German espionage was comporting itself like the personages in a political novel, and people consequently could not seem to believe in it,—although it was taking place right under their eyes,—just because its methods appeared too exaggerated and antiquated.
"Therefore," she continued, "every time that France uncovers a part of our maneuvers, the opinion of the world which believes only in ingenious and difficult things ridicules it, considering it attacked with a delirium of persecution."
Women for some time past had been deeply involved in the service of espionage. There were many as wise as the doctor, as elegant as Freya, and many venerable ones with famous names, winning the confidence that illustrious dowagers inspire. They were very numerous, but they did not know each other. Sometimes they met out in the world and were suspicious of each other, but each continued on her special mission, pushed in different directions by an omnipotent and hidden force.
She showed him some portraits that were taken a few years before. Ulysses was slow to recognize her as a slim Japanese young girl, clad in a dark kimono.
"It is I when I was over there. It was to our interest to know the real force of that nation of little men with rat-like eyes."
In another portrait she appeared in short skirt, riding boots, a man's shirt, and a felt cowboy hat.
"That was from the Transvaal."
She had gone to South Africa in company with other German women of the "service" in order to sound the state of mind of the Boers under English domination.
"I've been everywhere," she affirmed proudly.
"In Paris, too?" questioned the sailor.