One day, in September, 1910, I received through a mutual friend, a lady, an invitation to dine at the house of a prominent official at the War Office, who, in his note to me, declared that he had greatly admired my patriotism, and asked me to dine _en famille_ one Sunday evening. I accepted the invitation, and went. The official's name, I may here say, figures often in your daily newspapers to-day. To my great surprise, I found among the guests the German Ambassador, the Chancellor of the Embassy, the Military and Naval Attachés with their ladies, and several popular actors and actresses. In a corner of the drawing-room after dinner, I found myself chatting with a German Attaché, who turned the conversation upon my anti-German writings. By his invitation, I met him at his club next day. He entertained me to an expensive luncheon, and then suddenly laughed at me for what he termed my misguided propaganda. "There will be no war between your country and mine," he assured me. "You are so very foolish, my dear Mr. Le Queux. You will ruin your reputation by these fixed ideas of yours. Why not change them? We desire no quarrel with Great Britain, but we, of course, realise that you are doing what you consider to be your duty." "It _is_ my duty," I responded. My diplomatic friend sucked at his cigar, and laughed. "As a literary man you, of course, write to interest the public. But you would interest your public just as _easily_ by writing in _favour_ of Germany--and, I tell you that we should quickly recognise the favour you do us--_and recompense you for it_." I rose from my chair. I confess that I grew angry, and I told him what was in my mind. I gave him a message to his own Secret Service, in Berlin, which was very terse and to the point, and then I left the room. But that was not all. I instituted inquiries regarding the official at the War Office who had been the means of introducing us, and within a fortnight that official--whose dealings with the enemy were proved to be suspicious--was relieved of his post. I give this as one single instance of the cunning manner in which the German Secret Service have endeavoured to nobble and bribe me, so as to close my mouth and thus combat my activity. Another instance was when the Norddeutscher Lloyd Line, of Bremen, kindly invited me to take a voyage round the world, free of expense, so that I might visit the various German colonies and write some descriptions of them. And, on a third occasion, German diplomats were amazingly kind to me, both in Constantinople and in Belgrade, and again broadly hinted at their readiness to win me over to their side. How pitiable, how absolutely criminal our apathy has been!