In all my life before, I had
never been happy, I had never ceased to struggle for my bare
existence, I had never had pretty clothes to wear, and motor-cars
and servants of my own."
She paused and glanced around her. The room was almost dark; the
fog outside hung like a veil before the window.
"Light the lamp!" she begged, "I do not like the dark!"
Desmond struck a match and kindled an oil lamp, which stood on
the sideboard.
"Ah! my friend," the girl resumed. "I took my fill of life with
both hands. The year was 1913. Now I know that I was one of the
German agents for the penetration of Belgium in preparation of
what was coming. My mission was to make friends among the
Belgians and the French and the cosmopolitan society of Brussels
generally, and invite them to my house where your people were
waiting to deal with them.
"My pretty villa became the rendezvous for half the rascals of
Europe, men and women, who used to meet there with all kinds of
mysterious Germans. Sometimes there was a scandal. Once a Belgian
Colonel was found shot in the billiard-room; they said it was
suicide and the thing was hushed up, but dame! now that I know
what I know...
"Enfin! I shut my eyes to it all... it was none of my business...
and I revelled in my robes, my dancing, my new life of luxury!
"And then the war came.
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