An old retired captain of the Ship Inspection Service happened to be stopping in the same hotel. His love for his old profession caused him to take a most embarrassing interest in my work. One day, he met a bona-fide ship inspector and asked him whether he knew me.
"Von Eckmann? Let's see, I know everybody in the service. There is no Von Eckmann on the roster."
"Then," blurted out the old captain, "he must be a spy. I always said he had a typically English face. I'll watch him."
Through mistake, two letters came for me without the usual cover address. Both of them gave my full name and rank. I argued with the head waiter, trying to get him to give me the letters for delivery to "my friend, Count Luckner." The old captain happened to be snooping near by, although I didn't know it. By now, anything I did was suspicious. He already had me hung and quartered as his country's arch enemy.
"What did that fellow want?" he inquired of the head waiter.
"He asked me to give him the letters for Lieutenant Commander Count von Luckner."
"Ha!"
I suspected nothing. That evening I took the train for Bremen. A detective entered my compartment and demanded my papers. I gave them to him.
"Count von Luckner," he exclaimed, astonished and embarrassed, "I must have made a mistake. I am looking for a spy from Geestemunde."
I grew worried. Could it be that enemy secret agents were watching the work on my auxiliary cruiser?