I duly forwarded this and other items to Lord Bedale, but I could not perceive that any notice was taken of them by the Foreign Office. Probably the permanent staff resented the idea that they were being checked and inspected, and determined to show that they were not going to let even their monarch interfere with them. But all this was merely preliminary. I was on the eve of a discovery of so much moment that I have often asked myself since whether, but for me, the British Empire would be in existence to-day. Newspaper readers may recollect that not very long ago a sharp passage of words took place between a German Minister and an English statesman whom I will not indicate more closely in the present excited state of party politics. Although in appearance but a quarrel of Ministers, it was perfectly well understood on the Continent that the Count von Bülow was only the mouthpiece of his Imperial master on this occasion. Europe gasped at the spectacle of this political thunderstorm, in which the lurking hatred of Germany towards England was for the first time brought to the surface, and exposed. I knew the character of both of these formidable peoples too well to believe that the incident would have no after effects. As by the glare of a lightning-flash, there stood revealed before me the figures of the two great protagonists, contending together for the mastery in a war raging over three continents. Very soon after Lord Bedale, or whoever stood behind him, had confided the safety of Great Britain to my care, I repaired in disguise to Berlin. My instinct taught me that this capital was the true storm-centre, and that from here, rather than St. Petersburg, would be directed the designs of any really dangerous movement against the country of Edward VII. My first visit after my arrival was paid to the Director of the Imperial Secret Service, my old friend Finkelstein. I felt it would be impossible for me to remain long in the German capital without my presence becoming known to this astute chief of police, and I deemed it the most prudent course to throw him off his guard at the outset. I caused myself to be announced as Father d’Aurignac, of the Order of the Assumptionists. My assumed character completely imposed on Finkelstein, and I opened the conversation by saying-- ‘I have come here in consequence of the persecution of the Order now being carried on by the French Republic. We are obliged to seek other homes, it being impossible for us to remain in France. A large number of houses have been transferred to England, but my brethren and I detest that country so much that we wish to settle in Germany instead. I have been deputed to ascertain what treatment we are likely to receive at the hands of the authorities.’ ‘That is not in my department,’ Finkelstein answered. ‘You should apply to the Minister of the Interior.’