More spies. This one is the Real Deal. Horst von der Goltz (real name: Franz Wachendorf, he changed it to impress the Mexicans) was a spy for the Kaiser. His adventures actually sound like the movies. In fact, he was in a movie about his own life. If this sounds like fun reading, read My Adventures as a Secret Agent online. In this excerpt, Wachendorf, a cadet, impersonates a prince.

"Do you recognize this face?" he inquired, offering me the picture.

I started. It might have been my own likeness. But no! That uniform was never mine. n in a moment I realized the truth and with the realization the whole mystery of the last few weeks began to be clear to me. The photograph was a portrait of the young Prince Z; my double, whom I had served at the banquet¹.

"It is a very remarkable likeness," said the round-faced man. "And it will be of good service to the Fatherland."

He eyed me for a moment impressively before continuing.

"You are to go to Russia," he told me.

"Prince Z has been invited to visit his family in St. Petersburg, and he has accepted the invitation. But unfortunately Prince Z has discovered that he cannot go. You will, therefore become the Prince – for the time being. You will visit your family, note everything that is said to you and report to your tutor, Herr X, who will accompany you and give you further instructions.

"This is an important mission," he added solemnly, "but I have no doubt that you will comport yourself satisfactorily. You have been taught everything that is necessary; and you have already shown yourself a young man of spirit and some discretion. We rely upon both of these qualities." He bowed in dismissal of us, but as we turned to go he spoke again.

"Remember," he was saying. "From this day you are no longer a cadet. You are a prince. Act accordingly²."

Now, my tutor had, long before this, seen to it that I should be on friendly terms with various members of the baron's household; and he had been especially insistent that I pay a good deal of attention to the young daughter of the house, whom I shall call Nevshka. I had wondered at the time why he should do this³; but I obeyed his instructions with alacrity⁴. Nevshka was charming.

Now I saw the purpose of this carefully fostered friendship.

"The baron will spend this evening at the club," I was informed. "He will return, according to his habit, promptly at twelve. You will visit his house this evening, paying a call upon Nevshka. You will contrive to set back the clock so that his home coming will be in the nature of a surprise to her. The hour will be so late that she, knowing her father's strictness, will contrive to get you out of the house without his seeing you. That is your opportunity! You must slip from the salon into the rear hall – but do not leave the house. And if, young man, with such an opportunity, you cannot discover where these papers are hidden and secure them, you are unworthy of the trust that your government has placed in you⁵."

I nodded my comprehension. In other words I was to take advantage of Nevshka's friendship in order to steal from her father – I was to perform an act from which no gentleman could help shrinking. And I was going to do it with no more qualms of conscience than, in time of war, I should have felt about stealing from an enemy-general the plan of an attack.

Dmitri Gheorgheni

16.05.16 Front Page

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