The woman spy of fiction, though not absolutely a myth, is very rare indeed. The siren of beauty and wit, mysterious as she is fascinating, makes a very pretty picture for a sensational melodrama; but it must be fairly obvious, on reflection, that she would defeat her own ends by the very mystery that is popularly supposed to surround her. Further, diplomats entrusted with confidential and delicate tasks are hard-headed men of the world, capable of seeing through the wiles of such dames of mystery as the fiction-writer would have us believe in, existing in the highest society and able to subjugate a man by a glance. A story has recently been told to the effect that one of these charming adventuresses was able to spoil the work of no less a person than a Russian Ambassador, the said Ambassador being a man of mature years and such judgment as one would expect in the holder of the power that he represented. The spy alleged that the lady in question was able by her charms to throw the Ambassador entirely off his guard, so that his mission was spoiled and he incurred imperial displeasure and lost his post. It is a pretty story, and would pass well as an effort of imagination; the only trouble is that the alleged confessions of the spy include this pretty story as truth, which it most distinctly is not. The affairs of nations are not conducted in such a manner as this, for there is sufficient wisdom in the various Courts of Europe to recognise the existence of all dangers, and to impose on their representatives such safeguards as shall neutralise the attempts that may be made at spoiling treaties and sowing discord by means of pretty women and susceptible men. The reason for the telling of such stories lies in their being extremely plausible, extremely attractive, and extremely saleable. Real diplomatic spying is a much more sordid and much meaner business than the fiction-writer places before his or her readers. It consists in listening at doors, reading and replacing letters, and tricks of the kind which would be perfectly obvious if the person spying were not so thoroughly trustworthy--to outside appearance. The diplomatic spy may be a servant, a military attache, a courier in the ostensible service of a Government--he may be anything, but always he is a supremely trustworthy person, one who has no need to conceal the fact that he is highly intelligent and well fitted for his post, whatever that may be. His reputation among the people with whom he is brought in contact may be and usually is a matter of years' standing, for only the absolute assurance of his honesty enables him to carry on his work.