That Schnitzel had important papers tied to his neck I no more believe
than that he wore a shirt of chain armor, but to please him I pretended
to be greatly concerned.

"Now that we're getting into New York," I said, "you must be very
careful. A man who carries such important documents on his person might
be murdered for them. I think you ought to disguise yourself."

A picture of my bag being carried ashore by Schnitzel in the uniform of
a ship's steward rather pleased me.

"Go on, you're kidding!" said Schnitzel. He was drawn between believing
I was deeply impressed and with fear that I was mocking him.

"On the contrary," I protested, "I don't feel quite safe myself. Seeing
me with you they may think I have papers around _my_ neck."

"They wouldn't look at you," Schnitzel reassured me. "They know you're
just an amateur. But, as you say, with me, it's different. I _got_ to be
careful. Now, you mightn't believe it, but I never go near my uncle nor
none of my friends that live where I used to hang out. If I did, the
other spies would get on my track. I suppose," he went on grandly, "I
never go out in New York but that at least two spies are trailing me.
But I know how to throw them off. I live 'way down town in a little
hotel you never heard of. You never catch me dining at Sherry's nor the
Waldorf. And you never met me out socially, did you, now?"

I confessed I had not.

"And then, I always live under an assumed name."