The most extraordinary precautions were taken to ensure its being shrouded in impenetrable obscurity at night—a ray of light shewing through a window meant instant arrest for the occupant of the room. Even smoking out of doors at night was strictly forbidden. The doorways of restaurants, cafés, and shops were heavily draped with double curtains, and after eight o’clock the electric light was turned off and only candles allowed. It would be difficult to describe the weird effect of Venice in total darkness on a moonless night. It is said that more people have lost their lives by falling into the canals than through aeroplane bombs, and I can quite believe it, for it was positively dangerous to go a yard unless one was absolutely certain of one’s whereabouts. Added to this was the risk of being mistaken for a spy. One had to get a _permis de séjour_ from the Police, but even with this in your pocket one was never really safe, for they had “spy fever” very badly indeed when I was there, and even old and well-known inhabitants were not immune from suspicion at times. I heard of several cases of hair-breadth escapes from the clutches of the angry crowd which would gather on the slightest suggestion. To be heard speaking with a foreign accent was often sufficient to attract unpleasant attention, so you were inclined to be chary of venturing far from the Place St. Marc at any time, however much your papers might be _en règle_. Apart from the defensive work that was being undertaken to protect Venice from Austrian air attacks, there was nothing of interest in the way of military or naval activity to be seen. Destroyers and torpedo boats occasionally came into the lagoon, but seldom remained long. The position of Venice makes it a sort of cul de sac, and of no importance whatever from the point of view of land and sea operations, and it is quite at the mercy of Austrian aeroplanes or seaplanes operating from Pola or Trieste. The sole object the Austrians can have in attacking it therefore is to cause wanton damage to its historic buildings and art treasures, for it is not a _place forte_ in any sense of the word; and if there is one thing more than another calculated to stiffen the backs of the Italians against their enemy and to make them the more determined to do all in their power to crush Austria for ever, it is this cold-blooded onslaught on their national artistic heirlooms, for which there is no military justification whatever. At that time the nearest point of the Front was some 40 miles from Venice, in Friuli, and after a few days marking time, I decided that this was where I must make for if I wanted to see anything of what was going on in this early stage of the war. The courteous and genial British Vice-Consul, Mr. Beak, who had just taken over the post, proved a veritable good Samaritan, and did his best to help me.