“The General’s chauffeur?” he asked, and when I nodded, he promptly negatived the suggestion, explaining, “You see, this is more or less a delicate matter and we will need to be very good actors to avoid arousing any suspicions. The lady in question knows that I am connected with the Intelligence: that’s one reason why she keeps on good terms with me, and the same reason for my not trying to play her myself.... But I believe we can introduce you perfectly, easily, naturally, in fact, because I shall say frankly that you are the brother of the young lady to whom I am engaged.... If I say that, your presence will seem perfectly natural, but to make matters better, I’ll let it be known that you are very close to a prominent general: that will help, I’m sure.... So you run along up and make some excuses to your friend. I’ve a car outside and will wait for you.”
I returned to our room and told Ben that my sister’s beau wanted me to go somewhere with him, so I wouldn’t be able to go out looking for excitement. Ben didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he frankly stated that at last he was going to have an opportunity to pick up a woman without stopping to ask me whether I’d go or not. I wished him luck and left.
During the ride across the city with the Captain—for this woman lived in the Avenue Cartier, across the river—I was further informed as to what I might expect and what I was expected to do. “This Ada Gedouin,” he told me, just as a taxicab missed us by inches, “is a very clever woman.... Nothing ordinary about her at all.... Pretty, vivacious, altogether charming ... about thirty ... originally an American but she married a Captain in the French army and has been a resident of Paris ever since.”
“Where’s the Captain?” I inquired suspiciously.
“Dead,” he continued. “Killed in action two years ago. No question about the Captain, you understand. In fact, the woman may be all right, too—but I don’t think so. She’s too gay, too hospitable and generous for the benefit of officers who may possess valuable military or naval information!... However, our theory is that this woman, whose maiden name was Smith (which might have come from Schmidt) has been an operative of the German intelligence service for a long period of years—I mean, that she may have married Captain Gedouin for the very definite purpose of establishing herself safely here in the event of war, and of making the necessary connections for the obtaining of desired information about troop movements and concentrations and large scale operations plans.... You see, Canwick, her position is perfect for the purpose. Through Captain Gedouin she has friends scattered all through the backbone of the French Army and being an American it is reasonable for her to enjoy the company of American officers in and about Paris. She can pick up information without the least trouble or effort, and we are powerless to stop her unless we can find out how she disposes of this information. We’ve made inquiries among officers who have been friendly with her, but you can’t find any man who will admit discussing important military matters in the presence of unmilitary people. No man would admit that he had just happened to mention this fact or that fact, by way of conversation, and entirely without suspicion.... We can’t isolate her and forbid her friends to see her. What we must do is connect her, if there is a connection, with some avenue which we know leads to German information.”
“I understand that,” I remarked, when he stopped for breath.
“Well, I’m taking you completely into my confidence,” he went on, “because I’m sure you will keep the information strictly to yourself. You must act the part of an unsuspecting, more or less unsophisticated and uninformed enlisted man. You needn’t drop any hints about General Backett—it will be enough that she knows of the connection. In fact, the less you say the better, because your reticence may lead her to believe that you are worth cultivating. You understand, I’m sure.”
We rode some distance in silence, but my mind was laboring hard and I finally managed to ask the question that had been bothering me all the time. “Just what am I supposed to do—how far should I go with this woman?”
He laughed. “Go the limit, if the opportunity presents itself.... When you see her, you’ll agree that no good soldier would be reluctant.... She’s a beauty, and if she decides to cultivate your friendship, you can depend upon having a beautiful time.... But don’t get it into your head that you have made a conquest, because ten chances to one she’ll just be playing you for some ulterior purpose. Just keep your head and let your ears pick up as much as they can.... If things go as I hope they will, she’ll try to make you feel perfectly at home in her apartment ... probably let you sleep there now and then ... she seems to think it’s an honor to get fellows drunk and have them put to bed in her home: which is, of course, suspicious, because when a man’s drunk he’s liable to say anything and after he’s asleep he can’t know who goes through his clothes or reads his pocket notebooks.... Oh, it’s all jolly and cheery and appears natural enough, but it’s up to you to see if it is so natural as it seems.... It’s a wonderful opportunity: she can’t have any knowledge of you, since you’ve never been connected with the Intelligence, and you’re just young enough and clean looking enough to appeal to her—at least, that’s the way I dope it out. We’ll see how close I come to the truth.... And here we are.”
The house was a dark stone edifice, in appearance somewhat like an American apartment house except that this looked too old to be like any American dwelling house. I guessed at once that it had been a studio building before the war: this side of the Seine is full of old houses like that, used by art students because of the low rents and other advantages. American visitors in Paris used to use such places, too, because of their inexpensiveness and privacy.