Like most of his set, the Major
was a heavy drinker. When his face would become very hushed and his
tongue very glib, I would try to draw things out of him, but I never
could get anything worth while. The slightest suspicious question
made him close up as tight as an oyster.
I had seen him often in the company of a French lady, a Mlle. Rene
Valon. It was obvious that she and the Major were on pretty good
terms. Little incidents, things that happened in a room full of
people, led me to guess that she was extremely fond of him. I made it
my business to cultivate her acquaintance, for experience had often
shown me that where gold and myself failed, a pair of flashing eyes
and other felicities will often succeed. Like all the other women of
that set in Belgrade, Mlle. Valon was woefully extravagant. She
gambled heavily and one night I assisted her with a loan of 500
francs. I came to know her fairly well.
I had no previous indication of her being in any way connected with
any foreign service. Indeed everything pointed to the contrary. But
when on these missions, one is always on the _qui vive_. Mlle.
Valon's French was perfect. She looked French, her mannerisms were
French. Still I wasn't satisfied. In a case like this, it is wise to
be suspicious of every one. I began to make the most delicate
inquiries. In conversation I tried to draw out little things.
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