I. My Revelations as a Spy

In many people the very name "Spy" excites a shudder of
apprehension; we Spies, in fact, get quite used to being
shuddered at. None of us Spies mind it at all. Whenever
I enter a hotel and register myself as a Spy I am quite
accustomed to see a thrill of fear run round the clerks,
or clerk, behind the desk.

Us Spies or We Spies--for we call ourselves both--are
thus a race apart. None know us. All fear us. Where do
we live? Nowhere. Where are we? Everywhere. Frequently
we don't know ourselves where we are. The secret orders
that we receive come from so high up that it is often
forbidden to us even to ask where we are. A friend of
mine, or at least a Fellow Spy--us Spies have no friends
--one of the most brilliant men in the Hungarian Secret
Service, once spent a month in New York under the impression
that he was in Winnipeg. If this happened to the most
brilliant, think of the others.

All, I say, fear us. Because they know and have reason
to know our power. Hence, in spite of the prejudice
against us, we are able to move everywhere, to lodge in
the best hotels, and enter any society that we wish to
penetrate.