“When Theo came over to look after the American crooks in London I came with him,” she said, “that is how I got to know those boys at Scotland Yard, and I sort of drifted into the work and took to it like a duck to water.” My hand was trembling, I could not help it. Righteous indignation shook me from head to foot. I could have boxed her ears, but for my German chivalry and the presence of her husband, who might have been distressed at such a display of emotion, though I am sure he would have agreed with me had he only known the amount of money I had spent on that frail creature in flowers and theatre tickets and candy, to say nothing of postage stamps. “They would amuse you, Heine,” she went on, “especially the queer things they say about you. There was a fellow the other day got a letter, phwat was the boy’s name, Theo?” “Prinz,” said her husband, who hitherto had not spoken a word. “Sure that was his name,” said the girl, “’twas from his old dub of a father and written in a very simple cipher.” “A child could have read it,” agreed her husband, “and it was all about you,” he nodded to me. “It said go and see Heine,” said the girl. “Tell him your father’s a prince, and if you haven’t got the pluck to do that, say you are the son of Colonial Officer Prinz, and he will do anything for you. There was a long bit about the lie he had to tell you. About submarines going up to Scotland to fetch him. When we told the commandant he let the boy go, he was safe. He was arrested yesterday and his father has been interned.” “His father interned?” I gasped; “who was his father?” Kathleen looked at her husband and Hagan spoke. “He was the head-waiter at the hotel where the boy was staying,” he said, “’twas his way of getting the lad a vacation.” CHAPTER VIII. THE JERMYN CREDIT BANK Theories and lofty idealism have ever been qualities identified with Germanism. We Germans despise duplicity and double dealing. In our bluff, hearty way, we are impatient with the jiggling nonsense of diplomacy and the shining sword of Michael cuts through the cringing wall of our enemies, opening the way to the rich streams of kultur which are dammed in ever-increasing volume by the banks which the envy, barbarism, and frivolity of our enemies erect. There is a saying in my country: “Trust an Englishman, admire a Frenchman, learn from a Russian, but never argue with an American.” I think it is the deceit of the English race, the mean treachery amounting to sneakiness which so appals we Germans.