
“Yes,” continued Gestern. “The fact has leaked out—how, we do not know—and is being widely reported. His Imperial Majesty42 has decided43 to stop the war with the United States.”
I bowed.
“He intends to send over a secret treaty of the same nature as the one recently made with his recent Highness the recent Czar of Russia. There are other provisions, but I need not trouble you with them. Your mission relates, not to the actual treaty, but to the preparation of the ground.”
I bowed again.
“You are aware, I presume,” continued the Baron, “that in all high international dealings, at least in Europe, the ground has to be prepared. A hundred threads must be unravelled44. This the Imperial Government itself cannot stoop to do. The work must be done by agents like yourself. You understand all this already, no doubt?”
“These, then, are your instructions,” said the Baron, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if to impress his words upon my memory. “On your arrival in the United States you will follow the accredited46 methods that are known to be used by all the best Spies of the highest diplomacy47. You have no doubt read some of the books, almost manuals of instruction, that they have written?”
“I have read many of them,” I said.
“Very well. You will enter, that is to say, enter and move everywhere in the best society. Mark specially48, please, that you must not only enter it but you must move. You must, if I may put it so, get a move on.”
I bowed.
“You must mix freely with the members of the Cabinet. You must dine with them. This is a most necessary matter and one to be kept well in mind. Dine with them often in such a way as to make yourself familiar to them. Will you do this?”
“I will,” I said.
“Very good. Remember also that in order to mask your purpose you must constantly be seen with the most fashionable and most beautiful women of the American capital. Can you do this?”
“Can I?” I said.
“You must if need be”—and the Baron gave a most significant look which was not lost upon me—“carry on an intrigue49 with one or, better, with several of them. Are you ready for it?”
“More than ready,” I said.
“Very good. But this is only a part. You are expected also to familiarize yourself with the leaders of the great financial interests. You are to put yourself on such a footing with them as to borrow large sums of money from them. Do you object to this?”
“Good! You will also mingle51 freely in Ambassadorial and foreign circles. It would be well for you to dine, at least once a week, with the British Ambassador. And now one final word”—here Gestern spoke52 with singular impressiveness—“as to the President of the United States.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You must mix with him on a footing of the most open-handed friendliness53. Be at the White House continually. Make yourself in the fullest sense of the words the friend and adviser54 of the President. All this I think is clear. In fact, it is only what is done, as you know, by all the masters of international diplomacy.”
“Precisely,” I said.
“Very good. And then,” continued the Baron, “as soon as you find yourself sufficiently55 en rapport56 with everybody, or I should say,” he added in correction, for the Baron shares fully57 in the present German horror of imported French words, “when you find yourself sufficiently in enggeknupfterverwandtschaft with everybody, you may then proceed to advance your peace terms. And now, my dear fellow,” said the Baron, with a touch of genuine cordiality, “one word more. Are you in need of money?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I thought so. But you will find that you need it less and less as you go on. Meantime, good-bye, and best wishes for your mission.”
Such was, such is, in fact, the mission with which I am accredited. I regard it as by far the most important mission with which I have been accredited by the Wilhelmstrasse. Yet I am compelled to admit that up to the present it has proved unsuccessful. My attempts to carry it out have been baffled. There is something perhaps in the atmosphere of this republic which obstructs58 the working of high diplomacy. For over five months now I have been waiting and willing to dine with the American Cabinet. They have not invited me. For four weeks I sat each night waiting in the J. hotel in Washington with my suit on ready to be asked. They did not come near me.
Nor have I yet received an invitation from the British Embassy inviting59 me to an informal lunch or to midnight supper with the Ambassador. Everybody who knows anything of the inside working of the international spy system will realize that without these invitations one can do nothing. Nor has the President of the United States given any sign. I have sent ward20 to him, in cipher60, that I am ready to dine with him on any day that may be convenient to both of us. He has made no move in the matter.
Under these circumstances an intrigue with any of the leaders of fashionable society has proved impossible. My attempts to approach them have been misunderstood—in fact, have led to my being invited to leave the J. hotel. The fact that I was compelled to leave it, owing to reasons that I cannot reveal, without paying my account, has occasioned unnecessary and dangerous comment. I connect it, in fact, with the singular attitude adopted by the B. hotel on my arrival in New York, to which I have already referred.
I have therefore been compelled to fall back on revelations and disclosures. Here again I find the American atmosphere singularly uncongenial. I have offered to reveal to the Secretary of State the entire family history of Ferdinand of Bulgaria for fifty dollars. He says it is not worth it. I have offered to the British Embassy the inside story of the Abdication61 of Constantine for five dollars. They say they know it, and knew it before it happened. I have offered, for little more than a nominal62 sum, to blacken the character of every reigning63 family in Germany. I am told that it is not necessary.
Meantime, as it is impossible to return to Central Europe, I expect to open either a fruit store or a peanut stand very shortly in this great metropolis64. I imagine that many of my former colleagues will soon be doing the same!
点击收听单词发音
1 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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2 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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3 shuddered | |
v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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4 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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5 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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6 illustrate | |
v.举例说明,阐明;图解,加插图 | |
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7 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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8 subterfuge | |
n.诡计;藉口 | |
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9 muffled | |
adj.(声音)被隔的;听不太清的;(衣服)裹严的;蒙住的v.压抑,捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 );用厚厚的衣帽包着(自己) | |
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10 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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11 beckoned | |
v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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13 divulge | |
v.泄漏(秘密等);宣布,公布 | |
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14 secrecy | |
n.秘密,保密,隐蔽 | |
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15 narrate | |
v.讲,叙述 | |
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16 astounding | |
adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊,使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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17 ramifications | |
n.结果,后果( ramification的名词复数 ) | |
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18 eyelid | |
n.眼睑,眼皮 | |
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19 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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20 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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21 assassinated | |
v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 );中伤;诋毁;破坏 | |
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22 divulging | |
v.吐露,泄露( divulge的现在分词 ) | |
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23 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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24 chancellor | |
n.(英)大臣;法官;(德、奥)总理;大学校长 | |
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25 entente | |
n.协定;有协定关系的各国 | |
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26 groaned | |
v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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27 warship | |
n.军舰,战舰 | |
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28 precipitated | |
v.(突如其来地)使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 );促成;猛然摔下;使沉淀 | |
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29 bazaar | |
n.集市,商店集中区 | |
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30 sipping | |
v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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31 lull | |
v.使安静,使入睡,缓和,哄骗;n.暂停,间歇 | |
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32 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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33 feigned | |
a.假装的,不真诚的 | |
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34 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
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35 peremptory | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
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36 baron | |
n.男爵;(商业界等)巨头,大王 | |
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37 despatch | |
n./v.(dispatch)派遣;发送;n.急件;新闻报道 | |
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38 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
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39 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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40 abashed | |
adj.窘迫的,尴尬的v.使羞愧,使局促,使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 hauteur | |
n.傲慢 | |
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42 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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43 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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44 unravelled | |
解开,拆散,散开( unravel的过去式和过去分词 ); 阐明; 澄清; 弄清楚 | |
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45 assent | |
v.批准,认可;n.批准,认可 | |
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46 accredited | |
adj.可接受的;可信任的;公认的;质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 );委托;委任;把…归结于 | |
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47 diplomacy | |
n.外交;外交手腕,交际手腕 | |
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48 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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49 intrigue | |
vt.激起兴趣,迷住;vi.耍阴谋;n.阴谋,密谋 | |
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50 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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51 mingle | |
vt.使混合,使相混;vi.混合起来;相交往 | |
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52 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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53 friendliness | |
n.友谊,亲切,亲密 | |
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54 adviser | |
n.劝告者,顾问 | |
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55 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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56 rapport | |
n.和睦,意见一致 | |
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57 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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58 obstructs | |
阻塞( obstruct的第三人称单数 ); 堵塞; 阻碍; 阻止 | |
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59 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
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60 cipher | |
n.零;无影响力的人;密码 | |
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61 abdication | |
n.辞职;退位 | |
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62 nominal | |
adj.名义上的;(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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63 reigning | |
adj.统治的,起支配作用的 | |
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64 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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