tighten about his neck. For, as a matter of fact,
there are more spies than ever, better spies, spies
with a lack of fear nearly superhuman.
There is, of course, a good deal that can't be publicly told, but it isn't all tragedy, as you'll learn from the curious case of the near-sighted London clerk. Nor do these men perpetually work in the shadow of death. You may not know that an Entente intelligence officer assigned to New York informed London of the approaching Irish excursion of Sir Roger Casement, but you must have guessed the presence of the spies of both sides in America; you may have suspected that, often in a legitimate way, they are not uninterested in you. Have you ever smiled at a German waiter's bored expression during an after dinner discussion of the war? Since hostilities commenced have you tried to visit England or France? In the latter case you may be sure that both sides know enough about you and your sympathies to exalt your own importance and to justify your admiration of the system.
After docking on the other side, for instance, as I told you in an early chapter, the passengers are virtually imprisoned in the dining-room until the chief alien officer has had his fling. He appears to possess a dossier of each person. In my own case he asked me to fill in a blank, largely
