I myself wondered what information the British Government had secured, and how they had secured it. For months the streets had been lit as gaily as in pre-war days. The theatre signs glowed and flashed, the West End streets were bathed in radiance, and then, almost as by a touch of the magician’s wand, London “went dark.” Street lamps were shaded, the light signs outside the theatres were extinguished, and it was almost impossible to pick your way through the streets. I suppose my excellent friend, the High-Born Baron von Hertz-Missenger, would have said, “English Secret Service.” He reminds me of a character in Charles Dickens, the great English poet, who invariably thought that his head was the head of King Charles II! The explanation I offered was, that some of our too impetuous airmen must have betrayed the fact by shouting with haughty insolence to the English airmen they met in the air. As this has never been denied, it is probably true. At any rate I set myself to work upon a map. It was a long business, and very unsatisfactory, because the whole of London was dark, and no place was more light than another. This I reported, forwarding the maps by special courier. And then I received a request from our Headquarters that I should arrange light-signals which should be seen by Zeppelins. The idea was to post three lights so that they formed a triangle, one near Albany Park, one near Maidstone Road, and a third in the east, near Shepherd’s Junction. The triangle thus made would contain all the valuable city area which it was our Zeppelins’ intention to utterly destroy. Of the first raid in September, it is not necessary for me to tell. Of how the cowardly Englishmen trembled beneath the midnight hail of bombs, you have read. I myself did not witness the raid, because, on receiving information in the afternoon, Zeppelins were due, I had left London for Cornwall. Since it was impossible for the brave fellows who piloted our good Zeppelins to distinguish between a patriot and a hateful enemy, I thought that in the interest of the Fatherland, it was necessary that I should be as far away as possible when the dread visitation came. I returned to London the next morning and arrived at eleven o’clock. O what consternation there was. O what vile language these unkultured Londoners used, what epithets, what adjectives, the A’s, and B’s, and C’s, and D’s, they called us--but of that anon! I was in some anxiety before my journey’s end was reached as to whether I should have to walk a part of the journey, and I was greatly relieved on questioning the conductor to learn that Paddington Station had escaped the holocaust. When I arrived at Paddington everything was going on as usual. To my amazement buses were running and cabs were plying for hire. “Where was the raid?” I asked. “In the East End and the City,” was the reply. So, I thought, my triangle had proved efficacious, and calling a cab, I said: