THE AFFAIR OF THE HUNCHBACKED COUNTESS I suppose that none of your British friends have ever heard the name of Thyra Adelheid von Kienitz. She was a funny little deformed person, aged, perhaps, seventy, widow of the great General von Kienitz, who had served in the Franco-German campaign, and who, before his death, had been acknowledged to be as great a strategist as your own Lord Roberts, whom every good German--I did not write Prussian--salutes in reverence. Countess von Kienitz was the daughter of a certain Countess von Borcke, and after living for many years in retirement in her picturesque old schloss perched on a rock not far from the famous wine district of Berncastel, on the winding Mosel river, became suddenly seized with an idea to re-enter Berlin society. With this view she rented a fine house not far from the Liechtenstein Bridge, and early in 1911 commenced a series of wildly-extravagant entertainments--luncheons, dinners, and supper concerts, at which were artistes to whom three-thousand-mark fees were often paid--with a view, as it seemed to me, to attract the more modern and go-ahead section of Berlin society. At first the smarter set looked askance at the ugly, deformed, painted-up old woman with the squeaky voice, and they strenuously declined invitations to her splendid, newly-furnished mansion in the Stulerstrasse. Indeed, the name of the Countess von Kienitz became synonymous for all that was grotesque, and her painted, doll-like countenance and yellow wig were the laughing-stock of both the upper and middle classes. Nevertheless she strenuously endeavoured to surround herself with young society of both sexes, and many smart dances were given at the Stulerstrasse during the season--dances at which the swaggering Prussian officer was seen at his gorgeous best. One afternoon, seated by the Crown-Prince as he drove recklessly his great Mercédès car along the Bismarckallee in the direction of Potsdam, we passed an overdressed old woman, very artificial, with yellow hair, and short of stature. "Look, Heltzendorff! Is she not like that old crow, Von Kienitz?" "Yes, her figure is very similar," I admitted. "Ah! The old woman was introduced to me the other night at Bismarck-Bohlen's house. _Himmel!_ What a freak! Have you seen her wig?" I replied that I had visited once or twice at the Stulerstrasse, and that the company I had met there were certainly amusing. I mentioned some of their names, among them that of young Von Ratibor, Major Gersdorff, of the Death's Head Hussars, Von Heynitz, of the Königsjäger, a well-known man about town, his friend Winterfeld, together with a number of ladies of the very ultra go-ahead set. At this His Highness seemed highly interested. "She certainly seems a very curious old person," he laughed. "Fancies that she's but twenty-five, and actually had the audacity to dance at Bismarck-Bohlen's. Somebody was cruel enough to ask her to sing a French _chansonnette_!" "Did she?" I inquired.